Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

I wanted to talk to you about that.” She clasped Mia’s arm and her diamond ring flashed in the late-morning light. “Now that Savannah had the baby and can fit into something ‘fabulous,’ as she said, we wanted a December wedding. Do you think you can put something together in time?”

      Mia stopped short, propped her hand on her hip and gave Claudia a look of mild reprimand. “Claudia, this is me. If you said your wedding was this afternoon and you wanted it in Paris, I would make it happen. It’s what I do.”

      Claudia laughed in response. “Chile, what was I thinking? Go on,” she said, still chuckling. “Jean is upstairs in her office.”

      “We’ll make an appointment to talk,” she promised before heading off.

      * * *

      Mia went up the stairs and down the “hall of fame” as it had been dubbed. The walls on either side were lined with portraits of all the Cartel members who had been affiliated for at least a year and had successfully completed their assignments. She smiled as she spotted Savannah’s photo and then two photos down was one of Danielle. Claudia’s was at the beginning of the row, right next to Jean. Mia drew in a breath of resolve. One day soon her photo would grace the hall of fame, too.

      Mia knocked lightly on the closed door.

      “Come in.” Jean looked up from her computer screen when Mia entered. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

      Mia did as instructed, taking in the room while she waited. As with all of the brownstones in Harlem and in Brooklyn—which had not been cut up or converted—the rooms were enormous; grand would be a better word. Vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, parquet floors, mahogany sliding doors, massive mantelpieces, stained-glass windows and working fireplaces. Some even had the claw-foot bathtubs and original porcelain sconces.

      She’d grown up in a brownstone on Putnam Avenue in Brooklyn. Not quite as big as this one, but large enough. So any time she came here she felt right at home.

      Mia crossed her legs.

      “Thank you for coming,” Jean began, bypassing any pleasantries.

      Mia merely nodded, knowing from experience that Jean wasn’t one for chitchat.

      “I have an assignment that is perfect for you, especially with the business that you’re in.”

      Jean took a sealed manila envelope from her desk drawer. “All the details are inside. I’ll briefly give you some background. This was handed to me from a personal contact at the FBI. There are some extremely high-profile individuals involved and before the lid gets blown off, they need to be absolutely sure.” She cleared her throat and removed her red-framed glasses, setting them gently down on the desktop. “There is a major, very elite, very exclusive escort service operating in New York City. Although that’s nothing new, what is new is that it appears to be run by Avante Enterprises. You need to find a way to get inside the organization, and get the evidence that the Feds need to shut it down.”

      For an instant, Mia couldn’t move. She hoped that Jean couldn’t read the distress on her face, or hear the escalated pounding of her heart. Avante Enterprises had been one of her clients, and several years ago she’d broken a cardinal rule and had a short but fiery affair with its CEO, Michael Burke.

      Chapter 2

      Mia managed to get through the rest of the briefing without screaming. When she got behind the wheel of her Lexus, she wasn’t quite certain she’d heard anything Jean had said after she’d dropped her Michael Burke bombshell.

      By rote she turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, along with the sounds of Marvin Gaye’s classic, “What’s Going On.”

      That was the question of the day, she mused. She put on her glasses, drew in a long steadying breath and slowly pulled off in the early-afternoon traffic.

      * * *

      In the privacy of her business office, a ground-floor rental in SoHo, Mia closed and locked the door on the off chance that her new assistant, Ashley Temple, might decide to burst in—as she was prone to do—to update her on the latest TMZ news (a celebrity online and off-line news outlet). She was relieved that Ashley wasn’t up front when she came in and she was able to get to her office undetected, at least for the time being.

      Mia depressed the Do Not Disturb button on her phone, then removed the manila envelope from her purse.

      She placed it on the desk and stared at the innocuous-looking envelope. It looked like millions of others, but she knew better. The contents had the potential to turn her life inside out.

      The affair between her and Michael had been discreet. No one knew about it, especially within the business circles they traveled in. Not even Savannah or Danielle had any idea that anything had transpired. They’d always believed that she simply hadn’t found the right man and, until she’d met Michael, she hadn’t.

      When they broke up, it was a long three years before she started intermittently dating. But she’d never found anyone who could measure up—until Steven Long.

      Mia ran her manicured finger across the smooth surface of the envelope.

      If she broke the seal and opened it, there was no turning back. She’d have to carry out the assignment. Her type-A personality wouldn’t allow her to give up or turn the reins over to someone else.

      Drawing in a long breath, she exhaled her doubts and trepidations and broke the seal.

      The documents detailed Michael’s rise up the business ranks to eventually running his own management company. He was considered one of the best in the management consulting business.

      Her pulse pounded in her temples when she scrolled down to review his personal information.

      Marital Status: Divorced

      Reflexively, she gripped the pages tighter between her fingers. Her heart thumped as her breathing shortened.

      Divorced. He was free. At least on paper.

      He was married when they’d met. Guilt had riddled her each time they’d made love until her conscience had no longer allowed her to do that to another woman. Michael had literally begged her not to leave him. He’d promised to get a divorce—just give me some time, he’d said.

      But time and promises were things she could not depend on, nor did she want to.

      “I can’t do this anymore, Michael,” she recalled saying to him, the agony of speaking the words making her voice paper thin, sounding weak and without conviction.

      He turned onto his side. His dark brown eyes moved slowly along her face. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “Do what?” he asked, his voice husky and taunting. “This?” His large hand slid between her damp thighs and gently caressed her there.

      Mia drew in a sharp breath as the powerful sensations rippled through her.

      “Michael...” Her hips arched. She gripped his shoulders and he rose above her, bracing his weight on his forearms.

      “I love you so much, Mia,” he said on a ragged breath as he pushed slowly inside her.

      Mia wrapped her body and her heart around him, giving him all of her because she knew that this could never happen again.

      And it didn’t.

      * * *

      Mia ran her hand along the length of her hair and for a moment shut her eyes, wishing the images of the past away.

      She looked down and read further. Michael had been under surveillance for a while. He’d come under suspicion during a routine audit of his company’s finances. There were several discrepancies, which had apparently been cleared up, but he remained a blip on the radar screen.

      Apparently, deposits of three to five thousand dollars were routinely placed in one of his secondary accounts,