STILETTO SISTERHOOD - Book Two

Cait | S-O-S

Cait slid into the backseat of her chauffeured sedan, teeth rattling and legs shaking.

Goosebumps flashed down her arms, her thighs. "Can you please turn on the heat?" she asked, stroking her hands across her naked skin.

The driver arched a curious brow. "It's well over eighty today, Miss. Are you su—?"

"Forget it," she sighed, hugging herself. "Just turn off the AC, then."

He flicked the switch and the vents went silent. Rolling up the partition between them, Cait cupped her face and sobbed her heart out into her palms.

Married.

Married?

Married!

God the bastard. How had she been so stupid? Soon as Angela speared her with the truth, it came flooding back—the smallest hint of a detail she'd forgotten from when she'd met Evan nearly two years ago at a fashion event in New York. A wedding band. Slender and platinum. She'd barely given it much thought because, well, why would she?

But now? Now???

When he had stopped wearing it? Somewhere after that night it had slipped off his finger and vanished into the far corners of her memory, never to be seen or heard of again. They'd seen one another dozens of times at least in a professional capacity. How the hell did he have a wife that no one ever spoke of? She was never dangling from his arm or following him to shows, parties or events.

No one ever spoke of Angela Torres—if they'd been married for well over a decade, then where the hell had she been hiding the last two years?

The sedan pulled outside of her airbnb, a gorgeous townhouse she'd booked with an upper patio and pool overlooking LAX, where Earl was undoubtedly sunning himself right now like a cat in his itty bitty yellow bathing suit bottoms.

Sure enough, he was almost exactly as she'd pictured him, all greased up with a chilled mimosa in hand.

"Darling," he waved an airy hand. "Come, come, I've just popped the bubbles. They're still fresh." His smile fell away as he caught a direct look of her face. "Have you been crying."

Cait hiccoughed, and dissolved in his arms—tanning oil be damned—and he held her fast and tight.

"Easy, mon cher, calmtoi. Tell me what happened? Who ass must I kick, hm?" Peeling away from her, he gathered her damp face, eyes shining with worry.

"I'm...so...stupid." Cait sobbed as he ushered her to a chaise lounge positioned in the shade and then hurried to the lacquered white bar to pour her a flute of champagne. Sunlight glittered on the surface of the pool each time the wind slid over it, rippling the glasslike surface.

"Tell me everything," he said popping down at her side and crossed a lean, muscled leg waxed smooth and already gilded from the sun. She let it all pour from her as she watched that sparkling dance of wind and water and light, a gorgeous—beautiful day to be wrapped up in such misery.

"Merde," Earl cursed, then tipped his glass, draining it dry. "Drink up, cher, you need it more than I do after all that."

So she did. Effervescent bubbles burst on her tongue, bright and fragrant. Earl would've only purchased the absolute best for their little afternoon poolside celebration today.

"How could he lie to me like this? After weeks of us...of this?"

"There is no point speculating until you speak with him," Earl said, plucking her empty glass from her fingers he returned to the bar to top them both up. "Have you called him?"

Cait lowered her eyes to her hands, fingers picking at the hem of her silk shorts. "No."

"Well, then I suggest you do it—and soon. Find out what his side is, and then we'll sort out what to do next."

"She wants me to walk away from him, Earl." She returned his gaze to his—beautiful blue eyes framed with cobalt glasses. "Or she'll ruin me."

He closed his hand over hers, squeezed. "Talk to him first."

Cait left him by the pool, smile hopeful, as she slipped inside and fumbled her way to her room, all gorgeous and sleek with stunning textiles and bold colours like this room had been made for her.

She took a moment to calm herself. To clean her face and gather her wits before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Cait rooted out her tablet and swiped open to Skype. Take it slow and easy, she told herself. Start with conversation, warm him up and then pound him with the truth. Evan's icon had a green active dot—she pressed his image and the screen swam black before opening to show his face.

"There's my girl."

"Am I?" Cait asked. "Because I just came from meeting your wife." Smooth. Wonderful way to just leap down the man's throat. Way to stick to the plan.

"Oh Jesus..."

"No, Angela," Cait amended. "But if you're married to him, too, now would be a good time to fess up."

His face fractured into a mask of pain, eyes closed, he sucked in a bracing breath. "I'm so sorry, I should've told you."

Oh God, he's not even going to try and deny it. "So it's true?"

Evan nodded. "We're separated. Have been for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Almost three years. I've pushed repeatedly for a divorce. She'd moved to America about two years ago, and we sort of lost touch and I was grateful for it. If I'd known she...if—"

"If? No, no god dammit Evan. No fucking 'if'," she snapped, cutting his weak apology off cold. "You should've told me the moment I showed up at your condo wearing nothing but fucking La Perla lingerie and Jimmy Choos. Jesus Christ."

Evan hung his head, a glimmer of tears on his lashes. "I don't have any excuses, Cait, I don't. You're right. At first it honestly didn't occur to me, and then last week I thought...things were taking such a serious turn between us...I never believed they would. So I got my lawyers to reach out and tell her—one final time—to sign the sodding paperwork."

"You told me," tears slipped free, drenching her cheeks and her words, "you told me you were too old to play games."

"Cait—"

"And I believed you."

"Cait, please..." his voice broke, shattered, much like her heart in her chest.

"I need time, Evan. Time to figure this out. Time to decide. Because your wife has vowed to destroy my career because of this. And honestly, it's not the threat that has me backing up here. Because I could face the storm for someone who was worth it. I just need to decide if you are."

She ended the call without saying goodbye, without sticking around to listen to his broken apologies. Clutching the iPad to her chest she swallowed a guttural sob and the tears that wanted to pour out of her with it.

One week. One week to sort out this mess. One week to choose between heart and head.

One week.

God dammit.

Her hand skimmed across the bed, searching for her phone and circled around it like a lifeline. Blasting out a distress signal to the Sisterhood. 

**AN**

Ok so we have a short followup with Cait that will connect with Eshe's scene. For those of you who remember Evan from Book One - how shocked are you by this development? What would you do in Cait's shoes?