The End of You: A Single Lady Spy Series Novella (The Single Lady Spy Series Book 3) Read Online Free

him, the ungettable get. The unattainable man
behind the mask.
    My
hands reached behind me, clutching to the doorknob. I turned it, opening the
door slowly, as if fleeing a tiger, and slipped out into the open jet plane,
closing the door behind me.
    I
turned and walked back to my seat, curious as to how close we were to landing.
The jet was dark as the skies had yet to see the morning sun. We were flying
through the night, a red eye with a black heart.
    I
sat down, hating the fact my bare ass was on his seat. God only knew what he
did in them. He liked to pretend he didn't have sex on his planes with anyone
but me, but I was smarter than I looked, most days.
    The
door to the back didn't open and I had to admit it bothered me. I wanted him to
rush the door, scooping me up and pinning me against the wall.
    Instead,
I fell asleep looking like a prostitute with my ass on his seat, no doubt
getting an infection.
    We
landed with a jolt that woke me instantly. I blinked away the confusion of
where I was and what was going on. It always took a second when we were on
mission. I was used to warm mornings in my house with a cup of coffee as I
planned my day around dropping my kids off at various activities or school.
    His
body was in my peripheral but not next to me. I shivered, realizing I was still
in my disturbing dress and not just bare-assed but also barefoot. I grimaced,
standing and walking to the back after the plane settled.
    “Don't
change, just add some shoes and makeup. You know what the girls I associate
with look like,” he muttered from behind his laptop.
    I
sighed, not even considering changing. I knew what would happen. He would do
his impatient act where he stood at the door, barring the way until I wanted to
act like a big girl and put my proper spy clothes on. It always meant I ended
up looking like a hooker. It was my most believable act which I felt said very
little about my personality. Luce, my only other female partner, was never
asked to dress like a whore.
    I
slipped into the back room, staring at the bed for a moment. Bits of feathers,
foam, and mattress springs covered the room. He’d raged, tearing it all to hell
like a child.
    I
made a mental note to add this to the reasons why we would never work. I had
children enough to raise; I didn't need to add another who was wanted by every
agency in the world for one heinous act or another.
    The
closet was still pristine, apart from a few feathers from the pillows. I ran my
fingers along the pieces, separated by color. The varying fabrics tickled my
fingertips, each one holding promise of a fun time. Pantsuits, dresses, skirts,
blouses, tanks, and even a few pieces of lingerie. Every one of them designer
and costing more than my monthly mortgage payment. To him it was nothing, akin
to dropping a dollar in a bucket for a homeless man. No, for him spending all
this money on clothing for a woman he couldn't ever have was just a regular
Tuesday. He was bizarre in the most extreme ways.
    I
glanced at the red dress, knowing I looked slutty but I could do better.
Servario wasn't a regular criminal mastermind. He was a savant of the
underworld, and for that reason I could get away with a much nicer outfit. I
lifted a black bustier-styled midriff tank top by Diane von Furstenberg. It
made my boobs look like they were seventeen instead of thirty-six so that was
obviously a better choice than the tube dress. It tied up from the bottom to
the top in the front with laces, revealing my pale skin through it. It was a
classy attempt at slutty. I peeled the red dress down my legs, pulling on the
white, low-slung skirt, also by Diane von Furstenberg. I contemplated wearing
some cute wedges but I knew he would need my legs to look their best. Okay, and
I really wanted to wear the red Jimmy Choo lace pumps. They had a golden heel
and I imagined if I were ever to get married again they would be the secret
hiding beneath my wedding gown.
    My
life made that dream laughable but a girl