Single Wives Club
By Poison Ivy
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About this ebook
In "The Single Wives Club," a captivating multicultural criminal romance novel, secrets, betrayal, and passion intertwine in a dangerous dance of desire and deceit.
Regina, a wealthy woman trapped in a loveless marriage, finds solace and excitement in the arms of Lione
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Book preview
Single Wives Club - Poison Ivy
Chapter One
Regina
Staring up at the magnificent twenty-two floors of the luxurious hotel ahead, a nagging intuition whispered that I was on the brink of a momentous mistake. Michael had become increasingly suspicious lately, and his private investigators were no longer discreet about following me. It was only a matter of time before they reported my meeting with my 'lover,' as Michael had disdainfully referred to him just two nights ago.
As I pulled up to the valet and stepped out of the car, I took a moment to compose myself. I straightened my white silk dress, ensuring it fell gracefully around me, and ran my fingers through my long dark hair to give it a little more volume. Confidence was key, even in the face of danger.
With a deep breath, I pushed open the grand glass door and entered the lobby. The click of my stilettos on the marble floor echoed through the spacious room, but I was relieved to find that it was relatively empty. Most patrons had already made their way to the restaurant, leaving me with a semblance of privacy during this lunchtime encounter.
I pulled out my phone and glanced at his last text message: 1636. Room 1636, where he was waiting for me. I hadn't divulged anything about Michael's accusations over the phone; I believed it was best to discuss it face-to-face. Although the thought of seeing him filled me with excitement, I had to maintain control today. There would be no intimacy this afternoon, or perhaps ever again. If I didn't end it now, something terrible would inevitably occur—to both of us—and I couldn't allow that to happen.
Making my way to the bank of elevators, I pressed the UP button and patiently waited for the doors to open. In the reflective surface, I studied my appearance. My hair and makeup were flawlessly done, but inside, I was a complete wreck. My anxiety surged, causing my hands to tremble uncontrollably. While I knew Lionel would understand my decision to end things, I still felt nervous about having that conversation. Truth be told, I didn't truly want to end it either. He had given me the most exhilarating experiences of my life over the past three months.
As the elevator doors slid open, I pressed the number 16 button. Luckily, no one else joined me, granting me a moment of solitude. Leaning my head against the mirrored wall, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift back to the memory of our first encounter.
It had been Marie's birthday party at her condominium, which unexpectedly transformed into a massive celebration. Michael, my partner, couldn't attend, as he was occupied with overseeing a hotel merger, or was it a trip to London or Tokyo? Frankly, I had lost track of his constant comings and goings.
With the weekend all to myself, I had intentionally chosen to wear my most alluring black dress, applied an excessive amount of makeup, and embarked on a mission to let loose. The party was in full swing, and I found myself taking shots and dancing energetically with my girlfriends. And then, there he was—a striking figure in a white suit with a partially unbuttoned blue shirt. The moment his eyes met mine, I knew there was an undeniable connection.
That night, we found ourselves in a hotel room, succumbing to our desires. Since then, our rendezvous had exclusively taken place in hotels, though never in any of my husband's establishments, of course.
The elevator's pleasant DING
signaled my arrival as the doors slid open, granting me access to the sixteenth floor. Room 1636 awaited me at the far end, nestled within the honeymoon suite. A smile crept onto my lips, momentarily overpowering the nervousness coursing through me. Lionel certainly had a knack for invoking romance in his gestures.
Standing before the door, I hesitated for a brief moment, gathering my resolve before summoning the courage to knock. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand and gently tapped my knuckles against the wooden surface.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Moments passed before the sound of approaching footsteps reached my ears, and at last, the door swung open. There stood Lionel, dressed in black pants and a green button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves that exposed his forearms.
Hey, Regina, come on in,
he said, reaching out to take my hand and guiding me inside the room. As the door closed behind us, his arm snaked around my waist, drawing me closer to him. I missed you.
It's only been a week,
I responded, a hint of amusement in my voice.
But it felt like an eternity,
he confessed, his lips capturing mine in a passionate kiss that made my knees tremble. Just as I thought I might collapse, he broke the kiss, stepping away from me. With his back turned, I pressed my hand against the paneled wall for support, silently grateful for its steadying presence.
Would you like some champagne?
Lionel asked, breaking the brief moment of silence.
Uh, sure,
I replied, my voice tinged with uncertainty. Do you have anything to eat?
Without hesitation, Lionel began making his way down the hall of the suite, glancing back at me. No, but I can order something. What would you like?
I hesitated, unsure of my appetite. Oh, I don't know. I'm not really hungry.
He chuckled, his laughter filling the room, and continued walking toward the bar. Curiosity piqued, I followed his lead, fully stepping into the room and taking in the opulent decor. Lionel deftly grabbed the champagne bottle from an ice bucket, expertly popping the cork and pouring two glasses, his movements both fluid and confident.
Bringing the glass to me, Lionel locks eyes with me and a smile graces his lips. Cheers, babe,
he says warmly.
Returning his smile, I raise my glass. Cheers.
The liquid disappears from the glass almost instantly as I take a quick sip.
Lionel chuckles. I guess you were thirsty.
He takes the empty glass from my hand, his eyes still fixed on me. His fingers delicately brush a strand of hair behind my ear, and then his head lowers, his lips grazing my earlobe. A soft moan escapes my lips as I instinctively grab onto his arms, pulling him closer to me. He trails kisses down my neck, his hands exploring my back, seeking the zipper of my dress, and--
Lionel, we have to stop,
I interject, stepping backward and turning away from him, desperately trying to quell the intense desire that had surged within me.
Stop? What do you mean? Are you alright? Do you not feel well or--
Lionel's voice filled