The Wife Assignment, page 1
THE WIFE ASSIGNMENT
VICTORIA PAIGE
Copyright © 2022 by Victoria Paige
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, events, organization either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, places or locale is entirely coincidental. The publisher is not responsible for any opinion regarding this work on any third-party website that is not affiliated with the publisher or author.
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CONTENTS
About the book
Kelly’s Mafia Family Tree
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Afterword
Connect with the Author
Also by Victoria Paige
ABOUT THE BOOK
On the brink of divorce, he’d play dirty for a second chance.
Levi James is a complicated man.
A teddy bear to his girls.
A bossy lover in the bedroom.
And an elite bodyguard to the stars.
So when another man tries to get between him and his estranged wife,
complicated doesn’t even begin to cut it.
Kelly James doesn’t want complicated.
Proving she can move on from her soon-to-be-ex-husband seems like a brilliant idea.
Until someone close to her goes missing, and the police tag Levi as suspect number one.
When her mafia relations come into question,
complicated becomes deadly.
PROLOGUE
Kelly
“You promised.”
“I told you something came up.” Levi’s voice was barely audible over the phone, the background noise too loud. “There’ll be other birthdays.”
And you’ve only been home for the first two. The two Ashley won’t remember.
“Where are you?” I asked despite the odds against him giving me an answer. Two years before, he’d quit the SEALs to become a mercenary. He didn’t say much about that new gig. I figured they were high risk missions of the plausible deniability type. “Sounds like a bar.”
“Kelly, let me talk to Ash.”
“What for?” Levi promised he’d be home. He confirmed a week ago, although those seven days stretched into a lifetime of waiting for his mission directives to change. So, in a way, I should be used to it. But getting used to it didn’t mean I was okay with it.
“Dammit, Kelly, I don’t have the time to argue with you.”
I bit my lower lip, trying my best to restrain the words I wanted to shout at him.
He exhaled an irritated breath. “Did you get the dollhouse she wanted?”
“Yes. It arrived earlier this week. It’s still in the box.”
“Ask Cillian to set it up.”
Again, I kept quiet because I’d been hoping he would do this for Ash. It might help our youngest daughter warm up to him. As it stood, Ash didn’t want to have anything to do with her father.
“Can I talk to my girls?”
As my resentment struggled with the need to respect my husband’s job, I headed to the kitchen where Ash and Whit were ogling the giant birthday cake. The Frozen castle confection sat majestically on the kitchen island. A gift from Gramps and Nana, it was a replica of the yet-to-be unboxed dollhouse. Emotion prickled my eyes. My grandparents were trying to make up for the void left by my children’s absentee father whom we hadn’t seen in eight months.
“It looks too good to eat, Mama.” Ash’s awestruck gaze swept toward me.
I tamped down bitter feelings and wrestled to put a smile on my face. “Your dad is on the phone.”
My daughters looked at me and then at my chest where the phone was muffled against it. The differences in their expressions stabbed my heart. Whitney—always the Daddy’s girl—was all smiles and sprang forward. Meanwhile, Ashley’s brows furrowed as she returned her attention to the birthday cake.
“Gimme.” Whit shoved her hand toward the phone. I knew Levi wanted to talk to Ash first, because it was her birthday, but I wasn’t going to break Whit’s heart either. My oldest daughter, now seven years old, had been fortunate to experience “doting Dad” Levi before everything went to hell.
After I handed her the phone, she pranced out of the kitchen.
I edged closer to my youngest.
“Hey.” I brushed an imaginary lock from her face. She wouldn’t look at me.
“Your dad wants to talk to you.”
She pursed her lips and fidgeted with the doilies at the base of the cake.
“Ash?”
She glanced up. “Do I have to?”
Those four words had more heartbreak in them than Levi breaking his promise.
“No, sweetie.” It was her birthday dammit. No one was forcing her to do anything. Levi would just have to suck it up. “You don’t have to.”
A small smile erased the anxiety from her face.
“Mom,” Whitney called from behind me. “Dad doesn’t have a lot of time,” she said, handing the phone back to me. The disappointment on Whitney’s face transformed my simmering resentment into seething anger.
“Ash can’t come to the phone.”
Whit’s gaze snapped to her sister’s, but I held a forefinger to my lips before she berated Ash.
For a few seconds, all I heard was laughter in the bar, so I knew Levi hadn’t hung up.
“Don’t know when I can call again.”
“I know.”
“Wish her a happy birthday. Gotta go.”
The abrupt silence over the line told me he’d ended the call.
Gotta go.
This was how he said goodbye to me now? Did he think I encouraged Ash not to talk to him? I realized I still had the phone to my ear listening to nothing. Nothing. Like our marriage.
Goosebumps skated over my skin as I considered the options that had been lurking in the back of my mind.
“I could’ve talked to Dad longer.” Whitney glared at Ash.
My youngest daughter merely shrugged her shoulders, not even looking up from where she’d been mangling the doilies.
“Whit, not today. She can do whatever she wants on her birthday.” I stilled Ash’s fingers from ruining the lacy paper before grasping her shoulders to squeeze them gently. I made a funny face. “Except ruin the cake presentation.”
The girls giggled.
Still, we couldn’t recapture the festive mood from that morning, dampened forever by Levi’s absence.
My anger wasn’t about his job. I had no problems when he’d been with the Teams. He’d withdrawn from us after the event. He became a big rock of anger no one wanted to be around, and he refused to get help for it. Ash was a bubbly girl by nature, but in her father’s presence, she was subdued. As for Whitney, all she wanted was her dad and welcomed any piece of his time he could spare.
They deserved more.
So much more.
Trying not to rant in front of them about their father was draining. I was reaching my own breaking point.
The doorbell blasted through the cloud of misery hovering in the kitchen.
My two girls glanced expectantly at the entryway. “Gramps and Nana!”
“Don’t open the door!” I yelled after them. The exuberance in their stampeding feet trampled the negative vibes that descended over our home. As my hand reached for the handle, I pushed Levi’s broken promises away and opened the door.
Tom Roth darkened the entrance.
“Oh my goodness. When did you get in?” He went to BUD/S training with my brother Callum and had been a longtime friend of the family since.
“Uncle Tom!” Ashley shrieked.
“Happy Birthday, kiddo.” He went down on his haunches and gave my youngest a hug before handing her a box wrapped in festive pink paper. My discerning eyes told me it was a Barbie doll. Whitney wasn’t as animated with men except around her dad and gramps and didn’t rush to meet him. She hung back. Tom was used to it and flashed a grin at my oldest child. “How’re you doing, Whit?”
She mumbled a response.
I nodded to the birthday decor that lay on the counter. “You two are slacking. Didn’t I tell you to decorate the chairs?”
Getting up from his crouch, he said, “I have a meeting tomorrow but I remembered in our last chat, you said it was Ashley’s fifth birthday today so I flew in a day early.” He looked around. “Where’s Levi?”
When he saw the answer in my eyes, his grin faded. “Shit. Sorry.”
I jerked my head toward the kitchen.
Tom followed my lead, giving a low whistle when he took in the cake. “Damn. You sure pulled out all the stops.”
“It’s from Nana and Gramps. They should be here soon.”
“How are they liking LA?” Tom asked.
My grandparents recently moved from New York to Los Angeles. Nana wanted to help with the girls since my career in special effects was taking off. Of course Gramps was fine with the move, especially since the McGraths opened a Whiskey Distillery in San Francisco.
“Nana is ecstatic,” I said. “As for Gramps, he’s happy that she’s happy.”
“I’m glad they’re doing okay.” His eyes bore into mine. “Are you okay?”
Unable to stand the scrutiny, I changed the subject. “Where are my manners?” I feigned a slap to the forehead and headed for the fridge, but Tom snagged my elbow, gently stopping my momentum.
“No rush. It’s me, Kelly.”
I pinched my lips together to keep them from trembling. He was not wrong. Being a former SEAL himself, he helped me understand Levi and what he went through, and why it was difficult for him to open up after what happened. He kept me sane, helping translate my husband’s baffling behavior.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
He cocked his head and looked at me dubiously.
I exhaled a breath. “Okay, I’m not. But you know how the job is.”
“I know what I told you before, but you don’t have to continue making excuses for him.” He let go of me and transferred his hands to his hips, contemplating his shoes before looking up at me. “Do you want me to talk to him next time he’s back on the grid? Knock some sense into that mother—him?”
“Oh … no.” My heart pounded in horror “Don’t. Please don’t. The last thing Levi should know is that I’m talking to you about our troubles.”
Tom dragged a hand down his face. “I know I told you to give him time, but it’s been three years.”
“I know.”
“I hate seeing you like this. You and the girls deserve more.”
Hearing it come from Tom rubbed me the wrong way. It was almost as if I were cheating on my husband.
Still, there was no doubt that he meant well. I put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m fine. Truly, I am.” I gave him a shaky smile. It had been hard to paste a genuine one on my face today, but this time, it was real. “You know how you can help?”
He stilled, and his gaze turned fierce. “Anything.”
“Help us put together the dollhouse.”
1
Eighteen months later
Kelly
I was really doing it. Going on a date with a man who wasn’t my husband.
As though feeling my gaze on him, Tom put down the menu and grinned at me across the table. “Made your choice?”
I smiled back. “Yes.”
Our waiter appeared beside us. “Are we ready for dinner?”
We both made our choices for the evening—prime rib for him, and red snapper for me.
After the waiter left, Tom grabbed his wine and raised it. “To new beginnings.”
My smile froze. I reached for my goblet but it stayed glued to the table.
Tom’s smile faded, and he lowered his glass. “Too soon?”
The charger plate seemed like a good place to rest my gaze. “It’s not that.” Finally, I met his eyes. “I just feel sad. But I also know, I need to get unstuck.”
He slid his hand across the table and opened it palm up. Tom had been a friendly presence since I’d separated from Levi.
That time Levi hadn’t shown up for Ashley’s birthday had been my breaking point, so when he finally came home, I asked him to move out. The focus of our separation was his relationship with the kids, especially Ashley. I was proud of him. He’d come a long way in eighteen months. It was time to work on me, to end the cycle of falling into hot sex with my estranged husband.
I looked at the man in front of me.
Tom was the perfect candidate.
We got along. He was good to my children. The fireworks weren’t the same as with Levi, but I treasured stability more than anything. Besides, I hadn’t given Tom a clear shot yet.
Earlier that evening when he picked me up from the house, looking amazingly attractive in a navy suit, a familiar zing fluttered low in my belly.
And when he kissed me lightly on the lips, it wasn’t … bad. It was something I could work with. “Move on” was a repeating mantra in my head, except “liar” kept echoing inside my skull at a louder volume.
Tom’s mouth tightened, making me feel guilty. I dodged his invitations for three months, but I finally succumbed to the last one. The thing was, it wasn’t even because of him, but something irritating my husband had said that became the catalyst.
“It’s fine.” He chuckled in self-deprecation. “But I don’t want to be your rebound man.”
“You’re not.” The first goal was to quit rebounding into my husband’s bed. “But I’m really sorry, Tom. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve been on a date in forever.”
I raised the glass to my lips to take a sip before I blabbered my misgivings about this dinner. My babysitters—Nana and Gramps—had been full of encouragement.
“I understand,” he said wryly, taking more than a sip of wine. “I consider this a victory after you’ve repeatedly turned me down.
Our appetizers appeared, so we shifted to less touchy conversation, namely the girls’ summer activities.
“So, they’re skipping camp this year?”
“Nana and Gramps are taking them to Disney World and Universal Studios. They’d cry if we sent them to camp.” Both girls hated outdoor activities when it had nothing to do with the characters they loved on television. Love for movies was in our genes.
“And Levi?”
“He still has his weekends with them.”
“But he’s been out of town for the past three weeks, right?”
“He gave me a heads up about it.” Sharpness entered my tone. One of the causes of the breakdown of our marriage was that Levi didn’t communicate enough when he took off for missions. It hadn’t always been that way.
I gave myself a mental shake. I also promised myself I’d give Tom my undivided attention.
“Sorry.” He exhaled a breath. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it. He kept doing it—”
“Let’s not talk about him or what happened in my marriage.”
“I witnessed enough of what did happen.”
“Tom,” I said. “Agreeing to go out with you doesn’t give you the right to criticize my hu—the father of my children.”
He winced. Even when I caught myself before I called Levi my husband, which technically he still was, he had caught the almost slip.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m making this awkward for you.”
If there was one thing Tom Roth was good at, it was the aw-shucks Southern farm boy persona. He forgot I knew him when he was a SEAL. He was as deadly as Levi. His current business was security installations on the West Coast which made his job more stable than my husband’s. Funny how I never considered this when Levi swept me off my feet at twenty-two and asked me to marry him. Having Whitney and Ashley changed my priorities.
I shrugged. “You can’t help yourself. You’ve been so much a part of my life. You’re not a stranger.”
