This Is Me (Cover Girlfriend, Book Three)

Episode Four

Carlos

No one gets where I am without having that side.  Uncaring, ruthless, driven; pure narcissism.  The ability to see all outcomes; three steps ahead.

Those of us that get here do it by watching for tells; learning.  We know which buttons to push, and when.

Charm.  Breeding.  Charisma.  These factor in, of course.

In some aspects, I am my fathers son.

And as I escort Ms. Lee (Linc’s Terri!) back to my room, I know she’s putty in my hands.

She gives it away by the way her breath catches when my fingers ‘accidently’ brush her skin; the way her pupils hang dilated in her eyes.

I find myself lucky that Linc’s Terri is a gorgeous, ambitious woman, and a fabulous artist in her own right; grind the guilt that begins to lick its way to the surface.  I’m still furious with him; vengeful towards her.

Pain flipped to retaliation helps me accept what I’m about to do.  No shame.

Yet.

I’m surprised when, as soon as the door is closed, she pulls away from me and reaches into her purse.  Ignores me completely to stare at her phone, and then dials a number.  I’m floored that she thinks I don’t understand the Italian that falls from her lips, “Lincoln what are.... Don’t you dare take that tone with me.”  She throws her purse on the couch; keeps her back towards me.

Without shame I eavesdrop on this one-sided conversation, “You are not... Lincoln... Don’t.”  Then.  “Where are you?  I’m coming to get you right now if you don’t leave.”

I watch as she wilts in front of me; whispers, “Don’t do something you’ll regret.  I promise it’s not like that.  Please.  I love you; you know I would never.... NO!  I’m not like that-”

She looks down at the phone in her hand.  I assume he must have hung up on her.

“Trouble in paradise?” I query in my native tongue.

Terri glares at me.  And those ocean eyes of hers?  Are glorious in a storm.  She immediately switches back to her accented English, “You are trouble, Mr. Rickerts.  If Lincoln ends up in another man’s bed tonight, it is all your fault.  I will not feel bad about this.”

Phone tossed onto the couch even as she sinks into the cushions and begins to weep into her palms.

I blink.

‘Lincoln ends up in another man’s bed.’

What?!

I instantly sit beside her; take her into my lap as I would Ali.  Letting her use my shoulder to sob on, I don’t entirely care I have no idea why she’s crying.  Because, eventually (now!), she’s going to tell me what she meant by that comment.

“Where is Lincoln,” I sound out his full name, though it’s foreign to me; rub her back.  Because I need an answer.  Five minutes ago.

“I don’t know,” sniffles.

Pulling out my phone, I dial a number.  Say, “Track this number,” then look at her as I hit speaker.

Terri is wide-eyed, deer in the headlights, lost.

She still manages to rattle off the number as I stare into her eyes; I end the call.  Then I hold her.

“Don’t worry.  We’ll find him,” I say to her.