23. Serena
Serena
I snuck into the booth opposite Jenese, hoping nobody would notice me in the dim light. It worked out well that she chose the darkest corner. I rummaged through my purse until I found the USB drive and flung it onto the metal table.
“It’s done. Now give me the manuscript.”
She let out a sigh, gently putting her drink down. A half-smoked cigar dangled from her lips, the scent of rich tobacco filling the air. “Whoa, whoa, now. Tell me, how was it? Like getting back onto a bike…or a dick after a long time?”
“Cut the bullshit, Jenese. We had a deal.” I set my purse on the table, the charm attached to it jingling.
“Cute charm,” Jenese said.
Yes, it had been thrilling.
Exciting.
I had felt truly alive for the first time in years.
But it was wrong. That’s why I walked away from it. Her. She’d been a great mentor for a time, but the lying, the stealing, all that got old. I wanted everything I owned to be because I worked for it. Not because I did something underhanded to get it.
“Where is the Harrington estate? You said two weeks. It’s been four.” Jenese glared at me.
“Legalities take time.”
“Don’t insult me.” Her voice cut sharper now. “I trained you better than that. You’ve been stalling. You’re not slick, sugar.”
“Jenese—”
She leaned forward, eyes glinting.
“But here’s the thing, baby girl: I don’t bluff. I sent a little something off to the Lush Chronicles . Just a teaser. Names omitted. For now.”
My heart skipped, but my face didn’t move. I couldn’t let her see it.
“You couldn’t.”
She slid this week’s paper over to me, with a section circled for me to read.
Dear Dahlia,
What’s a woman to do when the girl she molded and raised starts playing queen? When the protégée becomes a backstabbing little heiress with a taste for dirty money and even dirtier men? Asking for a friend. Maybe two.
—Retired, Not Finished
“It’s one of those Dear Abby sections, but I love the name Dahlia. I knew a girl named that twenty years ago. Skanky hoe. But I know the old ladies in society are gonna be talking about this column for a while.” Jenese leaned back, crossing her legs, entirely too pleased with herself.
I crushed the paper in my hand. I needed to buy every copy of that magazine in town. Right now. Burn them if I had to. Call in favors, cash in leverage. Whatever it took to bury this before it bloomed into something I couldn’t control.
She smirked. “All roads lead to you eventually.”
“You spiteful bitch.”
Jenese didn’t even flinch. “Takes one to know one.”
“How’s your food?” Jenese cut into her veal without looking up.
She promised to teach me how to be like her. Demand respect.
Now I felt like I’d been used.
For months we’d just been doing this. Dinners and watching people. I’d messed up again yesterday, and Mama’s put-downs were still echoing in my head. Weak. Na?ve. Mistake .
“Okay, what’s happening? Aren’t you going to teach me?”
Jenese didn’t even look up. “I told you, wait and see.”
I sighed in frustration. That’s all she said. Wait and see. Patience. I was beginning to think I got scammed. I’d been too desperate. She’d taken the easy mark I’d been.
“I’m just going to go ? —”
I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor, ready to cut my losses, but Jenese’s hand shot out and caught my wrist, her fingers surprisingly strong.
“See?”
I followed her gaze across the room.
A woman had just walked in—tall, polished, in a simple beige wrap dress. She wore oversized sunglasses despite the low light.
Jenese’s smile curled sharp. “There she is.”
“Who?”
“Kaitlin Halstrom,” Jenese spat.
I blinked.
“She slept with my ex-boyfriend,” Jenese said calmly, spearing another bite of food. “I slept with hers. But that’s not why we’re here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why?”
“Because two years ago, Kaitlin tried to have me blacklisted from every boardroom in the city.” Jenese finally turned to look at me, her gaze cool and unreadable.
My brows lifted. “What?”
“She was supposed to partner with me. We’d drafted a proposal. Shared confidential info. Then she pulled out last minute and went public with an ‘anonymous’ story about me.” Jenese leaned back in her chair, lifting her wineglass. “It almost worked. I didn’t forget that.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I asked, throat tightening.
“You’ll befriend her. Get close. Make her trust you. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I tilted my head at her. She wanted me to pretend to be someone’s friend? “You said you’d teach me to be like you.”
Jenese raised an eyebrow. “You want power, or pity?”
I looked back at Camille again.
“I don’t see how befriending her is going to make me a CEO.”
Jenese smirked like I’d said something adorably naive. “You think CEOs are chosen? They’re built. And before that? They’re underestimated.”
She set down her fork with care.
“You need to understand that there are two types of people in our world. Those that are for us, and those against. Those against? Well…” She tilted her head, gaze sharp.
“We get rid of them. Or we make it impossible for them to move without stepping through us. Your mother wants somebody like that.”
I sat with that. Let it settle in the pit of my stomach. I thought she’d give me books to read. Tools. Strategy. A blueprint.
But if I wanted Mama’s respect, I had to prove I could be like her.
I picked up my water glass, hand steady. “So how close do you want me to get?”
Mama would be proud of me. I just knew it.
“I bet you felt it. That fire. That hunger. Lush is too small for you, Serena. You can pretend you don’t miss us , but I know better.” Jenese leaned in, eyes gleaming like a cat that had cornered its prey.
I clenched my jaw. “I’m not like you.”
“Oh, honey. You are exactly like me. That’s why I picked you.”
I hated her. I hated that she was right. But most of all, I hated the part of me that still wanted more.
Jenese tapped her fingers on the table before she flicked her cigar into the ashtray. “There are some things we need to discuss concerning our original deal.”
“You said I do the job, you give me the chapters.”
“Why, yes. In theory.”
I shook my head. “We had a deal.”
“Which you still haven’t fulfilled.”
“I just need another week?—”
Jenese held up her hand. “Save the excuses. You’re not done until I say you’re done.”
“I don’t owe you forever.”
“You owe me as long as I have this manuscript,” she said, tapping the side of her bag. “Unless you’d like me to share it with someone? Maybe your charming husband? Or better yet, the press? How about your mama?”
She never intended to let me go.
Of course.
“I’ve got another opportunity. A small thing. You’ll be doing what you’re good at—blending in, observing, smiling when needed.”
A pause.
“It’ll be fun. And once it’s done, we can revisit the topic of the manuscript.”
I could walk away. Say to hell with the manuscript, the secrets, the leverage. But what would that make me? Powerless. Exposed. Predictable.
We had screwed over too many names and faces. Could I really handle that fallout?
Miles.
I couldn’t handle him seeing me as someone else, different than how he saw me now. If I said yes, I’d give her one more inch of rope. If I said no, she’d strangle me with it anyway.
Jenese wanted to play? Fine. “What do you want now?”
“I just need you to place a small little item on someone’s property.”
“Who is it this time?”
“A fella named Jasper Crowe.”
“Two men? Exes you’re trying to get back at? I thought you were the love ’em and leave ’em type, Jenese.”
She kept a straight face, but a little amusement flickered in her eyes.
“Are you going to give me any more information?” I asked.
Jenese rolled her eyes. “Jasper Crowe is a former polo player still holdin’ on to the glory days.
Sad. But he does like to host these matches where he is miraculously the winner.
During the match, get inside his house and leave my gift somewhere personal.
” She reached into her bag and slid a small velvet box toward me.
“What’s in it?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not explosive,” she said with a sly grin. “Now run along.”
I sighed, taking the velvet box and putting it in my purse. “I’m serious, Jenese. This needs to be over.”
“Whatever you say to make yourself feel better.”
I stood, and Jenese cleared her throat.
“Remember this feeling, Serena.”
I paused for half a second.
“The rush. The fear. The stakes.” Her smile curled like smoke. “That’s what power tastes like—when you know just how fast it can all fall apart.”
I spun around, the plush carpet yielding softly beneath my feet as I hurried from the lounge. I wanted to get back home. Back to Miles.
Hell, I’d take Doughboy over this.
Down the hall, I could hear the low hum of voices coming from the front door. I turned the corner and froze.
Mama.
My first thought was to run, but I couldn’t. I saw her talking to the receptionist, and the receptionist pointed back toward me, her eyes still on Mama.
I stumbled backward in a panic. I had to hide.
My heart pounded in my chest as I hurried down the long, dimly lit hallway, each echoing footstep amplifying the feeling that I was losing my mind. Mama couldn’t find me here.
What the hell was she doing here?
Mama didn’t smoke. She’d have a drink now and then, but after her checkup, she cut back to just two glasses of wine weekly. The lounge was full of either really young people or really old people.
I turned sharply and ducked into a doorway on my left, slipping inside before I could second-guess it. The space was small—just a private room, dimly lit, empty except for a few leather chairs and a cigar tray on the side table.
My breath hitched as I eased the door almost shut, leaving just a sliver of space to see through.
“Right this way, ma’am,” I heard a voice say.
“You have private rooms?” Mama said.
No, no, no.
I pressed myself against the wall, my breath caught in my throat. If they picked this room—if she walked through that door?—
I gripped my purse so tight my knuckles ached, my mind racing for an escape. But there was nowhere to go. No back exit, no furniture big enough to hide behind. Just me, a few chairs, and the suffocating weight of bad luck pressing down on my chest.
The floor outside creaked. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.
Please, not this room.
“Yes, ma’am. Our private lounges offer more discretion. Would you like to see one?”
Mama made a sound, a thoughtful hum.
“No need,” Mama said. “I’m already late.” Her heels picked up again, moving away.
My shoulders sagged, my legs so weak I had to brace myself against the doorframe. I stayed still for several more seconds, my body locked in place, waiting until I was sure she was gone. Only when the sound of her voice faded completely did I let out the breath I had been holding.
Then I eased the door open a bit more and looked down the hallway.
The coast was clear.
I slipped back into the hall and made my way toward the front door, my pulse still racing.
That was too close.
Too damn close. But I reached for the little charm on my purse. I flipped it over to where there was a light blinking.
Yes.
It had recorded our entire conversation, and I was one step closer to getting rid of Jenese.