Pretty Dirty Trick: A Rich Bitches Novel

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “If you have some other crime you’d like to confess to, I’m all ears, Mr. Donner. Sexual assault, perhaps?”

  He stares at me, unblinking. “Angelo protects this neighborhood,” he says. “They remember what it’s like without him. Right now, things are stable with the twins in charge... but if that changes, then you’ll have blood on your hands, Mr. Tyler. No one wants that. Not me, not you. Not Trix.”

  “Don’t talk about her,” I warn.

  “Does she know about your career aspirations?” he asks. “How would she react if she knew you were pursuing this?”

  I bite down hard.

  “She’s an Argento,” he continues. “She might not like that right now but she understands what’s at stake, no matter how good-natured she is. She seems oddly indifferent to the idea of you putting her father away but would she really feel the same if you went after her brothers, too? How long before you implicate her as an accessory? Where’s your line, Mr. Tyler?”

  I don’t answer. I want to say she’d understand, that she’d want me to do what was right, but... am I really sure of that?

  He shakes his head. “You might not believe this but Trix is important to me and not just because I get paid to think that way.”

  “You’re right.” I nod. “I don’t believe that.”

  “And that’s fine. Just like it’s fine that she chose you over me. I’ve accepted that. Not that my feelings for her are any of your concern anyway.”

  I eye his cheek. “You’ve got a strange way of showing affection, Donner.”

  “It’s no stranger than yours,” he says, leaning forward. “When exactly did locking up your girlfriend’s family replace a box of chocolates?”

  I exhale with frustration.

  He smiles for a second before letting it drop again. “You need to decide. Are you going to continue down this road?” he asks. “Are you going to take down Danny and Gavin, let these people truly become victims again, and lose Trix... all because you did what you thought was right? Is a better office on the top floor really worth that much to you?”

  “What do you intend to do about it if I do?” I ask.

  He stands up, taking his mug with him. “My advice, Mr. Tyler: pick a different crusade. This one won’t end well for anybody.”

  “Ah.” I smirk. “There’s the threat I was waiting for.”

  “If that’s what you want to call it. I prefer to think of it as... active motivation.”

  I scoff.

  “Just think about it,” he says. “That’s all I ask.”

  Marcus turns away and walks out of the shop, leaving me here with my untouched cup of coffee.

  I push it away, leaving it be, as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach in for it, hoping for some good news and my heart skips a beat as I read Trix’s name.

  Can’t wait for tonight. Bring a white wine. It’ll go better with dinner. :)

  I smile at the message. My Trix. The mere mental image in her lying beneath me, her knees resting on my shoulders while I fuck her into oblivion makes my chest tingle. It tingles even more when I think of her just sitting next to me on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder while we watch a movie.

  Blissful ecstasy. Comfortable silences. Absolute perfection.

  I have her. I can keep her — but would she really look at me the same if I pursued this case? Would I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I dropped it for my own selfish desires?

  These people deserve someone who will speak for them... but do they already have that in Angelo? Do the good things bad people do balance the scales that much?

  And if so, why is that so hard for me to believe?

  Thirty-Seven

  Trix

  I step off the elevator and admire the large, backlit logo on the wall, just like I do every time I come and visit Nora at her office.

  Little Black Book. It all started with her very own pocketbook and now she’s one of the wealthiest women in Chicago. I couldn’t be prouder of my friend. She wasn’t born into it like I was — making her the perfect role model for me as I embark on my fresh start.

  I march through the desks scattered around. A few of her employees turn their heads up and acknowledge me with a brief nod. I nod right back. I might not work here but I come through here about once a week, so most of them know who I am outside of the Argento tabloids.

  “Uh-huh,” I hear Nora’s voice as I come close to her office. “Yeah, we’ll have to do something about that.”

  I pause in the doorway and knock on the frame. She looks up at me over the rims of her reading glasses and smiles, her desk phone gently balanced against her ear with her shoulder. I hold up the paper take-out bag and she raises an enthusiastic thumbs-up with her other hand.

  “Well, you can tell Percy that he’s just gonna have to get over that,” she says into the phone. I walk in and quietly sit down in the chair across from her. “Sure. Okay, thanks, Rachel. Bye.”

  Nora hangs up, exhales all the air in her lungs, and then bounces right back up. “Hey,” she says.

  “Hi!” I smile and tear into the bag. “What’s up?”

  “Eh,” she waves a hand, “just running into a few design snags with the new app. Percy likes this. Rachel likes that. I’m, of course, the tie-breaker, so now they hate each other. Blah, blah, blah...”

  I hand her a pair of chopsticks and she breaks them apart. “They’re fucking, aren’t they?”

  She pauses, thinking for a moment. “Actually, now that you mention it... probably.”

  I chuckle as I set out the two small trays of sushi rolls. “I brought the usual today. Have at it.”

  Her head tilts. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

  “Only every time I feed you.”

  She dunks a roll into the cup of soy sauce. “I love you,” she says before shoving it into her mouth.

  I do the same. “Love you, too.”

  We both sit back, silently chewing and making yum-yum noises. After a minute, Nora gestures to the other bags I brought with me.

  “What’s all that stuff?” she asks.

  “Well...” I smile wide, “tonight, I’m cooking for Lance.”

  “Ooo!” She swoons. “Fun!”

  “I got everything I need for my world famous carbonara. He’s gonna love it.”

  Nora flashes a wink. “And then afterward... Dom or sub?”

  I snort. “What?”

  “Dom or sub?” she repeats.

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Bullshit.” She grins. “Trix, I know. You don’t have to hide it.”

  “Hide... what?”

  “I should have known all those Daddy jokes were just projection.” She points at me with her sticks. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  I wipe a bit of sauce off my lip. “Nora, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Clive told me he saw Lance at Red Brick,” she says.

  “When?”

  “Earlier today. Clive went in to help put together some new equipment and he saw Lance was talking to Judy. Figured he was buying something naughty to use on you later.” She pauses. “You didn’t know?”

  I lean back. “No...”

  “You’re not secretly into BDSM?” she asks, looking disappointed.

  “Nope,” I answer.

  “Is Lance?”

  “No. And I would be very surprised if he were.”

  She raises her brow. “Then, what was he doing there?”

  I pause to think. What was he doing there?

  I know the neighborhood really well — and not just because I grew up in Chicago. Judy is an old friend of the family, a close confidant of my father’s. Is Lance looking into my father’s business contacts? If so, why? What does that have to do with his conspiracy charges?

  “I don’t know,” I say instead.

  Nora sighs as she pinches another roll with her chopsticks. “Sounds like the two of you need to work on your communication,�
� she says.

  I nod. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “It’s the cornerstone of every successful relationship. Studies show that...”

  Her voice fades off into the back of my head. Honestly, I’ve heard Nora’s cornerstone speech a dozen times before. Not that she’s wrong or anything... I’m just not ready to look into that mirror yet.

  Follow the crime rate. I never got a chance to read the rest of that email. Is that what Lance is doing? If so, then he’s obviously going after more than just my father at this point...

  Marcus told me I should ask Lance why he took my father’s case. I brushed it off before, thinking it was nothing more than the ramblings of a jealous jerk but now I’m curious.

  Maybe it’s about time I do that.

  Thirty-Eight

  Trix

  They say a watched pot never boils. But is that really true?

  It’s gotta do it eventually, right? There’s only so much heat water can take before it starts rising and popping until it finally cascades over the sides of the pot and spills piping hot liquid all over your stove top. Realistically, it makes more sense to keep one eye on a pot at all times just in case.

  Because eventually…

  I take a handful of uncooked spaghetti and break the strands in two before dropping them into the pot. The sticks descend beneath the surface, getting lost in the sea of deadly bubbles.

  A knock echoes from the front door. I feel the usual spike of excitement but I find myself keeping an eye on the stove as I walk across the room to open it.

  I smile at Lance. He smiles back, his nose instantly tilting upward as he smells the air.

  “So, that’s what I’ve been smelling since I walked into the lobby,” he says.

  “Is that good or bad?” I ask.

  “Good,” he answers, walking forward. “Very, very good. What is that?”

  “Sauteed guanciale.”

  He rests a hand on my cheek and draws my head up. “Well, whatever that is, I want it inside of me,” he says.

  I close my eyes, immersing myself in the moment. Our lips fit together. He himself smells so good. His touch on my cheek sends shivers down my spine.

  “Uh-oh,” he says, looking over my head. “The pot.”

  I turn around. A large, white cloud of boiling water reaches the top of the pot.

  I rush to lower the heat before it gets worse and the water level drops without boiling over.

  “Sorry I distracted you,” Lance says with a laugh.

  “It’s all right,” I say. “No harm done.”

  I stir the pasta, now easily bending and twisting with the shape of the pot. I move the skillet with the guanciale to the back to keep it from burning.

  Lance comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. “White wine,” he says, holding up the bottle.

  I take it from him with a smile. “A good one, too.”

  His lips touch my neck from behind. “Only the best for you.”

  He curls his other arm over my chest and pulls me closer in a nice, loving embrace. Again, I close my eyes. Feeling it. Treasuring it.

  Because eventually…

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I exhale. “Yeah. Why?”

  “You seem stiff.” He kisses my shoulder.

  “I’m fine.” I set the wine on the counter. “So, what have you been up to today?” I ask.

  His arms drop away. “Working,” he answers. “Wine glasses?”

  I point to the cabinet over our heads. “Up there. Might be a bit dusty, though.”

  He reaches up to look for them and I bite my lip in hesitation before speaking again.

  “Anything special happen at work?” I ask.

  Lance pulls two glasses down from the cupboard. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about the case,” he says.

  I shrug. “Just… curious, I guess.”

  “Not much to report.”

  “No?”

  He pauses and eyes me for a moment. “Why?”

  I set my wooden spoon aside and clear my throat. “I heard from a friend that, uh… you were at a kink club today.”

  Lance blinks. “Since when are you calling Marcus a friend?”

  “Marcus?” I turn to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” he repeats.

  “Clive told Nora and Nora told me that you went to Red Brick to talk to Judy. What does Marcus have to do with anything?”

  “Well…” His voice falls as he breathes out.

  “Well?” I ask. “Lance, spit it out.”

  “Okay…” He stands a little taller. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to think right now.”

  “I went there to investigate a lead for the case, all right?” he says. “The owner has a business relationship with your dad. I went to talk with her. On the way out, Marcus intercepted me and we had a friendly chat. That’s all.”

  “A friendly chat about what? And what lead? My family’s business with Judy has nothing to do with what you’re putting my father away for. My brothers oversee that stuff now anyway—”

  I stop as his eyes turn downward.

  My brothers?

  I cross my arms. “Lance, what did you do?” I ask.

  He inhales, then hesitates. “Trix…”

  I take a step back, putting a little distance between us. “Why did you take this case?” I ask, Marcus’ warning echoing in the back of my head.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “I mean… my father’s case. Why did you take it?”

  “It was a big deal,” he says, delaying his words. “I wanted to be a part of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Trix—”

  “Answer the question, Lance.”

  He exhales, taking a moment. “The State’s Attorney is retiring this year.”

  “So?”

  “So… I want that job.”

  I gawk at him. “And you thought taking down Angelo Argento would help your chances? Who do you think got the last guy elected?”

  He leans back an inch. “What?”

  “Lance…” I breathe in deep, “I was fine with us when your case was just about my father, but… now you’re going after my brothers? When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “No work-no family, remember?” he says. “I didn’t bring it up because you didn’t want to hear about it.”

  I pause, my limbs trembling with doubt.

  He steps closer and lays a hand on my arm. “Trix, you left them.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “You didn’t want to be a part of that world anymore and for good reason.”

  “I know.”

  “Then, whose side are you on?” he asks.

  “I’m not on anyone’s side, Lance.”

  “Pick one.”

  I blink. “Excuse me?”

  “Pick a side,” he says. “Are you with me or are you with the guy who tried to rape you?”

  My jaw drops. “Did you really just ask me that?”

  “Why are you protecting them?” he asks.

  “Because they’re my family!” I say. “I don’t agree with them. We have our differences but I don’t hate them. I don’t want to stand by and watch while my lover throws them in prison. What about that is so difficult for you to understand?”

  He drops his hand from my arm. “What am I to you, Trix?” he asks. “Because right now, I’m not feeling like much more than a warm bed to you.”

  “That’s not fair.” I shake my head. “You know what you mean to me.”

  “A fresh start,” he quotes. “Yeah, I remember, but so far, all I’m seeing of this fresh start is you making every excuse in the world to stand by them no matter what.”

  “Okay. What am I to you, Lance?” I ask back. “What did you think was going to happen when I found out?”

  “I thought you were better than them,” he says. “I guess I was wrong.”

  I swallow
hard, forcing my tears down for a second longer. “Lance, drop this. Please. Leave them alone.”

  “No,” he says.

  He didn’t even hesitate. He just stares at me with those hard, determined eyes. He’s going to go through with this whether I’m with him or not.

  “Then…” My eyes burn. “I guess we’re done here.”

  Lance inhales as if he’s about to say something but his mouth stays closed. We both stand still, our gazes falling away from the other’s eyes, waiting for the other to speak up and save this…

  Is this really it? Is this how it ends?

  “Okay,” he finally says.

  My heart leaps with hope. “Okay?” I ask.

  “You’re right,” he says with a nod. “This can’t work. It was never…” He flexes his jaw as he looks at me. “We’re done.”

  I catch a tear before it falls, quickly wiping it away from my cheek as I hold my breath.

  “Okay,” I say, unable to think of anything else.

  He turns away and takes several slow steps toward the door. My heart lurches, begging me to do or say something to make him stay but my head has completely taken over. I know it’s the most rational thing. I understand the logic.

  But it still hurts.

  Lance opens the door and pauses. His eyes linger on the floor between us and for a moment it seems like he’ll stop. I even picture it.

  He slams the door and races back over to kiss me and I leap into his arms as our lips touch and—

  “Goodbye, Trix,” he says from the doorway.

  I force my lips not to shake. “Goodbye, Lance,” I say, my voice breaking.

  He walks out without another word, taking my chance at a fresh start along with him.

  My ears twitch at the sudden hiss on the stove top. I glance over and watch as pasta water rolls over the sides but I don’t move. I just stare at it until the tears in my eyes do the same.

  Eventually, right?

  Thirty-Nine

  Trix

  I keep my eyes on the glass conference room table in front of me. Every muscle in my body feels stiff and cold but my pulse races blood through my veins.

  Jerry leans over in his chair next to me and says something in my ear. I ignore it. It’s probably just the same old crap he told me on our way over here.