Desperate Lies

by Ella Miles

  I strut out of the bathroom and fluff my hair as my eyes meet the corner of the bedroom again.

  “Make me disappear,” I whisper. Then I walk out of my apartment, knowing Langston will ensure that Maxwell thinks I’m still safely inside my apartment.

  8

  Langston

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.

  Liesel struts into the hotel bar exactly fifteen minutes after speaking at me via the security camera in her apartment.

  Her dress screams sex. It’s black with lace and fits her like a second layer of skin. Her eyes are a darker shade than she usually wears, making her irises pop. Her red lipstick taunts me. As much as I want her lips pressed against mine, or better yet wrapped around my cock, that won’t be happening. Liesel is far too pissed to let me touch her.

  Even though I’m bigger, stronger, more skilled—the look in her eyes lets me know that right now, she’d win in a fight. I have to tread carefully with her.

  She walks straight to the bar and sits down in the barstool next to me, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “You found me. I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you still had it in you, huntress.”

  She growls. “I’ve always been the better hunter. I know you know I found you that day in your hotel room. You were hiding in the damn ceiling. The only reason I didn’t climb up there and yank you out was that I came up with a better plan.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say when she finishes ranting.

  She turns to face me with red eyes and flushed cheeks. “You’re welcome? Are you serious? You have ruined my life more times than I can count.”

  I grin. Good, I need to ruin every aspect of her life. I need every tiny thing of hers I can get my hands on before I eventually kill her. I need that to live with what she did.

  “You’re welcome that I ensured Maxwell didn’t see you leave. You don’t have to worry about what to tell him.”

  She flags down the bartender with her finger. “What can I get you?” the bartender with a trimmed gray beard and piercing blue eyes asks.

  “Your most expensive scotch, and put it on his tab.”

  He nods at her with a smile and then goes to make her drink.

  She ordered the exact same thing I already ordered myself.

  One minute later, he slides two glasses of scotch neat in front of us.

  “Thank you,” Liesel smiles at him as she takes her drink, purposefully letting her hand slide against his.

  He winks back, and I suspect he’ll leave his number with her by the end of the night.

  “So, you like the older types?” I ask.

  Liesel rolls her eyes and takes a drink. “I didn’t come here so we can talk about the kind of men I find attractive. I came here to tell you to stop stealing from me.” Her voice drops in revenge and pent up frustration. Her fingers tighten around the glass as her rage with me consumes her.

  “Did I steal something?” I lean back in my chair, keeping my eyes on hers instead of letting myself explore every inch of her body. I have to have discipline. I have to focus on my mission.

  “Don’t play dumb. You stole every penny I had.”

  I purse my lips. “Oh, right. I did do that. But I wouldn’t call it stealing.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “I’d call it taking what I’m owed.”

  “You’re a self-serving demon. What gives you the right to take anything from me?”

  You have no idea just how much of a right I have to that money, huntress.

  “You seemed to lack motivation. Taking days, months, years of your life from you wasn’t working, so I took the one thing that every human responds to—money.”

  “You think by taking my money, I’ll be forced to tell you the truth? I think you’ve forgotten everything I’ve gone through. How poor I used to be. How much of a survivor I am. I built everything I have from nothing, and I can do it again.”

  “Or you can marry that rich fiancé of yours.”

  “Husband,” she says firmly.

  I pull out my phone and open my browser to the announcement before sliding the phone on the oak counter in front of her.

  “Liar,” I whisper, cutting through the noisy bar with the single word.

  Liesel freezes as she realizes she’s caught in a lie.

  “That little liar,” she says.

  “That would be you.”

  She slides the phone back across the bar, her frustration apparent.

  My reflexes kick in, and I catch my phone before it slides off the bar.

  She’s glaring at the phone, not at me. I’m completely lost.

  “Who’s the liar?” I ask.

  “No one.”

  “The correct answer is you—you’re the liar.”

  “Fine, I lied, but so did you.”

  “I’m not the one caught in a lie. And I’m not the one who has to tell the truth in order to live—that would be you.”

  “Just kill me and get it over with. I’m tired of your damn games. Nothing you do will make me tell you the truth. I will go to my grave hiding my half of the letter.”

  “Well, you have six months left to decide.”

  “Six months? You took off four months for one little lie?”

  “One big lie.”

  She downs the rest of her drink, and that’s when I know that I’m getting to her. It bothers her that I’m willing to kill her.

  “Whatever,” she says. She pulls her own phone out and starts scrolling through news articles about her engagement announcement in frustration. It’s then that I realize she hadn’t agreed to the announcement. Waylon did this without her consent.

  I suspected all along that Waylon isn’t a good person. There is something he’s hiding. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll figure it out long before Liesel does. I may want her dead, but I want to be the one to inflict pain. I don’t want Waylon to beat me to it.

  “I wouldn’t trust Waylon if I were you.”

  “I trust him more than I trust you.”

  “He didn’t even have your agreement before announcing your engagement. Sounds pretty untrustworthy to me.”

  “At least he hasn’t threatened to kill me. He doesn’t try to control me, unlike you.”

  I lean in close, getting a whiff of her sweet perfume. It’s intoxicating, but I won’t let it affect me.

  “But does he love you?”

  Her eyes narrow, her pulse races, her body stills. “He loves me more than you will ever love anyone.”

  “Maybe so, but I wouldn’t call that love. He’s just as controlling as I am. He announced your wedding without you. He made you sign a prenup. And you can’t even tell him about me. It doesn’t sound like true love to me.”

  “The announcement wasn’t him—it was Nolan, his campaign manager. I had just as much money to lose as him. I don’t want a man to take care of me. I want to take care of my own damn self. And not telling Waylon about you is to protect him, not because I can’t.

  “Waylon and I may not be head over heels in love, but our union will outlive the best marriages because we know what we are getting into. Our marriage doesn’t rely on falling in and out of love. Our marriage relies on mutual respect and understanding.”

  I chuckle. “You don’t even know who Waylon is.”

  Now it’s her turn to lean toward me.

  I hold still and try not to breathe, so I don’t inhale her scent again. I can’t help myself anymore, though, so I take a deep, unsettling breath.

  “I know exactly who Waylon is. Just like I know who you are. I’ll take my chances with Waylon.”

  “You don’t have a clue who I am anymore. You haven’t cared about my life in years.”

  “I know you. You’re a liar, just like me.”

  I grin and feel her eyes on my dimples that drive her mad. “You don’t have any proof of my lies, do you? You have no idea if I’m married with kids or not.”

  She smirks and moves her hand to mine, until she’s
stroking the inside of my wrist. Her eyes tilt down to my crotch.

  “I don’t know if you are legally married or not. I don’t know if you’ve sired a string of bastards that are genetically related to you. What I do know is that you want me. One touch and your cock is as hard as steel. One kiss and I’m all you can think about. It doesn’t matter if you’re lying or not—you want me.”

  I remove my hand from her grasp. “I want you dead.”

  Her eyes dart back and forth. “I’m pretty sure that’s a lie too.”

  “Pretty sure? That’s a weak statement to bet your life on.”

  She stands. “My entire life has been a series of bets on my life. Somehow I’ve survived them all. I can survive you.”

  “Maybe. But right now, you have a lot less money to fight me with unless you plan on asking Waylon for help.”

  “I won’t be asking any man for help. I’ve built a small empire before. My only mistake was not ensuring it was better guarded. I won’t let that happen again.”

  “Tomorrow, I want answers. Real answers, not lies, or I’ll steal more from you until you have nothing left.”

  She whips her hair over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll just have to steal right back from you. I hope you aren’t lying. I hope you are really married with kids. Because I will destroy them all. If you have a heart to break, I’ll shatter it. This is war, killer.”

  She pauses. “And unlike you, I won’t wait six months to kill you. The first chance I get, you’re a dead man.”

  I smile. “You can’t kill me, and you don’t have any money to hire someone skilled enough to lay a finger on me.”

  Her smile is bigger than mine, which scares me. “I’ll have more money than you can imagine soon enough.”

  With those parting words, she leaves.

  Not five seconds after she leaves, I see a man I didn’t expect to see here—Maxwell.

  I frown; maybe he’s more skilled than I thought.

  9

  Liesel

  I have a plan.

  Langston declared war. He has no idea why I’m with Waylon. He has no clue about all of the struggles I’ve been through to get the money he so easily stole from my bank account. He has no idea what I will do to continue to survive.

  Six months—that was the death sentence Langston gave me. I don’t give a damn about the time. Not anymore. But I do care about finding the truth.

  Langston just sparked a fire in me.

  This is war.

  That was his goal in taking all of my money. He wanted to make me desperate. He wanted to make me beg him or Waylon for help. Dependent—that’s the one thing I vowed I’d never be again. I’ll do anything to protect myself before letting a man take care of me again.

  Now, I want the truth, too. I want every damn secret Langston is keeping from me, and I want to use every single word against him. I want to drown him in his lies. I want to tear apart his family, his life.

  I want everything from him.

  But most of all—I want to know why Langston hates me. Why he started this war. Why?

  I’m missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, and I’m tired of being left in the dark.

  I’m a powerful woman. All the shit I’ve been through has made me invincible to pain. I no longer have fear. I no longer cry. That makes me stronger than Langston’s weak ass.

  He still cries. He can still feel pain. I’m stronger than him.

  I have a plan.

  First, I need an unlimited source of money.

  Then, I’ll lay my trap.

  I know exactly where I’m getting the money. Thank god I signed the prenup already.

  “Good morning,” Waylon says as he enters my kitchen in his suit, already dressed to head into the office.

  “Good morning,” I say as I hold my cup of coffee and stand at the counter.

  Waylon comes over and kisses me softly on the cheek. Then he heads to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup in a travel mug.

  “What do you have planned for today? Headed into the office?” he asks as he secures his coffee lid.

  “No, the office is running smoothly, but I thought I’d get away for the weekend.”

  Waylon freezes. He knows what that’s code for. We have an agreement, he and I. I have needs he can’t satisfy and vice versa.

  He can fuck whoever he wants. I can do whatever I want. We live separate lives when we need to. Our future marriage is about mutual gain. It’s about helping each other with our careers, our image, our lives. And it’s about having a steady fuck in each other’s bed. It’s not real love, but it works for us. It’s a modern relationship that doesn’t hide the fact that one single person can’t possibly fulfill every single one of our needs.

  It’s been a while since I tested the arrangement, though. Before, it was just a verbal agreement. Now that we are getting married—it’s a legal contract in our prenup.

  “You’ll take Maxwell with you. That isn’t an option.”

  I nod. “I agreed to security. You should have the guys over this weekend to keep you company while I’m away.” That’s my way of saying he should invite a whore over to fuck since I won’t be here.

  Waylon walks over to me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now that I’m running for governor, I shouldn’t be seen doing such things.”

  His eyes bore into mine, letting me know that if I get caught, there will be consequences.

  “Understood.” I nod back.

  “You have to tell Nolan, though.” He steps back, leaning against the counter across from me.

  “No way, you hired him. I’m not telling Nolan.”

  “He’s my campaign manager. He needs to know your whereabouts in order to protect the campaign from any misunderstandings that may happen.”

  I glare at Waylon. “I signed an agreement with you. There is nothing in it that says I have to be the one to arrange things with your employee. You deal with him.”

  Waylon grins. “There is the woman I love. You know how much I enjoy your fiery spirit.”

  “I’ll see you Monday. Take me out to dinner before the campaign event on Tuesday.”

  “I have the perfect place.”

  We exchange words back and forth with our eyes. Promises. Threats. Arrangements.

  Our entire conversation is in code. Langston won’t know what we are talking about. And he definitely won’t know what we aren’t saying with our eyes and bodies.

  But we know.

  I nod.

  Then, Waylon comes over and kisses me on my forehead. “I look forward to our dinner.”

  I swallow hard, before forcing my body to breathe.

  I’m doing this to keep control, to earn unlimited amounts of money. Waylon may not be perfect, but he’s not the devil. That label belongs to Langston.

  There is a knock at the door. Waylon heads to the door and answers it.

  “Come in, Maxwell. Liesel is almost ready. It seems you will be headed on a nice weekend trip.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And let me remind you if anything happens to Liesel or if her identity gets out, it will be you whom I take my wrath out on.”

  “Understood, Mr. Brown.”

  Waylon looks back and winks at me before he heads out to work.

  “Where are we going?” Maxwell asks me as he enters my kitchen.

  “Straight to hell.”

  I pull my silver mask down over my face as Maxwell parks the car in front of Pier 40 at Hudson River Park.

  “You sure about this, Liesel?” Maxwell asks with uncertainty in his voice.

  I take a deep breath as I stare at the yacht tied to the pier. I hate the damn ocean. It reminds me too much of my past. Langston will always have the advantage on the water, but this weekend is about earning back power. And the only way to truly have power is with money. Once I have money, I’ll be back on equal footing with Langston.

  “Yes,” I answer, stepping out of the car.

  Maxwell steps out as well with his ow
n mask on. He’s in a tux, and a black mask covers his sculpted face, but it doesn’t make him any less intimidating. He extends his arm to me, so we look like a couple as we walk up the ramp to the yacht.

  I’m wearing a long dark wig to cover my blonde. That, combined with the mask and my bare ring finger, will mean no one will have a clue who I am here. That is unless Langston decides to make an appearance. I could wear a full prosthetic, don a wig, disguise my voice, and he’d still know it was me. Our connection is too intense for him to not recognize when I’m in the same city, let alone the same yacht as him.

  “Nervous?” Maxwell asks as we walk up the ramp.

  I nod. I’m nervous, but not for the reasons Maxwell thinks. I’m not nervous about what I plan on doing tonight or about getting caught. I’m nervous to see Langston tonight and what that could possibly mean.

  “Don’t be. My only job is to protect you and your identity. I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t let any man hurt you or even lay a finger on you unless you want them to.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a weak smile. I truly think Maxwell might be the only good person in all of this, but he’s no match for Langston. If Langston wants to hurt me, Maxwell won’t be able to stop him.

  “I could protect you better if you told me your plan,” Maxwell says.

  My smile drops. “Sorry, Max, but I have to keep my intentions to myself.”

  “But Mr. Brown knows?”

  My eyes cut to Maxwell as we reach the top of the ramp.

  “Miss…?” A man on the yacht with a tablet asks as I approach.

  “Ms. Juliane White,” I say, giving a fake name.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. White. And you are?” The man turns to Maxwell.

  “Mr. Maxwell,” he gives me a confused glance out of the corner of his eye but goes with the flow. He doesn’t know what tonight is about or what kind of yacht we just boarded. He doesn’t know that he’s going to have to earn his keep this weekend when some of the most powerful and dangerous men on the planet will all be gathered on this yacht.