The Real Boss Was His Neglected Wife

I was putting my signature on the invoice for the Gulfstream G650 when my husband snatched the boarding pass from the folder and handed it to his mistress.

"You're taking the commercial flight out of JFK," Jackson said, daring me to challenge him in front of his security detail. "Amber needs the privacy. She gets air sick."

I looked down at the crumpled ticket he had slid to me. Economy. Middle seat. Three layovers.

Then I looked at the sixty-million-dollar bird I had leased specifically so his crime family wouldn't get slaughtered on the highway by their rivals.