His Wife My sins

|Twelve|

The disappointments just keep on coming. How could I stay motivated when this was what I had to look forward to? So close, and yet so damn far. This was what I got. For caring, for trying. Chastity has not only ruined my whole plan, but she also stunted my growth and for what? All because she wanted what she couldn't have. Unbelievable. Last night was a complete shit show, and I had a feeling this was just the beginning.

I woke and with a yawn and a well-deserved stretch, I was up and on my way to the kitchen. There were no bodies in my bed this time, and I doubt that there would be for a while. Not after what happened with Miss Winter. There was still so much I didn't know about her and why she was there. If she came to rob me, why didn't she? Why did she change her mind? Who killed her and what was the motive? Where was that murder weapon? All questions I had no answers to, but they plagued my mind. The harder I tried to put everything together, the more the pieces did not fit. There was still so much to discover.

Placing a pan on my glass cooktop I turned the knob to heat it. I gathered the ingredients from the fridge before making my way back to the counter. Cracking an egg on the rim of the pot, I stirred to scramble it. I made my way to the pantry and pulled out two slices of bread before sticking them in the toaster. I then scurried over to my coffee maker and placed my mug beneath it. With my fresh greens and tomatoes, I assembled my sandwich. I removed my mug from the coffee maker and headed to my bar stool. I sat and with only minutes to spare, I ate.

There was so much that needed to be done at this point. Do I have a clue of how it would all be done? No. I had to get another rainmaker who had enough skill to get me back on top. I needed a new treasurer, and I had to replace the members of the board. All will be tedious and a pain in my ass. Not to mention that this will all have to be done before the next battle of heads was held. I've always hated that stupid name. What it stood for was just as dumb. The Battle of Heads they called it, was widely known as the BOH Gala. This was an annual gathering held by MTV, Vogue, and Louis Vuitton that showcased all the success the members accomplished over the span of a year. It was kind of like the Met Gala but with old men bragging to one another. In all honesty, it was just a day when all household names in the industry came together over champagne to boast about how big their balls have gotten. A room filled with rich pricks and highly paid prostitutes that clung to their arms. It was the one day of the year when these old, slimy geezers could feel like they were doing something worthwhile.

Being that I was the youngest there it would always cause such an uproar. Last year was one to remember. I left the gathering with the Medal of Kings. The highest award that could be given at that ceremony. Richard was furious. At the time he had made sure to pull out all the stops to secure his win. From paying off judges to sleeping with the ballot holder. He did all that he could. His efforts unfortunately were in vain. This year will be no different I will rise from my ashes, and I will win. The only problem was this ongoing murder mystery that I have somehow gotten mixed up in. However it was to be done; it would be done.

Wasting no time, I reached for my phone and called up Katelyn who answered on the second ring. "Good morning, Mr. Gates. Will you be in today?" Her chipper tone was warm and ever so welcoming. "Not today, Katelyn, however, I need you here." I pulled up my laptop before typing up an email and sending it to her. "Send this out to 30 of the applicants on our waiting list, we're having a walk-in interview next week here at the Manor. As for my interviews, they will all be done today. Send out the confirmations and be here by 3, not a second later..." I paused as the clicking of her typing away caught my attention. When I had said her skills as my secretary were average, I meant average for my standards. Katelyn was way above the bar for anyone else. It was the reason I chose her all those years ago. She stood out to me, and she has been by my side ever since. "Do I get Audrey for hair, makeup, and wardrobe?" She asked as her typing came to a pause. "No, get Sash. She knows how I like my eyebrows." I said trailing to the kitchen for a drink of water. "Refreshment?" She asked as her typing continued. "You know what to order." I took a sip.

"Will that be all sir?" "Yes, thank you, Katelyn." With that, we said our goodbyes and hung up.

What I was doing was risky. By now the news of my arrest had more than likely been released to the public. Which meant those journalists were only coming here with only one intent to gather the scoop and made sure they got it first. Today I could tell would be yet another pain in my neck, but it has to be done.
This would secure my innocence and get my side of the story out there. Of course, this would not be easy. They were going to drill me, and they would not let up and that I know.

Just what to expect from Katelyn, she always delivers. She got here right on time and not a second later. All was in place. Refreshments got here on time and the cars were lined up outside ready and waiting.
Sash of course was the only one who was late, but that was just Sash. Fashionably late she called it. To me it was simply unprofessional; but again, Sash was just like that.

"Ace!" A shout came from behind me intruding my thoughts. I turned and a tall figure approached me.
Long legs that stretched for miles, dark chocolate-coloured skin that would melt in my mouth. Black curly hair that was styled into an afro. Her curves were highlighted in a tight brightly coloured bodysuit. Her bust was decorated with a diamond pendant that hung from her neck, and the chandelier earrings she wore complimented her honey-brown eyes. Her pink lips were full and covered in a coat of sparkly gloss. Sash.

She has been my personal stylist for the last 6 months. The day we met; she was marching in the streets of New York protesting woman's right to not wear a bra in public without being sexualized. I couldn't have cared less about what was being said that day; but topless beauties marching the streets of New York, I agreed with. After her speech, I was more impressed about her juicy tits than what she was really saying. I took her back to the room where I was staying, and the rest was history. Come to think of it I really should stop mixing business with pleasure.  

"I see you're late as ever." I greeted her with a warm smile before embracing her in a short hug. "I see your eyebrow is still a mess." She pulled away and a cold scoff left her lips. She was mocking me. I did deserve it, but it still stung regardless. "I guess you're still a bit salty with me." I cupped her face and brought her scornful gaze to mine. "Why wouldn't I be? You didn't listen to me and now your eyebrows are a mess. You know I'm the only person who can manage them." She pulled away and her arms crossed hugging her breasts. " You were out of the country Sash; how cold do you think I am to call you back from your vacation just to be my hair and makeup for one night?" 

"All I'm hearing is excuses. Whether you like it or not I'm your stylist, so if you call, I should be there. That's my job, that's what I get paid for and you know damn well I'm great at it." Again, she wasn't wrong. She was good at what she did. The best stylist in New York. I can't begin to count the number of red carpet looks she created or the amount of following and influence she had garnered. Sash was a beast in her work, and she made sure everyone knew it. "You're right I'm sorry, I should have called you, and not hired a free-lance artist." 

"I don't forgive you." She rolled her eyes with a playful smirk. "How about donuts then, and a grande latte?" I pulled her in beneath my arm as we made our way to her station. "Extra foam?" "As much as you like." I sat and her hand combed through my mane. "Fine then you're forgiven, just don't do that shit again."  

"I won't."