Chapter 142
But the moment Mr. Smith pictured Effie’s porcelain skin, her graceful figure, and above all, the faint, intoxicating scent that seemed to linger around her, he felt his heart stir with longing.
Desire crawled beneath his skin, itching like a swarm of ants, impossible to ignore.
He glanced over at Mrs. Smith, sitting quietly beside him. She was only in her thirties, but her complexion looked dull and tired, makeup barely masking the exhaustion etched into her features. Her clothes were plain, her style uninspired— nothing about her caught his interest anymore.
The more he looked, the more resentful he became. It was maddening, the way life turned out when you compared yourself to others.
What on earth had he been thinking, marrying such a dreary woman?
Mrs. Smith had grown accustomed to his constant criticism and belittling. Her expression remained unchanged, as if she hadn’t heard a word.
If he refused to listen to reason, then he could face the consequences. People who overstepped their bounds deserved whatever punishment came to them.
A flash of malice flickered beneath Mrs. Smith’s lowered lashes.
…
Restless and flushed, Mr. Smith suddenly remembered an old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years.
He picked up his phone and dialed her number.
Isabel was in the middle of dance rehearsal when the call came through, and the sight of Mr. Smith’s name on her screen made her heart skip in alarm.
Damn it, why would he call me now?
Mr. Smith was a reminder of her past she’d rather forget-a chapter she had no desire to revisit.
Back when she was just breaking into the industry, Isabel had done what she had to in order to get noticed. Mr. Smith had taken a liking to her, and thanks to his influence, her career took off quickly. But that favor came at a price, leaving plenty of leverage in his hands.
Now that Isabel had become a renowned dancer and A-list celebrity, she wanted nothing more than to sever all ties with him.
On the other end of the line, Mr. Smith’s voice oozed with sleazy charm. “Isabel, long time no see. What have you been up to lately? I’m in town on business-why don’t we get together?”
Suppressing her distaste, Isabel forced a polite tone. “Mr. Smith, what a coincidence. You’re here for business? Where are you staying?”
Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, she kept her voice light.
He chuckled, the sound greasy and self-satisfied. “At the resort. I’m here meeting with Mr. Etheridge. We’ve almost wrapped things up, and you just popped into my mind. What’s the matter? Now that you’re a big star, are you too good for me?”
Isabel’s heart skipped again. Mr. Etheridge?
Could he mean Lyman?
She knew Mr. Smith dealt with some major players. If it was Lyman he was meeting, and if women came up in their talks, would Mr. Smith mention her?
Isabel immediately changed her approach, her voice softening. “Mr. Smith, don’t be silly. I’d never look down on you. I do have an engagement tonight, by the way did you say you’re meeting Mr. Etheridge? Is that Lyman?”
“That’s right, it’s him. He brought his wife along, too. Honestly, she’s quite the looker,” Mr. Smith said, still sounding distracted by the memory.
Isabel caught the implication at once. Inspiration struck. “Wait, Mr. Etheridge got married? I hadn’t heard are you sure she’s not just someone he hired to play the part?”
“What? He’s not married?” Mr. Smith’s pulse quickened.
Could it really be that the woman was just for show? But the way the two interacted didn’t seem fake at all.
“Exactly. Have you heard about any wedding? If he really got married, with his family background, there would’ve been a huge celebration. No way would he keep it a secret,” Isabel replied smoothly.
“I see,” Mr. Smith murmured, lost in thought.
“Mr. Smith, I really do have a packed schedule today, but once I’m free, I’ll come find you. I owe so much of my success to you I’ll never forget that,” Isabel purred sweetly.
There was no way she’d actually show up, not with Lyman in the same place. But she’d heard the undertones in Mr. Smith’s voice-he seemed rather taken with that Effie woman.
All the better. Let’s see if Mr. Smith’s wandering eye is matched by his nerve.