Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
M arise sat in the passenger seat of Kathleen's car, watching the neat streets of Forest Hills roll by.
A month ago, the city meant a different world to her.
She had come to New York for a job, nothing more.
The city wasn’t a dream or a destination, it was a means to an end.
She hadn’t come to admire the skyline or reinvent herself; she came because the city was her hunting ground to fulfil her contract.
Now it was simply the road to lunch. A family gathering to meet the parents, something that was way out of her comfort zone.
She rested her arm on the door, fingers idly tracing the edge of the window, and tried to imagine what she might have been doing today if her life hadn’t taken this detour.
She would have already filed the report, collected her payment, and deleted all traces of Kathleen Knowles from her database.
She wouldn’t have known the feel of Kathleen’s hair under her fingers, or how her voice changed when she got excited about her weird plants.
"You’re quiet," Kathleen said, glancing sideways.
Marise lifted a shoulder. "Just thinking."
Kathleen slowed the car at a roundabout. "You can still back out. We can say you got sick."
Marise gave a low laugh. "And miss the pleasure of parental interrogation? Not a chance."
Kathleen smiled, though it faded quickly. "Mom can be a bit... blunt. Dad will like you because I do."
"I can handle her."
"They think you’re an escort."
"I was," Marise said calmly.
"Do you want to keep using Veronica?" Kathleen asked.
That caught her off guard. Marise looked over, studying the lines of Kathleen’s face. "Do you want me to?"
Kathleen pulled into the curb and let the engine idle. "I want you to choose for yourself. I also know you said you wanted to let go of your old life."
Marise considered that. Her real name was a ghost. A tool she used when she needed to vanish or apply for licenses or reach contacts from her past. Veronica Hale had been an alias, a performance, but it had become something more.
"Veronica's fine," she said quietly. "For now, that’s who I want to be. We can put Marise as my second name."
Kathleen reached across and squeezed her hand. "Then Veronica Marise Hale it is."
Five minutes on, she turned into a driveway leading to a private and quietly expensive house.
It was built with a steep gabled roof and a mix of brick and timber framing the facade.
Ivy grew along one wall, and the front door was a heavy arched wood set into a small stone entryway.
Leaded glass windows lined the front, and a narrow path led through a neatly kept garden to a detached garage in the back.
They got out of the car and walked the short path to the Knowles' front door.
Rhonda Knowles was dressed in beige linen slacks and a sleeveless blouse. Her hair was in a stylish bob, her eyes sharp behind designer frames.
"Kathleen," she said, giving her a hug before turning to Marise. "How are you Veronica."
Marise smiled and extended her hand. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Knowles."
Rhonda peered at her for a moment before saying a little frostily. "Come on in."
John Knowles looked relaxed when he met them in the hallway. "Hello, Kath. Nice to see you, Veronica," he said, offering a sincere smile. "Come into the lounge and we’ll have a drink before lunch."
Marise followed Kathleen through to the lounge, sniffing appreciatively as she passed the kitchen. The house smelled of herbs and roast chicken; she couldn’t remember when she last had a home cooked Sunday dinner. Or if she ever had.
She settled in a chair, enjoying the light classical music playing low from unseen speakers.
Conversation skated across neutral topics: weather, work, and the article Kathleen had published.
They were on their second drink when Rhonda set down her glass with a click. "So, Veronica. May I ask how you and my daughter met?"
Kathleen tensed. Marise took a sip before she said, "We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance."
"Oh?"
"It wasn’t traditional," Marise said, her tone measured. "But I imagine a lot of things about me won’t be."
Rhonda’s smile was tight. "Darlene said you are an escort."
John cleared his throat.
Kathleen sat up straighter. "Mother?—"
"It’s all right," Marise said softly. She looked Rhonda in the eye. "I worked as a discreet companion for high-end clients. It’s a service provided for people who don’t want to go down the path of traditional dating, who want someone to accompany them for the night.
Some of them are lonely, some want a companion for a function, others simply desire to have dinner and talk. All of them look for connection."
“You are paid to be that companion?" Rhonda said.
"I was. I’ve resigned from the agency."
Rhonda looked her daughter. “You hired her to escort you to functions, Kathleen?”
Kathleen stopped fidgeting with her glass and looked her mother in the eye. "I did, Mom. You know how awkward I am at mixing. I hate going out amongst people. This was my choice. I’m not asking for your approval, only understanding."
There was an awkward silence and then John finally spoke, "The girl’s right, Rhonda.
She’s an adult and can make her own decisions without criticism from us.
Personally, Kathy love, I think you made a wise decision.
From what I see of Veronica, she’s a woman with experience who looks after those in her care.
What does it matter that you paid her to be your companion.
What’s important is that she made you feel at ease in an environment you weren’t comfortable in. ”
Kathleen looked at him, relief etched into her face.
“Thanks, Dad. I knew you’d understand. I heard about the agency from a friend who is as shy as me.
I had to go to that gala dinner for the Institute—I was expected to go because my research depends on funding.
Veronica made it bearable for me and she’s…
um…been teaching me how to interact better socially. ”
Marise let the pause stretch, allowing John’s support to settle the tension.
She didn’t want to interfere, but she also wasn’t going to let Rhonda’s disapproval stay unchallenged.
She set her glass on the coffee table. “Mrs. Knowles,” she said, her voice firm, “I understand why you’re uncomfortable.
If I had a daughter, and someone like me walked through the door, I’d have questions too. ”
Rhonda said nothing, but her fingers tapped once against her knee. She was listening.
“What I did was legal and discreet. The agency employed us to give people company and a break from loneliness with dignity. You’d be surprised how many people at these fundraisers and galas hire someone for a night, to have a pleasant, intelligent conversation without performance. It’s not about sex.”
Kathleen shifted beside her, saying nothing, but Marise could feel her approval like a quiet warmth at her side.
Rhonda folded her arms. “You expect me to believe there was no manipulation in that? No power imbalance?”
“I’ve walked away from more clients than I’ve taken on,” Marise replied. “And I never stayed in a situation where I wasn’t the one in control. I had strict rules. That’s more than I can say for a lot of people in more ‘respectable’ professions.”
That landed. Rhonda’s gaze flicked down for a moment. Then she looked up again. “And now?”
“I’ve stepped away, because I’ve found something that matters more. Someone.” She glanced at Kathleen, who blushed but didn’t look away. “I’m not here on a contract. I’m here because I want to be.”
The room was quiet. Even the gentle hum of the speakers had faded as the playlist shifted to silence.
It was John who broke it first, clearing his throat as he leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “I think what Veronica’s trying to say is—she’s not hiding from what she was. And frankly, I’d rather our daughter be with someone who knows who they are than someone pretending to be perfect.”
Kathleen gave a small laugh, somewhere between surprise and gratitude. “That’s exactly it.”
Rhonda looked at her husband, then at her daughter, and finally at Marise again. “I appreciate that you’ve been honest with me. I care about my daughter’s happiness.”
Marise nodded. “So do I, but ultimately, it’s her decision what she does.”
There was a moment of silence before Rhonda smiled, albeit reluctantly. “You’re right. Kathleen will do what she wants and her heart’s set on you.”
Marise gave an answering smile. “Then I’m the lucky one.”
Rhonda sighed and rose. "Shall we adjourn to the dining room. The meal is ready.”
Marise got to her feet. "It smells great."
As they walked out of the lounge, Kathleen squeezed her hand. Marise felt the pressure of it, warm, loving and anchoring.
“Dad,” Kathleen said when they sat down. “Veronica is mad keen on cars. I was telling her about your collection.”
John’s face lit up. “Are you now, Veronica? After lunch, I’ll show you what I have in the garage. You’d be interested in the Porsche 356 Carrera Speedster I bought last year.”
“You have one of those?” said Marise in awe. “The Carrera trim is incredibly rare.”
John beamed at her, with a nod of approval.
Kathleen reached for Marise’s hand under the table and gave it a quiet squeeze. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes said it all. You are perfect.
And for once, Marise believed it.
T hey didn’t speak much on the drive back.
Kathleen kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting in Marise’s lap, fingers tracing gentle circles against her jeans. Outside, the city was starting to glow gold around the edges. It felt like it was finally the beginning of something.
When Kathleen unlocked the door of her apartment and let them in, everything felt different.
Marise stood in the doorway, watching her. “I was proud of you at your parent’s place.”
Kathleen gave a quiet smile. “I meant what I said. You’re not just someone I hired, Veronica. You’re someone I chose.”
Marise crossed to her slowly and took her hand. “I’m yours if you want me.”
Kathleen didn’t answer with words. She stepped in close, wrapped her arms around Marise’s waist, and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed, but filled with gentle love.
They undressed slowly in the bedroom without awkwardness. Kathleen’s hands trembled only once—when she unbuttoned Marise’s shirt and saw the scar near her shoulder, a memory of who she had been.
Marise caught her gaze. “That one wasn’t as bad as it looks.”
Kathleen leaned forward, lips brushing over it in a whispering kiss. “Still, I hate that it’s there.”
Marise said nothing. She couldn’t, not with the way her throat closed up.
Kathleen slid her hands under the shirt and pushed it back off Marise’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She stood there for a moment, looking at her like she couldn’t believe she was there.
Marise’s libido took a giant leap. Of all the women she’d had in her bed, no one had ever looked at her like that.
She reached for Kathleen, hands curving around her waist, then up beneath her top.
She lifted it slowly, feeling each inch of warm skin give way beneath her palms until it was over Kathleen’s head and tossed aside.
Kathleen's breath hitched slightly as Marise kissed the hollow between her breasts, then wandered her lips down lower.
By the time they were in bed, skin to skin, all the nerves had melted into something else.
Marise moved slowly, her hands mapping out every freckle, every breath, every small sound Kathleen made.
Kathleen arched toward her, wrapping her legs around Marise’s hips, her breath coming in shallow gasps as Marise kissed her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her breast. She made soft, desperate noises that sent heat rushing through Marise’s core.
“You feel like everything,” Kathleen whispered.
Marise’s mouth was on hers again before she could think. “So do you.”
Their rhythm grew intense, Kathleen’s hands tangled in Marise’s hair, her body pressing up to meet every movement.
When Kathleen finally came undone beneath her, it wasn’t loud. It was a breathless release, her eyes fluttering shut, her mouth parting around Marise’s name like a prayer. She clung to her tightly, like she couldn’t quite let go.
Marise kissed her cheeks, her lips, her brow. She held her close until Kathleen’s breath began to slow.
Afterwards, they lay wrapped around each other, the bed covers tangled at their waists. Kathleen had her head on Marise’s chest, one arm slung lazily over her stomach.
“I never thought I’d get this,” she murmured, her voice sleep-rough. “Someone who didn’t try to fix me.”
Marise ran her fingers through her hair, anchoring herself in the warmth of her. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Are you going to stay?” Kathleen asked, and this time her question went far deeper than those superficial words.
Marise looked up at the ceiling and let the question settle. Then she turned her face toward her and kissed her softly. “Where else would I want to be. I love you, Kathleen. I think we will do very well together. We complement each other.”
“What will you do? I can’t imagine you sitting still.”
“I have a degree in psychology. I’d like to set up a practise, but first I’ll have to sell my apartment in Boston and wind up everything.” Then added with a touch of pride. “You won’t have to worry about supporting me in the interim. I am very well off.”
“Me too,” said Kathleen. She gave a sleepy smile and burrowed closer. “I love you, Veronica.” She gave a little chuckle. “Dad does too.”
“What about your mother?”
“Mom likes you. Didn’t you notice she gave you the parson’s nose off the chicken. She usually keeps that for herself.”
Marise laughed. “Well. Who would have thought the best compliment I’ve received would be given via a chicken’s butt.”
She lay back with a happy smile. For the first time in years, Marise wasn’t drifting through borrowed lives.
She was exactly where she wanted to be, beside the person she wanted to be with.