The Accidental Mistress by Sienna Mynx.pdf

The Accidental Mistress by Sienna Mynx

The Divas Pen LLC Publication

http://thedivaspen.com

Accidental Mistress

ISBN 9780983052388

Cover art by M. B. Wright

Electronic book publication January 2011

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part

by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, The Diva’s Pen LLC.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this

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not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s

rights is appreciated.

Special consideration and research has gone into the depiction of Martinique, however this remains a

work of a fiction, any names, places or persons were strictly a work of fiction and based on the author's

imagination. No infringement intended.

J'ai découvert le vrai bonheur le jour vous avez marché dans ma vie. -

I discovered true happiness the day you walked into my life .

Zuri Baptiste is in trouble. She’s lost her virginity to the man who is set to take over her

father’s business. How did such a thing happen? Years later, she's forced to answer that

question to the smooth debonair stranger who's responsible for the only reckless thing

Zuri has done in her life.

Christophe Montague is a very pragmatic man. But after a horrible breakup, he seeks to

forget comfort in the arms of a young woman. It works. For the next few years, he

channels his energies toward monetary success and not love. The Oasis, a now bankrupt

resort on the island of Martinique, is prime real-estate to acquire. To his surprise, he

encounters the young woman from his one nightstand. He soon falls into her web of lies,

deceit, and love.

Chapter One

Zuri's gaze switched from her half eaten filet to the sparkling city lights outside of the restaurant’s

window. The sky had darkened to a deep shade of violet, which had stained the moon pink as the sun

slipped away. It was a sky that reminded her of home.

She could see the wind in the sway of the leaves that extended from the planted trees along the

circular drive. A black limo with dark tinted windows, slowed to a stop before the valet’s booth. The

driver, tall with an immaculate appearance, emerged. His hand pressed down on his cap to keep it in

place, and his blazer blew open as he hurried around the front of the limo ahead of the valet. An even

taller man stepped out from the darkness of the open door.

Zuri's view, limited by the shadows covering most of his face, could only reveal the basic details.

Big in stature, with shoulders a yard wide, his dark grey trench opened and closed as he took confident

strides toward the restaurant’s doors.

He was possibly one of Chicago's elite. There were few surprises about the rich and famous dining

and mingling in the prestigious Gold Coast neighborhood. Besides, she'd seen her share of celebrities

growing up on the island resort owned by her father.

Tonight was special. Her parents had chosen a really nice French restaurant with velvet chairs and

pristine settings. The ambience was completed under candlelight over tables set with crisp linen. All of

this was for her. She should be enjoying herself. She wasn't.

Zuri picked up her fork and pushed her asparagus into a cross formation on her plate. She dreaded

the conversation that the evening was edging toward.

"Something wrong with your steak, ma chérie?" her mom asked.

Nanette Baptiste, her mother, was often told she looked as young as her daughters. She had married

young and in their island customs, that wasn't too surprising. It was unlike in America where women

aimed for college and much more. Petite in stature, Nanette’s distinctive feature, like Zuri was remarkably

large expressive eyes with distinctively long lashes. She blinked and men stopped, thinking she was a

flirt.

Claude Baptiste preferred she wore her hair long and flowing. Her mother usually pulled it back and

neatly pinned it into a chignon in public. But if you ever saw it freely flowing about her shoulders, you'd

be compelled to touch it. Her French, African, and East Indian heritage was evident in her speech and the

color of her toffee hued skin. Nanette was as gracious as she was kind, never raising her voice in anger

and never indulging in the island snobbery that was customary of women of her stature. Zuri loved her

mom dearly.

Zuri decided on a sip of wine rather than an answer. She forced a smile. Today was her twenty-first

birthday, and this was her very first official taste of alcohol.

"She's okay, mère ," Joi winked.

Nanette's motherly concern deepened the frown lines over her brow.

"I'm fine. Just not that hungry."

"That's because she misses your cooking. Hot and spicy lambi, blaff, court-bouillon filling your

belly , " Joi teased.

" How would you like conch, boiled fish with chives or in spicy tomato sauce, as opposed to the

Chicago treats of deep dish pizzas and polish dogs smothered in onions and sauerkraut? Nope, I like my

American food just fine."

Grinning, Joi, her younger sister by two years, bumped her knee with her own under the table. "Yea,

right. Then why did you have me sneak some boudin past customs for you? Answer me that!"

Her father chuckled, but her mother frowned at the impropriety of Zuri's request.

"Guess you got a point." Zuri flashed her mother a sheepish smirk.

Her gaze shifted to her sister's rare beauty. Despite the chill of the night, Joi wore a red halter dress

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