I Learned To Be A Mistress, Not A Wife

My mother had survived on one skill her entire life: imitation. She copied whoever was popular and whoever was most adored. If a woman knew how to wrap a man around her finger, Mom could break down her technique to its core and practice until she did it even better than the original. Even the famously intimidating property manager in our neighborhood only had to scold someone twice before Mom could reproduce her act almost perfectly. That talent took her from nightclub dancer to the mistress of a publicly traded company's CEO—and landed her an apartment along the way. I was her daughter, known in certain circles as her "little prodigy". From the moment I could walk, I followed her around, learning how to pout, play sweet, and make a man feel happy about opening his wallet. The day I was sent away, she patted my hand with an expression that said, "I've passed on everything I know." She added, "Once you get to the Whitaker residence, do exactly what I taught you. Learn fast, and no man will ever get away." I couldn't have agreed more. Given where I came from, how else could I possibly get close to a man like Gideon Whitaker unless I became his kept woman? But before I could even start seducing him after being delivered to his bed, he left me completely dumbfounded. He slapped a ring of keys and a black credit card down in front of me. "You're my wife. From now on, every decision in this household is yours to make." I looked down at the keys, then at the card. No spending limit. I nearly dropped to my knees on the spot. Hold on... I only learned how to be a kept woman. Nobody taught me how to be a proper wife! This wasn't how the story was supposed to go at all! ***** "Mr. Whitaker, what do you think? Do I look good?" Biting my lip, I showed my carefully chosen battle dress—a champagne silk slip dress—from beneath my trench coat, then struck the angle I'd spent 3 months perfecting. Mom always said no matter how respectable a man looked, deep down, he had desires. That move had once taken her straight from D-list model to homeowner in an exclusive neighborhood. But Gideon only glanced at me before reaching over and pulling my trench coat closed again. "Cover yourself." My mind went blank. That couldn't be right. Mom had used this exact move to drive my father wild with desire. So why wasn't Gideon reacting at all? I decided he simply wasn't into this tactic. Refusing to give up, I leaned closer and pitched my voice into the sugary purr Mom had taught me. "You don't like me dressed this way, Mr. Whitaker...? Then what do you like?" Gideon pressed his phone against my shoulder to keep me from coming any closer. "Bridget, I'm not keeping you as my mistress." The words thundered in my ears. "You're not? Then what is this?" "Marriage." He looked at me as though I'd just arrived from another planet. "We'll register it tomorrow. It's too late today." I froze. "Marriage? To me?" "Yes. Didn't your father tell you?" Gideon's brow furrowed slightly. "He sent you here to marry into my family. This is a marriage alliance between two families, not a sale." My thoughts raced. Wait. The Nolan family had packaged me up and sent me over under the contract Strategic Partnership Between the Whitaker and Nolan Families. I'd always assumed I was the welcome gift! It wasn't my fault. I was my father's illegitimate daughter. Anyone in my position would've assumed she was being sent here as a kept woman. Mom had spent more than 10 years teaching me how to be a mistress—how to seduce a man, act sweet, whisper in his ear, and pick out the perfect target. Nobody had ever taught me how to be the legitimate wife! My fingers trembled. "Mr. Whitaker, why don't you think it over? Maybe your family made a mistake. Is there any chance you could send this order back?" Gideon's face darkened. Just as I was considering how to politely yet gracefully turn him down, a voice as soft as honey came from the doorway. "Gideon, I brought you something for your hangover." The door opened, and a young woman in a white dress walked in carrying a bowl of soup. The instant she saw my clothes in disarray, her eyes reddened.