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He’s wearing his typical black suit and starched white shirt, like a boss, while he chose an elegant wrap dress, lacy bra, and panties for me. I think these red-soled high heels are worth a fortune, too, while I note how every luxe item he bought is blush pink.
It’s the same color as my running leggings yesterday, which he splattered with his groan, and it heats my core.
I’m not afraid of this role-play because it’s real. I want to give Axel an erotic show. I want the power over him. I want to see how much he wants me, too.
The stalking was a big clue, but I thought that was a controlling game for him. Like he just wanted the chase. But Axel said he wants much more with me. He wants to catch me. He wants ustogether.
But what do I want?
The answer terrifies me. I can’t focus on it right now.
Adorning my upper thighs with fake tattoos, I give my body plausible deniability if a video is ever released online.That’s not me. I don’t have tattoos.I dust baby powder over them to make them look more realistic.
The new blonde wig helps. It’s not a cheap one. It looks real, and with the heavier makeup I swipe on and a cute pairof black cat-eye reading glasses, I do look like a seductive secretary.
Opening the door to the jet’s bedroom, I freeze when Axel turns his stare from the window to me.
Suddenly, his eyes soften.
I know he recognizes me from the sex club, and I shrug like, “Yep, that was me, the crying cowgirl. You see, deep down, I hide my vulnerable heart.”
And here I am again, in another disguise for him. “Is this okay?” I ask aloud, inwardly teetering on insecurity.
“Is this strictly professional?” Grant replies instead, “Because, goddamn brother, you’re a stronger man than me.”
“Ms. Jonesworksfor me.” Axel ices his voice. “She knows this is a role, not romance.”
I don’t believe him. Or maybe I don’t want to, and neither does Grant.
“Whatever.” He arches a brow at Axel. “Just remember: stay off camera. Your paralegal is brave as hell, willing to be filmed for our op, but you can’t be.” Pause. “Not ever.”
“Once we enter,” I try to stay on mission, too, telling Grant, “give us an hour, tops, and then call my cell. Yell, and sound like a suspicious husband.”
“An hour’s not long enough,” Axel argues.
“For two people escaping to have an illicit affair? Please,” I scoff, “most would be fucking after two minutes alone.”
“True that,” Grant agrees. “I’m on my wife every chance I get, and it’s perfectly legal.”
“All are well aware your pecker has no OFF switch.”
“Hey,” Grant shrugs at him, “when a man loves his beautiful wife, he’s always turned ON for her.”
“Aw,” I sigh. “What’s your wife’s name?”
Grant shoots Axel a look, and I hold my breath. I want the name of the other queen. I want as much intel as I can get on their world.
“I got the app loaded,” Axel tells Grant, changing the subject.
I clock it, frustrated, but ask, “What app?”
“One that detects hidden cameras using your phone,” Axel answers. “There’s a radio frequency detector in my jacket pocket, too. Let me enter first and make sure the only camera is the one in the bedroom.”
“But shouldn’t I use it? I’m the one in disguise, not you.”
“You’re not entering first,” Axel orders. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t know how to say this nicely, so I won’t; that’s dumb.” I plop down in front of him and buckle my seatbelt. “Give me the detector, and let me enter first. Your face can’t be on camera. And what if there’s one at the front door?”