by Ella Miles
She grabs the hem of her black T-shirt, stretches it over her body, and then her breasts are staring back at me.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have called her when she was headed into the bathroom. I’m not going to be able to concentrate on pulling the truth from her when her body looks like that—smooth, curvy, and welcoming.
I close my eyes when I see her start on her jeans, but they only stayed closed less than a second. Then they are glued to the screen, watching her jeans slide to the floor, followed by her panties.
She’s standing naked in the bathroom with the phone still to her ear. “I hope your wife walks in and sees how hard I make you. I hope she slaps you and takes all of your money before she leaves your cheating ass.”
“I don’t cheat.”
“So you aren’t really married, then?”
A beat passes.
She smiles like she won again before she steps into the tub. Her body disappears under the water’s surface while resting her head against the tub’s edge.
I exhale—her spell on me breaks as she slips under the water, her body no longer as visible to me.
“We are going to continue our little game. You tell me the truth, and I give you more time to live. You tell me a lie, and I give you less time. I don’t care if we are here or back on the island. The battle continues until I pull every last truth from you, or you run out of time.”
She smirks, her seductive eyes glancing up, looking right at me. “What makes you think I’ll answer you? I’m not your captive anymore.”
“Because I’ll start hurting and killing people you care about. And I’ll automatically take a month off your time every time you don’t answer me. Your time will run out very quickly if you don’t start talking.”
She closes her eyes and leans her head back on the back of the edge of the tub. “What do you want to know?”
I was expecting more of a fight. Apparently, I’ve knocked all the fight out of her, at least for tonight.
“Tell me the truth of how you and Waylon met.”
She keeps her eyes closed, which makes it hard for me to read her expression or emotion. When she does finally speak, the tone of her voice is my only clue as to whether or not she’s telling the truth. Doing this from a distance is going to be difficult.
“A blind date,” she finally says.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read her.
Her eyes softly open. “We are both lawyers. We run in the same circles. We have mutual friends. Waylon was looking to settle down, for someone serious to help him build a long-lasting political career where he could make a difference. I was looking for a partner with power to keep me safe from men like you.”
I laugh at her comment about Waylon being able to protect her. I don’t even think Liesel believes that. Even if Waylon could keep her safe, she wouldn’t want that. She wants to control her own safety.
“You really think Waylon can protect you?”
“He has power—that’s as much protection as I can expect from a man.”
At least that’s the truth.
“What did you do on your first date?”
Liesel adjusts herself in the tub, and I get a glimmer of cleavage as she lifts slightly out of the water. My cock throbs at the sight.
“The usual drinks at a bar and then dinner at a nice Italian restaurant.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
She laughs as she sinks back into the water. “He ordered my drink and meal for me. What do you think?”
“I think you castrated him right then and there.” I smile just imagining what Liesel would do if a man tried to control her like that. But then how did she end up married to the ass?
“I ordered the most expensive champagne on the menu, and then I threw it at him.”
“Not scotch?”
She scoffs. “Would I ever waste scotch?”
My smile grows to my eyes. I haven’t smiled this big in a long time. It almost feels like we are kids teasing each other again—almost.
“No, I don’t imagine you ever would.”
Liesel smiles so openly I can see every one of her white teeth. It makes me almost not want to ask her my next question, but I need to know.
“What happened next? How did you end up on a second date if the first date ended in such a disaster?”
Her smile immediately drops from her face, almost as if it was never there in the first place. She takes her time before she speaks, the movie of those events flashing before her eyes.
She’s trying to decide if she tells me the truth or if she tells me a lie.
“You lose two weeks from your life if you lie,” I warn.
“I was at a bar. A man sat down next to me and started up a conversation with me,” her voice is soft, and her bottom lip trembles as she speaks.
I hate this man, whoever he is instantly.
“The man seemed nice enough. He was a typical suit—nicely groomed, a banker with warm eyes. He was charming, and I was lonely and frustrated with my lack of a sex life, so we got a hotel room.”
Jesus, so many awful things happen to this woman. It’s like she’s a magnet for evil men.
“In the elevator on the way up, I started to get some bad vibes from him. I made a phone call and said I had to go…”
Her voice trails off as she looks down at her hands like she’s embarrassed.
“He was in the wrong, not you,” I say, trying to make her feel better before I realize that’s not my job.
The corner of her mouth lifts in gratitude for my words. “He forced me into the hotel room. Ripped my clothes. Tried to rape me.”
“Tried?” My heart stops.
“The call was to Waylon. He was the only person I could think of who might be close. He was an asshole, but I didn’t get the same vibes from Waylon as I did from Frank.”
“He rescued you?”
“Sort of. I was able to knee him in the balls and break free.”
I smile, knowing I was the one who taught her that move.
“Waylon was in the lobby by the time I made it down. He called the police. We went and got some greasy burger and fries from a dive next door. He made me laugh. He tried to protect me.”
She gave Waylon a second chance. Why could she never give me one?
I sigh.
“How did you and Phoenix meet?” Liesel asks.
“I picked her up at a club. She was the only woman, not on the dance floor, trying to get my attention.”
She smiles again, happy that I’m talking.
“I fucked her in the dirty bathroom. It was the hottest sex of my life. Nine months later, she had our first child.”
Liesel’s smile snaps off her face, replaced by a scowl. “Liar.”
I hear the hope in her voice. She doesn’t truly believe I’m lying, she just hopes I am. Whether she will ever admit it or not, she wants me. It hurts her to hear that I’m with another woman, especially one related to her.
I don’t care if she believes me or not. What I care about is figuring out if she’s lying. I don’t think she is, but I also don’t think she’s telling the full truth.
“Do you trust Waylon?”
“Not going to ask if I love him?”
“I don’t care if you love him or not,” I lie. “I care if you trust him.”
“He’s my husband.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’ve already answered my question for tonight,” she says, dodging the question.
Interesting.
“Last chance to tell me why, Liesel. I’m done asking. This is your last chance to save your life. Just give me one good reason for what you did and this can all be over. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. You’ll never hear from me or see me again. Just tell me why,” I say.
I’m so completely desperate. I need this answer more than I need anything else. I would trade all of her truths for this one single bit of information. I’ll give her up; I just need to know why. I need to kno
w why she did the cruelest thing that anyone in our group has ever done. We all work for a criminal organization; we’ve done some fucked up shit, but nothing like what Liesel did.
“Why?” I repeat.
She blinks; it’s the only clue I have that she even heard me. She looks right at me, finding the camera. “I have no clue what you are talking about. Maybe if you’d ask me an actual question, I would answer you.”
I run my hand through my hair in frustration. I need to know, but her refusing means I get to keep her. I get to kill her for her sins once I get all my answers. And I still plan on getting this answer from her, no matter how long it takes.
“Ten months,” I say, letting her know how much time she has left, and then I end the call.
7
Liesel
I should be listening to Waylon’s speech, but all I can think about are Langston’s words last night.
I’ve done a lot of horrible things in my life, but I have no clue which specific monstrous thing I did that Langston wants me to explain.
“With my beautiful, intelligent Liesel by my side, we will win the race for governor!” Waylon finishes his speech.
I smile brightly as he lifts my hand up, doing my part. I didn’t have a speech to give today, but I will at future events.
I’m glad we’ve started the campaign in earnest. Waylon thinks it will stop us from being attacked with the amount of visible security he hired, but it will only slow Langston’s kidnapping attempts.
Hand in hand we walk off stage, waving to the crowd and smiling so wide that my cheeks begin to hurt.
As soon as we are off stage, Waylon is swarmed by his team of people.
“I need you to look over the prenup and sign it ASAP,” Nolan, his campaign manager, says to me as he thrusts some papers into my hands.
I sigh but take the papers.
Nolan is closer to my age than Waylon’s. I have never seen the man not in a suit. His blonde hair swooshes over his head in a perfect wave, and his blue eyes pop with brilliance.
I haven’t decided yet if I trust him or not.
“I already told you, the prenup isn’t the problem,” I say as I make a show of signing the damn prenup.
“You should have a big, extravagant wedding. It will bring in lots of donors and make a big splash.”
“We’ve always discussed having a small court wedding and not making a big fuss. That way, we can show that Waylon cares about the important things. Downplay how much money he has and show that he works for the people.” Also, if we have a big, splashy wedding, there is no way for me to hide it from Langston.
“Just make sure you’re free three weekends from now.” Nolan walks away in a huff.
I flip his back off.
I’m tired of men running my life. Waylon and I will decide when and where and how we have a wedding.
Waylon is busy talking with Nolan. I glance at the clock on my phone as I yawn. I didn’t get any sleep last night.
I need some caffeine to wake me up.
I search for cafes on my phone and see a coffee shop across the street.
“Maxwell, I’m headed over to get a cup of coffee while they finish up here. You coming?” I say to the brute man in an all-black outfit. This man has nothing on Zeke, who is basically a giant, so a man like Maxwell doesn’t intimidate me.
“Yes, Mrs. Brown. Wherever you go, I go.”
“It’s Ms. Dunn.”
Maxwell frowns as he walks next to me out of the event hall.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dunn. Nolan told me to start calling you Mrs. Brown so I wouldn’t slip up when you get married, since it’s happening so quickly. He said I might as well start calling you Mrs. Brown.”
“I won’t be changing my name even after we’re married, so please call me Ms. Dunn. Or better yet, Liesel.”
Maxwell stops in his tracks. “Do Mr. Brown and Nolan know about your plans? I don’t think you keeping your own name will help the campaign.”
“Don’t worry about the campaign, Maxwell. Just worry about keeping me safe. As long as you do that, Waylon and Nolan won’t have anything to complain about.”
I jog across the street rather than wait at the crosswalk, forcing Maxwell to choose between almost getting hit by traffic or waiting on the sidewalk. It’s a test.
He passes.
He puts his hand on the hood of a car slamming on its breaks to avoid hitting us.
I open the door to the coffee shop, and Maxwell grabs it to hold it open for me.
“No more running into danger. If I’m going to protect you, I need you to tell me your plans. I don’t need you to make my job any harder than it already is.”
I smirk. “That was a test. I don’t usually run into danger.”
His shoulders relax.
“But danger does usually find me.”
And then I walk to the counter.
“Can I get a large coffee, black?”
The woman smiles at me. “That will be $3.”
I hand her my credit card from my sleek white purse that pops against my navy pencil skirt and jacket.
She swipes the card a few times. “I’m sorry, but your card keeps getting declined. Do you have another one?”
I frown as I pull out another card and hand it to her. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, this one isn’t working either.”
I take the card back. I have two more cards we could try, but I suspect the same thing will happen. A line has formed behind us, and I don’t have any cash.
I look to Maxwell behind me, who pulls out a ten-dollar bill and hands it to the barista.
“Keep the change,” he tells her.
I walk to the other counter to wait for my drink.
“Something wrong with your card? I can tell Nolan to have the credit card company to send you a new one.”
“No, that’s okay. I can call myself.”
Maxwell nods.
“Mind taking me to the bank?” I ask, suspecting this might be more than just a credit card issue.
“Of course.”
$0.00
That’s what my bank account reads.
Zero.
I haven’t had an empty bank account since high school. My credit cards all have a $0 credit limit too.
I had millions saved. Millions I earned by starting my own law firm, by winning lawsuit after lawsuit.
I struggled my way through poverty, became friends with the richest boy in all of Miami, studied my ass off in college, and fought through a male-dominated world until I made my way to the top. I did all of that while wrestling with a dark past that haunts my every waking moment. I did all of that with unbearable pain. I did all of that after starting over and moving my entire life to New York.
I earned every cent, and now it’s all gone.
I don’t have to do any investigating to know who stole my money—Langston.
Waylon has no need for my money. I just signed the prenup. He has no right to my money any more than I have a right to his. The only money of his I can access are campaign reimbursements. We don’t even plan on sharing a residence once we are married. I’ll keep my apartment, and he’ll keep his.
Now, I have no idea how I’m going to pay for my apartment. I can’t even afford a coffee, let alone the thousands of dollars in monthly rent for my apartment.
Maxwell drives me back to my apartment as I think through my options. I refuse to rely on a man. I refuse to put myself in more debt. I won’t ask Waylon for help financially. I don’t even know how I’d explain to him what happened to my money in the first place.
“You okay?” Maxwell asks, raising an eyebrow in the rearview mirror as he drives.
“It was just a mixup at the bank. They recognized some fraudulent charges on my credit cards, so they canceled them. It’s all sorted out now. I’m just tired.”
Maxwell nods.
“Please don’t mention any of this to Waylon. I don’t want to worry him with something
so little when he has so much going on.”
I’m not sure who Maxwell is loyal to—me or Waylon. Technically, Waylon pays his salary, but I’m the one who gives Maxwell orders. Waylon made sure that Maxwell knew his job is to protect me and follow my orders no matter what. It will be an interesting test of his loyalty.
“Of course, Liesel.”
He stops the car outside my building and then steps out, opening the door for me after handing the valet the keys.
I don’t really need him to walk me to my door, but he won’t leave me alone until I’m safely inside my apartment. I let him walk with me up into my building and up the elevator.
Once we reach my door, I expect him to come inside and search the apartment before I enter. That’s what Langston would do.
“Do you need anything else, Liesel?” Maxwell stands to the side of the door as I insert the key.
I smile. “I’m good. Thanks, Max.”
He grins at the nickname. “I’ll be in the apartment down the hallway monitoring your door. If you need anything, just text. Otherwise, have a good night.”
I walk inside and shut and lock the door behind me.
Maxwell is sweet enough. He’s a decent bodyguard who I think I can trust, but he’s no match for Langston or anyone who works for the Black empire.
It’s an illusion of safety.
Maxwell said that he’d be monitoring the hallway, which should make it tough for me to leave without him noticing.
But he isn’t the only one watching me.
I walk into the apartment, making it seem like I’m going to bed. I pull out my phone and do a quick search of surrounding hotels until I find the one Langston is staying at. It’s the most expensive and closest. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s there.
“I assume you draining my money was because you wanted to talk to me and calling me on the phone wouldn’t work.”
I stare up at the camera in my bedroom, talking directly to Langston.
“Meet me in the hotel bar in fifteen minutes.”
I walk into the bathroom to change out of the professional-looking jacket and skirt and into something that will work to my advantage. I take my time changing into a tight black dress with lace at the hem and the neckline. I apply a dark line of eyeliner, sweep a darker shade of eyeshadow across my lids, and then pull a scarlet red lipstick out to paint my lips.
