by Amy Brent
Funny, it was doing that a lot these days.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey there, Olivia. I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”
“Hey, Wes. How are you doing?”
“Honestly? Worried about you. You’ve been running out on me a lot lately, and I figured I might have chased you off for good.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Nothing like that. Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“Would you like to talk about it? Maybe at my place tonight?”
I closed my eyes before a smile crawled across my cheeks. I knew if I went tonight, no work would be done. I could fool myself into thinking I’d snoop around. I could fool myself into thinking I’d ask sneaky little questions to pull more information from him.
But this time, I simply wanted to sit in his presence.
“Are you free in the next half hour?” I asked.
“I am. Would you like to come over in the next half hour?”
“I’ll see you soon, Wes.”
“I can’t wait to see you, Olive.”
Chapter 21
Wesley
After my talk with Chad, I decided to take him up on his advice. I wouldn’t call her until Saturday afternoon, and maybe we could sit down and talk. In the meantime, I decided I would look over the paperwork she’d given me. After all, there was still a business deal on the table and money I was looking to pocket sometime next week. I was ready to be rid of that property as well as this professional wall that sat between the two of us.
But when my eyes graced back over the name of the lawyer, I realized why the name jumped out at me.
Nelson Wainwright was the lawyer I’d used on several occasions for my own cons.
I sat back in my chair as my mind began to spin. The stuttered answers. The hesitant glances in my direction. The scurrying off Olivia had been doing. All the red flags I usually looked for in women were now starting to flood to the forefront of my memory, and I cursed myself for being so stupid.
Olivia was pulling something over on me, and I’d allowed her to do it.
I read through the contract over and over again before taking to my computer. I looked up Nelson Wainwright and placed a strategic call to his secretary. I asked a few pointed questions about things the lawyer could help me with, and one of the questions was whether or not Wainwright had connections with someone in the city named Olivia Hart.
“Ah, heard her name around the block a few times, huh?” the secretary asked. “He frequently partners up with her. She’s the premier private investigator in the city. Are you in need of some sort of assistance?”
Private investigator? Olivia?
My Olivia?
“Thank you for your time,” I said before I hung up the phone.
Olivia hadn’t only pulled the wool over my eyes, she was investigating me. I thought back to the last woman I conned and the credit cards I took from her wallet. I thought about the money still sitting in a safe in my kitchen pantry, and my blood began to boil. Olivia had conned me. Seduced me. Wrapped me around her little finger by using that tight little pussy of hers to pull me in. I slammed my phone down on my table, raking my hands through my hair, and then Chad’s words tumbled back into my mind.
I would call her this afternoon to see if she wanted to talk.
I was shocked when she answered the phone, and even more shocked when she said she would come over. I went and got a bottle of dark red wine and popped it open, precisely for the occasion. Blood red wine was used in transactions like these. Transactions that required blunt force truth before someone got their heart broken. I poured the bottle into a decanter to aerate it before I pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet. Then, I took everything over to the table to wait.
Twenty-five minutes later, I watched Olivia’s car pull into the driveway. I took the paperwork and placed it in the middle of the table and then beckoned Olivia to come through the sliding door when she knocked.
“Hey there, Wes,” she said, smiling.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked.
“I’d love—”
She came around the corner and caught my icy stare before her eyes panned down to the paperwork. In a large red marker, I’d circled Nelson Wainwright’s name. I watched the confusion roll behind her eyes before I ushered her to sit down. Then, I took a sip from my wine glass and waited. I wanted to see if she would come clean. I wanted to see if I could back her into a corner. I wanted to see if she would be the first to speak.
The first to admit. The first to grovel.
“I have a confession to make,” I said when Olivia didn’t begin.
“All right,” she said, grabbing her wine glass.
“I’m a con artist.”
Olivia spat her wine back into her glass before she set it back onto the table. My eyes hooked heavily onto her as she wiped at her chin, then I slid her a napkin so she could clean herself up. When her eyes rose back to mine, I watched the entire wall come crashing down. This was never about emotion or professionalism or unabashed desires she didn’t want to admit to.
No, the wall was because she was running her own con, and I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner.
“What?” Olivia asked.
“I’m a con artist,” I repeated. “I’ve conned women into falling in love with me, and sometimes, I’ve taken things that aren’t mine. I’m not proud of it, but I did what I had to do until I was making enough at the bar to fend for myself.”
“Is that what you told yourself when you were gallivanting through Texas and Alabama as well?” she asked.
“So, it’s true,” I said. “You’re a private investigator.”
“You know Nelson Wainwright,” she said.
“Not particularly. I’ve used his services on a couple of occasions with women I’ve backed myself into a corner with, and he’s been particularly helpful. One strategic call to his wife with a well-placed question and she was more than willing to tell me what you actually did for a living.”
“I partner myself with Wainwright frequently, yes. Now, are you willing to listen?”
“I don’t give a shit what you have to say,” I said. “You conned me.”
“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” she asked. “The name Destiny Smart ring a bell?”
“Why would it?”
“Because that’s the woman you recently conned, even though you seem to make enough at the bar to hold your own,” she said.
“That’s why you’re investigating me?” I asked. “Because she hired you?”
“Yes. She called me up crying and told me she’d been duped by some hottie with a nice body and steely gray eyes. No money in her wallet and all her credit cards were maxed out. Ring a bell?”
“Vaguely.” My hands clenched in my lap. How the hell could I have missed this? How the fuck did Olivia pull the wool over my eyes like this?
“I can’t fucking believe you conned me,” I said.
“Wesley, look at me,” she said.
“Not a fat chance in hell, Olivia.”
“Wesley, I’m sorry.”
The tone of her voice prompted my eyes to pan over to hers. Gone was the cold look of the private detective, and in its place, was the vulnerable Olivia I knew from high school. Her eyes were begging me to listen. Pleading and calling out to me, and I had to admit that part of me was curious. I wanted to know what she had to say. I wanted to know how she would defend herself.
And I allowed myself the opportunity to listen, if only to make sure this shit never happened to me again.
“I’m sorry, Wesley,” she said. “When I approached you in that bar, I should’ve been upfront with you about what was going on. I should’ve told you why I was there instead of going about this charade.”
“Yes. You should have.”
“What you’re doing to these women is despicable,” she said. “You understand that, right? You’re lucky no one else has filed a complaint against you until now. It’s the only thing you’
ve got going for you.”
“I bet you have a nice large file on me right now, don’t you?” I asked.
“Locked away in my desk. I sure do. It’s because I’m good at my job. Always have been. It’s how I caught my father—”
Olivia shut her mouth before she said anymore, but she already had my attention. My eyes darted along her, reading her like an open book, and for a split second, I softened.
“The rumors in high school were true, weren’t they?” I asked.
“About as true as the rumors about your mother, yes. That’s why you’re doing all this, right? To somehow show the world that women can’t treat you the way your mother did?”
“Got a psych degree in that desk, too?” I asked.
“Wesley, believe me. I’ve been wanting to back out of this for days. The deeper we got into it, the more wrong it felt.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’ve enjoyed every single fucking moment I’ve spent with you. Wes, I never thought I’d see you again. You dumped me the night before graduation and didn’t even attend the ceremony. What the hell happened to you? My heart ached for you for months.”
“Like you fucking care,” I said. “Look, Olivia, I know how this works. At one point in time, I conned women for a living. Hopping from state to state, taking what they had on them in order to survive when no one would hire me. I know how this game works. I get them in my claws just like you got me, and just as they begin to fall in love with me, I pounce and then leave.”
“Wes, that’s not what I was going to do.”
I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. The way she was pleading, I almost believed it. And honestly? Every part of me wanted to. I wanted to reach out to her and take her hand. I wanted to hold her close and tell her I forgave her. I wanted to believe she was different, that she hadn’t spun a web of lies just for her pleasure. Just to see me writhe. Just to see me flail.
But I couldn’t.
“I love you, Wes,” Olivia said breathlessly.
A grin flew across my face before I began to chuckle. She reached out for my hand, and I pulled it away, crossing my arms over my chest. I shook my head as my laughter grew, and before I knew it, I’d thrown my head back. I was laughing at her. Laughing at the absurdity of it all. Olivia had run her own con and had gotten sucked into the romanticism she’d created by herself.
“You were just using me, Olivia. It’s obvious. You’re trying to nail me to the wall for robbing your poor, pathetic friend, and you’ve been caught in your own web. I might’ve been flailing around in your lies, allowing myself to be sucked into the beautiful body you seem to have cultivated. But you’ve gotten stuck, too. You fell in love with your own fucking ruse, and that’s what makes you and me different.”
“What’s so different?” she asked.
“Because unlike you, Olivia,” I said as I planted my hands in my lap. “I don’t fall in love.”
Massive tears lobbed down Olivia’s cheeks as shock rolled over her face. She wasn’t breathing, she wasn’t moving, and for a split second, I thought she was going into shock. She leaned back into her chair before her eyes finally pulled away from mine, and I shook my head before I bowed my gaze into my lap.
“Get out,” I said.
“What?”
“I said, get the fuck out. Take your phony fucking papers and your bullshit persona and get the hell out of my house.”
“Wesley, please. Let me help you.”
“That’s rich, coming from a private investigator. You mean little old Olivia Hart is willing to give up all she’s worked for, all she’s done on a case, just to hop on a bit more dick. Sweetheart, I’ve mesmerized many women with my devilish ways. You most certainly won’t be the last.”
“Please, just listen.”
“I’ve listened enough,” I said. “Take your shit, and get the fuck out.”
“Wesley—”
“Holy hell, Olivia. What don’t you get? You wanna know why I was laughing? Because while you were conning me, I was conning you!”
That got her attention, and she slowly stood to her feet.
“You were what?” she asked.
“The very first night you came to the bar. You made some hoity statement about how you had a shit ton of money now and could do with it whatever you wished. Why did you think I was fucking you so well? I figured I just needed to get a bit more wine in you before you passed out afterward.”
The force of my words stumbled her back on her feet. I picked up the papers on the table and shoved them into her chest, making sure our fingers didn’t touch when I pulled back.
“Get the hell out, and don’t you dare come back,” I said. “Unless it’s to arrest me, of course.”
Then, without another word, she turned around on her heels and ran for her car.
Chapter 22
Olivia
My eyes fluttered open Sunday morning, and my head was pounding. I’d cried all the way home, tossing the papers in the back of my car. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I wanted to lay in bed and forget this bullshit ever existed. I wanted to let Wesley run free and block Destiny’s number. I wanted to take back the words I’d told him last night. I’d allowed myself to be swept up into him, just like I had been in high school, and now my heart was breaking.
Just like it had in high school.
Guess some things don’t change, after all.
I lay in bed and groaned as flashbacks of my dream came pummeling through my mind. All night long, I saw Wesley’s beautiful eyes. All night long, he devoured every inch of my body. His tongue had been down my neck, along my back, and between my legs. His tongue had drunk me down before pulling more juices from between my legs. His hands had roamed my body, massaging my tits and cupping my ass while he pulled my hips closer to his mouth.
I could feel my tits puckering as I thought about it, despite the night they’d had last night. Wesley had interjected himself into every part of my life. He’d peppered my neck with kisses and slid his arms around my waist. He’d slammed his hips against mine and pressed me into surfaces I’d never be able to get out of my mind. He’d shown me what it felt like to truly feel beautiful in the arms of a man, and as my hand slid down my stomach, I could feel my pussy already leaking down my slit.
I could still feel his hands roaming my thighs. I could still feel his lips against mine. My body flushed with wanton lust for him, ignoring the previous night and hooking my memory onto his lips.
Onto the loving man in my dreams.
My fingers parted my pussy folds before they began to roam. I squirmed underneath the sheets, his name whispering from my lips as my hips began to buck. In my mind, I conjured our first night together and all the positions he took me in. I remembered how cool the dusty wall was against my back as he filled me to the brim. I remembered how his dick pushed apart my swollen walls as I sat down onto his lap. I shivered at the memory of how his dick felt pulsing inside me, filling me with his hot come as he marked my body.
My free hand came up to tweak my nipples, pulling moans and groans from my body just as my fingers began circling my clit.
“Fuck, Wes. Yes.”
My body hummed for him. I wanted him there with me. I wanted his fingertips to be the ones between my legs. I dug my heels into my mattress and thrust my hips in the air while simultaneously thinking about how he pinned me down on the beach. My head dug into my pillow while my clit began to swell underneath my skin, and the words I desperately wanted to hear fall from his lips last night fell to the forefront of my mind.
“I love you, too, Olive.”
Tears lined my eyes as my fingers continued to work. My fluids coated my hand as they dripped onto my bedspread, while my chest began to heave for air. I could feel his lips everywhere. Around my nipples. Down my stomach. Biting into my hips. Marking the insides of my thighs. I felt his hands running down my back, tracing the outline of my spine before he slid himself into me from behind. I could feel his hips snapping agains
t my ass, jiggling my body for his viewing pleasure as my fingers picked up the pace.
“Yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t stop.”
My head was spinning, and my legs were trembling. I could feel his fingertips in the meat of my thighs as I imagined my fingers to be his tongue. My pelvis burned for him, and my toes curled into the sheets, and suddenly, stars burst behind my eyelids as I fell to the bed in a heap of sweating pleasure.
I pressed my fingers into my swollen clit as my body jolted with my orgasm. Wesley’s name fell from my lips as my tits bounced with joy, my head pressing deep into my pillow. My wrist was beginning to cramp, and my toes were growing sore, and by the time my orgasm was finally done, tears were streaming down the sides of my face.
Because when I opened my eyes and looked down, I saw nothing.
No one.
I was alone.
I peeled myself from the bed and made my way to the shower. I didn’t bother to turn on the light because I didn’t want to see what I looked like in the mirror. I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d fallen from cloud nine and cracked her skull on the pavement. I didn’t want to see the flushed chest I could feel burning when I knew Wesley wasn’t there.
