C12, PT. 1

She swiped at her eyes as Johan opened her door. She took his hand to step out of the car and flinched when the frigid air assaulted her bare legs. Instinctively, she leaned into him for protection and warmth before remembering where she was. She was in the freaking Financial District where her family had dominated for three generations, and she just remarried the latest billionaire to take up residence. That’s all she needed, to start rumors that she was having an affair with her bodyguard. Roth would love that one.

She straightened away from Johan and turned to look at her father’s building across the street from where Roth had decided to set up shop. She shaded her eyes to look up at the midsection of the building where Hennessy Headquarters was. She was sure Ariana was hard at work.

It had been a week since their disastrous Thanksgiving dinner. Rami, Lyle, and Colette reached out to tell her they didn’t share Ariana’s sentiments, but the silence from her sister’s corner was deafening. Even though she told herself it didn’t matter, it still niggled at the back of her mind. Instead of rehearsing what she wanted to say to her sister, she lost herself in the fantastical waters of fiction. She gorged on everything she could get her hands on—fantasy, mystery, thrillers, non-fiction, romance. If the book wasn’t captivating enough to edge out her inner turmoil, she moved on.

“Don’t forget the cookies!” Sarai called as she rounded the car.

“Oh.” She hastily reopened the door to nab the package from the back seat, along with her phone, which she’d also forgotten. By the time she slipped her purse on her shoulder, Mo and Johan were standing on the sidewalk, while a member from her second team slipped into the driver’s seat of the Bentley. She opened her mouth to ask about the switch before realizing the second team would draw too much attention in their casual streetwear. Mo and Johan never missed a beat.

At this hour, the sidewalk was jam-packed with men in suits. For some reason, their little group was drawing quite a bit of attention. She wasn’t sure if it was the Bentley, the fact that Mo and Johan were clearly her security, or if they recognized her that made several people put their heads together. Sarai was impervious to the scrutiny and took a call as she glided forward to lead the way into the building.

“Yes, we’ll have to move that to the sixteenth. Can you fit us in for three fifteen? That would be ideal. Hmm. He has a two o’clock that should finish at two forty-five. We may be cutting it too close. You can move Mr. Thompson’s appointment to accommodate us? I appreciate that. Three fifteen on the sixteenth is the earliest Mr. Roth can meet with him, or else we have to move him to after the New Year. Yes, I understand. I’m putting that in his calendar as we speak. Thanks, Lora. I’ll be in touch.” Sarai pressed the button for the elevator and took another call before the doors opened.

When they boarded the elevator, Mo and Johan gestured her into the corner. She obliged, as almost one dozen men tried to take the same ride. As they neared the forty-fifth floor, Sarai finished her call. One of the men leaned over to murmur something to her. Sarai nodded and as the door opened said, “Email me. We’ll work it out.”

Mo ushered the men aside so she could pass. As the door closed behind them, she heard one of them say, “Isn’t she a Hennessy?”

“The youngest,” another answered.

“She’s with him again?”

“Announcement was in the papers a couple of weeks ago.”

“Funny how he shows up after the old man dies…”

The doors closed, stopping her from hearing the rest of the conversation. She felt Mo and Johan’s sidelong glances, but she kept her expression bland as she strode into a familiar reception area. Sarai spoke to two women behind a white desk. The wall behind the receptionists was staged with beautiful flower arrangements like a hotel lobby.

Sarai turned to her with a big smile. “This is Jasmine, Mr. Roth’s wife.”

The receptionists gave her polite smiles, but as their eyes drifted over her, she was very aware of the fact that she didn’t have on a lick of makeup. Her eyes were probably puffy from reading Ballad of Deception and her recent freakout in the car. Oh, God.

“She came by to pay him a visit,” Sarai continued. “Is his eleven o’clock still running over?”

“Yes, we took in refreshments a half hour ago.”

Sarai nodded and turned to Jasmine, who was staring through the glass walls of a nearby conference room where a meeting was taking place. “Have you been here before?”

“Yes, but it was late at night and I went straight to his office.”

You proved your worth in Colorado. Our time at the cabin reminded me what it’s like to have a whore who likes what you’re giving her. She stuffed her balled up fists into her pockets as she willed away the flash of anger. That was in the past. But she couldn’t resist taking in the waiting area, where a very pregnant Colette had waited all day for Roth to give her five minutes of his time.

“Let me show you around.” Sarai linked arms with Jasmine and either didn’t register or care about her stiff body language. “There are forty-two employees here.”

Jasmine’s mouth sagged open. “He hired that many people since he arrived in New York?”

“No, most were already in his employ, but scattered in different regions. Now that he’s made New York his headquarters, everyone’s been relocating. It’s been wonderful being able to walk down the hall to their office instead of worrying about time differences or organizing travel. Thank you for that.”

She had nothing to do with Roth making New York his headquarters. He always intended to return to America and relocated before they came face to face in Colorado. But trying to convince Sarai otherwise was a waste of time. Roth’s PA would believe what she wanted to.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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