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A gentle blush spreads across her cheeks as she begins pulling me down the road that I know leads to the home she shares with Mortimer. I expected their place to be some grand mansion in the middle of nowhere, and I suspect they probably do own a country estate like that, but their main residence is in the heart of London—which means, given its size, it’s probably worth two country mansions.
We walk for around fifteen minutes, and I use the time to ask her as much as I can about her life, without it seeming like I’m prying. It’s hard to find a balance between looking like an attentive date, and making it obvious that I’m digging for information because I have an ulterior motive. I want to appear to be the perfect date, making it all about her, and just answering minimal questions about myself when asked.
It seems to be going well, and the conversation flows easily as I get to know a little more about Melanie Whitlock. I know everything there is to know about her on paper, but finding out all the little details that might one day come in handy is an important step in my undercover process. Given that my main task is to get her to fall in love with me and trust me, to do that, she has to believe I’m boyfriend material.
We’re in the middle of talking about her debutante work, and I don’t miss the way she glosses over my question regarding whether her daughter was a debutante. She talks about Mia as if she’s still a big part of her life, and portrays their relationship as nothing but positive. I’m just not sure yet whether she genuinely believes the bullshit she’s spouting, or if she remains hopeful that there’s a relationship to salvage with Mia when the time is right.
Thankfully, the conversation draws to a close as we approach the large iron gates that I know lead to their home. As Mel stops, I turn to her with a bright smile on my face, but as I’m about tospeak, she cuts me off. “This is me. Thank you for walking me home. Would you like to come in for a drink?”
I don’t miss the way her voice shakes slightly as she asks me to come inside, her nerves clearly getting the better of her. Even though we’ve been dating for a couple of weeks now, they’ve all been platonic, ‘getting to know you’ dates. The most we’ve done is hold hands, but as she leans a little closer, I can tell she’s hoping for more.
My stomach rolls and the fancy food we just ate threatens to make a reappearance. This is one part of my job that I’ve never gotten used to, and I never will.
One last job and you won’t ever have to do this again,I remind myself. Thinking back to the promise my dad made me when I agreed to do this final assignment. After this, I’m free to live a normal life—if I can work out what the hell normal is.
Pushing all revulsion aside, I turn on my charm. Leaning down until my lips are beside her ear, so close she can feel my breath tickling across her skin, I lower my voice seductively. “I would love to come inside for a drink. But I still want to take this slow. You are such a special woman. I don’t want to risk what we could have by chasing something quick and meaningless. You’re worth more than that.”
I love the way she shivers as I speak, and a bright red blush spreads across her cheeks. I’m sure if I lay my hand on her chest, I’ll be able to feel her heart racing. As she looks at me with her big silver eyes, I can tell I’m saying all the right things to win her over.
“I know you’ve always said from the beginning that you’re not looking for something casual, that you want something meaningful with me. But I think now would be a good time to mention that I don’t ever plan on leaving my husband. We have an open marriage, and I can date or sleep with whomever I choose, but I can never leave him. We have a social image touphold, and I can’t walk away from that,” she explains, as she fiddles with her perfect manicure.
I don’t know whether she’s telling me that she can never leave him, or that she won’t. They both have very different meanings, and the answer to that question will determine what happens to Mel when all this comes crashing down around her. And it will come crashing down.
We cannot allow Mortimer to continue plotting behind our backs, arming our enemies, all whilst growing the human trafficking trade in our country. And don’t even get me started on the fact he likes to mess around with underage children. That’s a death sentence on its own… I just really hope Mel isn’t guilty, too. It’s my job to find that out, while I help to bring him down.
I take a deep breath and let out a deliberate sigh, like her information is hard for me to hear. “I know you won’t ever leave your husband, Mel. You’ve been honest about that from the start, and I would never ask you to. But I’d like whatever this is between us to be something special and meaningful. I can keep us a secret, if that’s what it takes.
“I don’t meet women as special as you very often, and I don’t intend on wasting this opportunity. If you’re interested, I want to date you, get to know you, maybe one day fall for you. I don’t want to move too quickly and potentially ruin this by falling into bed with you before we’re ready. Does that make sense?”
I hope I sound sincere, like I’m trying not to sleep with her because it’s in her best interest. I know in the past, she’s had a lot of one-night stands, or flings that she falls into bed with quickly, and that’s all it ever is between them. Just sex. I get the feeling she’s looking for more…like she wants to be seen as more than just a fuck buddy, even if she won’t leave her husband.
I’m trying to sound like the perfect guy, saying exactly what women want to hear. In reality, the thought of having sex withher repulses me. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a bad-looking woman, and I’m sure the sex wouldn’t be terrible. The problem is that there’s only one woman I want to be with, even though that will never happen. So the whole thing leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“That makes sense, and honestly, it’s a little refreshing to meet a man who doesn’t want to get me into bed the first chance he gets,” she says, though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and her cheeks seem even tighter than they do after her Botox. Her words say one thing, but it’s clear by her expression she’s a little insecure about my comment.
I need to fix this, and fast, so I go for a bit of flirting. “Oh, I still want to get you into bed, and I can’t stop the dirty thoughts that enter my head whenever I think of you. But I know you deserve better. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”
Her smile widens, and given the way her silver eyes sparkle as I shoot a cheeky wink her way, I can tell I’ve said the right thing. Over the years I’ve been doing this just, I’ve learned a fair bit about women, and this situation was easy to read. Though Mel’s happy I wanted to treat her right, and not rush into sleeping with her, her insecure side still questioned whether I only said it because I’m not attracted to her.
All women, no matter their age, have some element of insecurity about them. Most are worried that their love interest doesn’t reciprocate the feelings they have. Once you work out what the insecurity is, winning her over is easy.
Mel reaches over and places her hand on my chest, a typical flirty gesture that does fuck all for me, but I smile anyway. “Now we’ve cleared up all that messy stuff, shall we have that drink? I’ll make sure you leave with my virtue intact.” Her high-pitched giggle at the end sounds more forced than natural. I think she still intends to try to seduce me, but I will hold out as long aspossible. I want her to want me…it makes my job a whole lot easier if she’s the one chasing me.
“A drink would be nice,” I reply, as I peel her palm off my chest before lacing our fingers together again, and she gives my hand a squeeze, apparently satisfied with my little gesture.
She leads me over to the right side of the large iron gates, and I try not to roll my eyes at the way the iron bars have been moulded into a giant W that sits in the middle of the gates. Like a large, posh, monogrammed initial—you know you have too much money when you have your initials in your gate.
Mel reaches out with her free hand and lifts up a flap on the side of the gate to reveal an electronic pin machine. She casts a quick glance my way, and I do my best to make it seem like I’m looking over at the house, as opposed to watching attentively to find out what the gate code is.
Once she’s sure I’m not looking, using her perfectly manicured hands, she types in the numbers 2-3-0-5-1-9-7-2. I repeat them over and over in my head until I’m sure I have them memorised. The numbers ring a bell with me, but I can’t remember off the top of my head why.
It’s obviously a date, I’m just not sure what for. Definitely not Melanie’s birthday, but it could be Mortimer’s. Only a narcissist like him would use his own birthday as the security code—I can feel Kel rolling his eyes at how easy that would be to hack.
The large iron gates begin to creek as they electronically open. I don’t miss the way the two security cameras perched on the walls on either side of the iron gates turn slowly until they’re focused on me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s Mel’s security doing it, or if Kel has hacked the feed—though he said he would only do that in an emergency.
Mel, still holding my hand, leads me down a large driveway with beautifully manicured lawns on either side. As we reach the end, the road curves off to the left. In the middle is a large, roundwater feature that is acting almost as a roundabout. Cars can drive around it, stop outside the steps for the main house, before continuing back down the drive, or turning off to the carpark at the rear of the property.
I’ve analysed every inch of this place before getting here, but none of my research prepared me for the grandeur of the building. It’s in the heart of London, with neighbours on either side—albeit a fair distance away—but they’ve still managed to make the estate look like a country retreat.
