Prologue
My name is Jade and I'm pretty sure that you're not going to like me. In fact, I'd bet the rent on it, except that well . . . I don't pay rent, you see. Someone else does that for me.
His name is Hayden Barringer II.
Does that name ring a bell?
If you're from the East Coast it might, provided you shop for men's couture. Barringer's is the most exclusive carrier of men's fine clothing, with stores in New York City, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta New Orleans and Miami.
Hayden is the older of two sons, thus the Roman numeral two after his name. Hayden Barringer, the first, is now retired and living the good life in Miami with his wife and his millions.
With me so far?
Good.
Now, let's get to the part where you're going to judge me. And you very well might have legitimate reasons to do so.
Hayden is forty-four years old, rich, handsome and totally . . . married. He has three children, lives in the affluent Chestnut Hill section of Boston, and has an exquisite wife from another prominent New England family.
They attend every social event of the season, Christmas being an especially busy time of the year for those. Their children attend the very best private schools, where they receive academic accolades every semester. For all intents and purposes, the Barringer family is picture perfect.
With one exception--one dark, dirty little secret that is hidden from the public eye.
Me.
Jade Elizabeth Roberts, age thirty-one, former model and present mistress, lover, whore--whatever you wish to label me to Hayden Barringer II.
So, there it is for you to digest with the usual female emotions ranging from disgust to ambivalence, depending upon your own personal life experiences or internal judgments with this sort of thing.
Maybe you've even been in my shoes. (Hope they're Gucci or Jimmy Choo's because that's what Hayden keeps me in these days.) Or maybe you've been the poor, unsuspecting wife, in which case you probably don't want to read any further. In your opinion, I'm nothing short of a home wrecking, artist of seduction, and trashy tramp, right?
Wrong.
That's not how it happened, trust me, and also believe me when I say that it has very little to do with you. I mean, that's exactly what he's going to say to you if you ever discover me. 'It has nothing to do with you, or how I feel about you.'
And guess what?
That is the truth. Women don't see it that way, of course. They presume it is a reflection in some way of their failure to please him at home, in bed, or perhaps their physical and/or sexual attractiveness has diminished over the years.
All totally false.
The truth is that men cheat because they can. So, hate me if you must, but just remember, if it's not me, it will be someone else. And that someone else may not be as introspective, benevolent and altruistic as me.
Oh, I'm not trying to paint myself as some adult girl scout here; not at all. But the truth is that I don't want to wreck Hayden's marriage; I don't want to replace Emily (his wife). I am perfectly happy and content with his attention and generosity--for the most part that is.
At least I was until recently.
I've been feeling trapped and restless lately. I've developed a curiosity of how life might be without the bonds that Hayden has placed on me. Someone I haven't met has planted seeds of doubt in my mind, or maybe they've always been there waiting for me to acknowledge them.
Let's face it; holidays are a bummer for a lot of reasons. But each year for the past three, Hayden sends me on a trip for most of December and through the first week of January. He allows me to choose where I want to go. I think it eases his conscience a bit knowing that I'm not holed up and alone in my apartment.
Yes, I said conscience. Don't believe that old saying, "A dick has no conscience," because it's just not true.
Let me back up for a second. Hayden and I met a little over three years ago while I was doing a photo shoot for GQ magazine. The ad showed
My name is Jade and I'm pretty sure that you're not going to like me. In fact, I'd bet the rent on it, except that well . . . I don't pay rent, you see. Someone else does that for me.
His name is Hayden Barringer II.
Does that name ring a bell?
If you're from the East Coast it might, provided you shop for men's couture. Barringer's is the most exclusive carrier of men's fine clothing, with stores in New York City, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta New Orleans and Miami.
Hayden is the older of two sons, thus the Roman numeral two after his name. Hayden Barringer, the first, is now retired and living the good life in Miami with his wife and his millions.
With me so far?
Good.
Now, let's get to the part where you're going to judge me. And you very well might have legitimate reasons to do so.
Hayden is forty-four years old, rich, handsome and totally . . . married. He has three children, lives in the affluent Chestnut Hill section of Boston, and has an exquisite wife from another prominent New England family.
They attend every social event of the season, Christmas being an especially busy time of the year for those. Their children attend the very best private schools, where they receive academic accolades every semester. For all intents and purposes, the Barringer family is picture perfect.
With one exception--one dark, dirty little secret that is hidden from the public eye.
Me.
Jade Elizabeth Roberts, age thirty-one, former model and present mistress, lover, whore--whatever you wish to label me to Hayden Barringer II.
So, there it is for you to digest with the usual female emotions ranging from disgust to ambivalence, depending upon your own personal life experiences or internal judgments with this sort of thing.
Maybe you've even been in my shoes. (Hope they're Gucci or Jimmy Choo's because that's what Hayden keeps me in these days.) Or maybe you've been the poor, unsuspecting wife, in which case you probably don't want to read any further. In your opinion, I'm nothing short of a home wrecking, artist of seduction, and trashy tramp, right?
Wrong.
That's not how it happened, trust me, and also believe me when I say that it has very little to do with you. I mean, that's exactly what he's going to say to you if you ever discover me. 'It has nothing to do with you, or how I feel about you.'
And guess what?
That is the truth. Women don't see it that way, of course. They presume it is a reflection in some way of their failure to please him at home, in bed, or perhaps their physical and/or sexual attractiveness has diminished over the years.
All totally false.
The truth is that men cheat because they can. So, hate me if you must, but just remember, if it's not me, it will be someone else. And that someone else may not be as introspective, benevolent and altruistic as me.
Oh, I'm not trying to paint myself as some adult girl scout here; not at all. But the truth is that I don't want to wreck Hayden's marriage; I don't want to replace Emily (his wife). I am perfectly happy and content with his attention and generosity--for the most part that is.
At least I was until recently.
I've been feeling trapped and restless lately. I've developed a curiosity of how life might be without the bonds that Hayden has placed on me. Someone I haven't met has planted seeds of doubt in my mind, or maybe they've always been there waiting for me to acknowledge them.
Let's face it; holidays are a bummer for a lot of reasons. But each year for the past three, Hayden sends me on a trip for most of December and through the first week of January. He allows me to choose where I want to go. I think it eases his conscience a bit knowing that I'm not holed up and alone in my apartment.
Yes, I said conscience. Don't believe that old saying, "A dick has no conscience," because it's just not true.
Let me back up for a second. Hayden and I met a little over three years ago while I was doing a photo shoot for GQ magazine. The ad showed
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