by Emma Hart
Talking of Lola…
“Mommy?” She appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eye and clutching Dolly under her arm.
“What’s up, pumpkin?” I held out my arm for her.
She joined me on the sofa, stumbling slightly as she curled into me. “I miss Zac and Adrian.”
I swallowed hard. “Me, too.”
“No, Mommy. I really miss them.”
“I understand,” I said, really telling the truth.
It was as if a hole had broken up in our world.
“Can I call Zac tomorrow?”
“Sure you can,” I answered. “Will you go to sleep right now?”
“I’ll try.” She pulled back and looked at me. “Mommy, do you really miss them?”
I reached out and stroked the backs of my fingers across her silky-soft cheek. “I do, Lo. An awful lot.”
“Okay.” As if that answer was the one she had been waiting for, she nodded and stood. “Goodnight, Mommy. I’ll turn my light off.”
I smiled. “Goodnight, LoLo. I’ll come check in a little bit.”
Lola responded with a smile that broke my heart. “Okay. ‘Night, Mommy.”
I watched her as she trotted away from me, down the hall, and around and up the stairs.
It was the first night I’d been truly alone for as long as I could remember.
I picked up my phone, hit Adrian’s name, and sent him a message I knew there was every chance I’d regret in the morning.
Me: I need you.
***
Three glasses of wine later, I was watching a rerun of America’s Got Talent. It’d rolled on from whatever I’d been staring at earlier.
Two hours had passed since my text.
I knew he was at work. I had no right to be annoyed. I had no claim over the man, and I had no right to send the message I had, but there I was.
I was a Fox, through and through. The little plastic rectangle in the hidden zip-pouch of my purse reminded me of that. As a Fox, I got what I wanted.
Except this time, it wasn’t a want because I could.
It was a want because I wanted it.
I wanted Adrian. Head to toe. Heart to nerves. All of me wanted the man who’d been radio silence since I’d walked out of his house.
I deserved it.
I was rags to riches. He was pure, honest. I was lies and deceit and dollars. He was love and kindness and goodness.
My entire life had been a lie, while his was a painful truth.
I didn’t deserve him.
Headlights flashed in my window.
I sipped wine.
I missed him.
The lights stopped.
I finished my wine.
A door slammed.
My glass clinked against the table.
Knocks to my door.
I jerked my head around.
Silence.
I paused.
More knocks.
I got up and wandered lazily toward the door. Another knock sounded between me getting up and me reaching the door, and my heart beat a hundred miles an hour as I recognized the figure on the other side of the glass.
I opened it.
Adrian stood there. His shirt and tie were perfect. His pants were pressed. He smelled like hot water and coffee, and I knew instantly he hadn’t been in a casino tonight.
His hair begged me to run my fingers through it. His eyes asked a thousand questions I couldn’t ask. His jaw was so tight I wanted to cup it to soothe it.
His lips were so full, pouting like they knew the way I wanted to kiss them.
“Why are you here?” I asked softly.
“You text me,” Adrian asked, his gaze roving over my body. “So, I came when I finished my shift.”
“What about Zac?”
“At my sister’s.”
I stepped aside and let him in. I barely moved, though. I pressed myself against the wall so he could pass, but he didn’t do that—he didn’t pass me. He stopped in front of me, giving me just enough room to shut the door.
He leaned over—twisted the key—locked it—came back to me.
“Why?” His husky voice breathed the word over my lips. “Why did you text me?”
I answered the only way I knew how.
I kissed him. I gave into the desires that had hounded me all day long, and I touched his lips to mine in a kiss that I knew would be seared into my soul for as long as I lived.
He knew it, too. He kissed me just as hard and passionately, massaging our lips together until I gasped. Fire stoked in my belly, goosebumps rolled out across my skin, and my fingers clawed at his strong shoulders as if I needed him to ground me.
And in a way, I did.
There was something about this man that addicted me to him.
Something that addicted me and endeared me and made me obsess until I was clear out of my mind.
That was how I felt as I kissed him, pressed against my hallway.
I was addicted and endeared and obsessed out of my mind, but I didn’t regret it a damn bit.
“I missed you,” I whispered against his lips, cupping his face with my hands. The rough hair that lined his jaw rubbed against my palms, but it only served to strengthen the way my heart beat against my chest.
“It’s been a day,” Adrian replied, his voice low and mumbling.
“I know. I don’t care.”
“How much wine did you drink?”
I pressed my finger against his lips and looked him in the eyes. “More than when I texted you.”
He stared into my eyes. “Do you need to go to bed?”
“Are you coming with me?”
“Perrie—”
I pressed my lips to his once again. “I’m not drunk, Adrian. I know what I want right now, and that’s you. Either be mine or leave.”
He curled a hand around the back of my neck, tugging my hair into his fist as he gripped it. “I am yours, baby. Are you fuckin’ blind?”
“Blind and stupid. Prove it to me.” I jutted out my chin. “Show me.”
He gritted his jaw and—oh god, and then, he showed me. He took me on my dare and he kissed me so fucking hard my shoulders hurt as they slammed against the wall, but I didn’t care. I wanted him and I needed him and I was ready for all the things he was about to throw at me.
Our bodies melded together like they were meant to be. Somehow, we made it upstairs. I think I dragged him by his shirt, pulling him after me so he knew just how much I needed him to follow me in that moment.
He did it, capturing me in his arms the moment his feet hit the top stair. I pulled his tie from his neck and threw it away before we’d passed through my bedroom door. We were a flurry of arms and legs and desire as we tangled back onto my bed.
Side-by-side, we kissed, both of our bodies fighting for dominance over the other. Legs entwined, hands fisted and slipped. Fingers toyed with buttons and knots and clasped until we both wore nothing but our underwear.
I flipped on top of him. Straddling him, his cock pressed against my pussy and made me gasp. His hands stroked down my back and cupped my ass, holding me tight, and he grinded against me.
I kissed him.
Kissed him more and more and more until underwear disappeared and I wrapped my hand around his thick, hard cock and held it at my opening. His thumb teased my clit long enough that I gapsed and begged for relief, but it didn’t come until I positioned my hips over his cock and eased down onto him.
Slowly, easily, hotly. I took him all those ways and more, with my lips parted and my eyes open. I took his cock in my cunt and gasped my pleasure as I accepted the invasion into my body.
I stilled, him buried deep in me, my fingers gripping against his muscles. My nails dug into his shoulders. Arching my back, I knew I was pushing my luck as I took him fully. My clit rubbed against the harsh hair that decorated the area above his pubes. Pleasure ribbed through me, and I ground my hips against him.
I rode him. Pure and simple, I gave into the inst
incts that were running wild through me. I leaned forward, releasing my nails from his shoulders, bending my knees and arching my back and curving my hips and fucking his cock until I couldn’t anymore.
Until sweat slicked me from head to toe and the orgasm was on the brink of my consciousness and I stilled with exhaustion.
Adrian slid his hands down my back—up my sides, over my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips, to cup my ass. My skin lit on fire as the heat of his touch dissipated.
He didn’t just cup my ass.
He gripped it—hard. Grabbed it. Owned it. Possessed it. All the time, he held my hips in place against him and thrust his own. He fucked me into oblivion, until I couldn’t focus clearly anymore. Until all I could see were stars and darkness and the thumping of my heart as it told me I loved the man beneath me.
***
Six a.m.
It was no fun.
I sat alone in my kitchen, at the table. The debit card with my name on sat in the middle of the table. Slowly, I pushed it back and forth, up and down the table in front of me.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
That was the noise it made as the plastic scraped against the wood.
That was the noise it made as it seemed to scream, “Money! Money! Money! Money!”
Like, every push back and forth said that.
Mon-ey.
Mon-ey.
Mon-ey.
I pushed the card away and left it on the last one.
Yesterday, before I’d left, Damien told me the contents of the account.
Nineteen million dollars.
That was what I, Perrie Fox, heir to the Fox business, single mom, and ex-prostitute was worth.
Nine. Teen. Mill. I. On. Dollars.
It was a joke. It wasn’t real. Damien was messing with—I hadn’t accessed this account for so long, I was terrified to attempt it. He’d even given me all the security details I needed.
Nineteen million dollars.
That wasn’t bad for a bastard baby.
I touched the card, only to recoil from it again.
The money…It changed my life. It was the life I was always meant to have. But that didn’t mean it felt right. No, it felt strange. Weird and wrong. This little blonde girl was never meant to be this rich. It was a fact I’d accepted the moment I’d understood Benedict hated me.
But, what I did know what was that my mother loved me.
My mom loved me with everything she was. She’d been a beautiful person, inside and out. Golden from her hair to her very soul. She was impossible to hate, and her heart knew no bounds.
I was her double. I was the one with blonde hair. The enigma, the odd duck, the black sheep.
And ever since her death, I’d lived in the shadow of my adoptive father’s hatred.
I’d allowed his beliefs of me to pollute my own confidence.
I picked up the card once more, holding it between my finger and thumb.
“Perrie?”
I turned my face toward Adrian, full-clothed in what he was wearing when he showed up yesterday. “Hey.”
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.” I set the card back down and returned my attention to it.
He took the chair opposite mine. “What are you looking at?”
I pointed at it.
Adrian picked it up and studied it. “It’s a bank card.”
“It’s my bank card.”
“I’m confused.”
“Damien gave it to me yesterday. It’s the card to the inheritance I’ve been blocked from since Lola was born.” I slid the card in front of me. “It feels weird. Knowing that Benedict is away in rehab and Damien is in control, and this card—this little plastic square, holds the part of me my mom always meant me to have.”
“I bet.”
“Nineteen million dollars.” I moved my gaze from the card to him. “That’s how much is in that account. He showed me the statement. And that isn’t all of it. There’s shares in Mom’s trust until I turn thirty. I’ve literally gone from nothing to everything, and I have no idea what to do with it.”
“Must be terrible,” he said dryly.
I snapped my eyes up. “You think I wanted this? Any of this?”
“I think you wish you’d never left your life,” Adrian said. “I think you wish you’d found a way to keep Lola and the life you once had.”
“Yeah?”
“I wish you had. I wish you’d never crossed the great divide between rich and poor.”
A lump formed in my throat. “You wish you’d never met me?”
“No,” he said gently. “Not for a second. I’m glad I met you, Perrie. I just wish I’d never fallen in love with you.”
I froze.
Time stopped.
Everything around me stilled.
Except Adrian.
He moved, full-speed, to stand from his chair. He gave me a small smile before he disappeared through my hallway, then my door. He even took the time to lock my door and put the keys through the mailbox before he left.
This time…
This time, for good.
I stared at the door for a long time after he left, the bank card a thorn in my eye as it pushed against the corner of my vision.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adrian
The email confirming her notice of termination hit my desk before I’d even sat down. It had been printed, almost as if to taunt me, sitting on top of all the other files I had to look through.
I picked it up, scoffed, and threw it back down. Why did I care? She didn’t. She was a multi-millionaire, now. She always had been. She’d said as much herself. The money had been her mom’s, she’d just been blocked from it.
My job tonight was to arrest a prostitute, but not a part of me cared. How many of these women were like her, ultimately living a lie?
Not a piece of me had liked walking out on her this morning. I loved her—fuck, I loved her. Wildly and with every piece of me I had fucking left.
But her entire existence had been a lie. It had been a twisted, fucked-up version of reality that I didn’t know I would ever understand.
Except—I could.
I had all the files. I had the reality at the tips of my fingers.
All the answers I wanted…I could get.
I picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s extension.
“Sam,” I said before he could answer. “You’re in charge tonight. Two arrests, scout three locations. You know the drill. I’m out.”
“You’re—”
I hung up before he could continue. I’d worked overtime for months, and now, I was gonna sit my fucking ass in this office and unravel the mystery of Perrie Fox.
***
Perrie Carter is born to a wanted murderer and Hannah Fox.
Age two: Hannah Fox files charges of abuse against Roy Carter.
Age three: Roy Carter is charged for murder, child abuse, actual bodily harm, and attempted murder. He receives a life sentence from Nevada and is deported to another state for sentencing there.
Age three: Perrie Carter is adopted by Benedict Fox.
Age seventeen: Perrie Fox’s sister, Penelope Fox, is found dead in a motel room. Suspected overdose. Six months later: The Fox’s open an investigation into their daughter’s death. They insist it was an accident. LVPD open an investigation at the persuasion of Benedict Fox.
Age eighteen: The Fox family is informed that Penelope Fox’s death was definitely drug-related, and no third party was involved. The case is closed.
Age eighteen: Hannah Fox is found dead, hanging in the family home.
Age nineteen: Perrie Fox’s boyfriend and admitted father of her unborn child is charged with drink-driving and proclaimed dead on arrival to the hospital.
Age twenty-six: Perrie Fox was arrested for prostitution.
Age twenty-six: Detective Adrian Potter fell completely in love with her and broke his own fuck
ing heart in the process.
I should have known better.
There were so many reasons, all written in the riddles of the case files that made up her life, that eluded to why she’d taken the path she had.
I’d broken my own heart—and maybe hers—because I believed we were different. That we were two different flips of a coin, and maybe we were. She was heads and I was tails, but fuck it. We were the same goddamn coin, and I was a fool.
She had always been Perrie Fox.
She’d always had the key to the world.
And I’d loved her before she was even able to unlock that key.
And maybe—just maybe, she’d fucking loved me, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Perrie
Lola shoved a piece of paper at me.
I took the roughly-folded, green sheet, and opened it. But not before I’d raised my eyebrow at her. “What is this?”
She jutted out her chin and placed her hands on her hips. “Read it.”
“To Perrie,” I read, noting the questionable, child-like handwriting that scrawled my name. “Yoo ar envyted to a partee at Zac’s howse. Twoday at 4 oh clock. Pleez dress pretti.”
I scrunched up my face and looked at Lola. “Did you and Zac write this?”
Wide-eyed, she shook her head. “No, Mommy.”
Yeah. All right. I believed her.
“Four o’clock is in twenty minutes,” I told her. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get to Zac’s house in twenty minutes.”
She pulled her little eyebrows together into a frown. “You don’t want to go to his house?”
“Well… Baby girl, it’s not always as simple as that, okay?”
She sat on the arm of the sofa with a ‘hmph.’ “That’s what Adrian said.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What did Adrian say?”
“He said grown-ups suck.”
“Well, he was right.”
“Mommy, will you please go to our party?” She shuffled in front of me, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. She peered up at me through her thick, blond eyelashes. “Please?”
I tilted my head to the side and looked at her. She was so earnest and honest—for whatever reason she had planned, she wanted me to go to the one place I swore to myself at three a.m. I’d never visit again.
