Page 54 of House of Lies

I’m struggling to remember when last I felt like I was in control.

Was it before, or after I met Becks?

Before or after I met Myles?

Was I ever in control?

Snippets of time jump out at me. Yes. Yes, I was in control. Minutes, sometimes hours at a time.

But that part of my life ended when I met Becks. My contact with Myles should have ended then, too. But the Balmont Boys don’t enjoy giving up their toys, especially invaluable assets like me.

A month ago, I thought I was getting my shit together. I’d finally run out of reasons to procrastinate. Selling Glenmont Manor became a priority, and I threw everything I had into it.

When I called Janice a few days ago and told her to send someone to come clean, I thought the end was in sight. I was in control again…and this time it had nothing to do with the Balmont Boys.

Then Cassidy showed up at my door.

I arrive back in my room grumpy and frustrated. All Cassidy’s fault, of course. I should have realized how she’d respond to my punishment, but she caught me off guard.

Christ, she was dripping.

And the way her tight pussy clenched around my fingers?

Just thinking about it makes my cock tents the front of my pants.

Despite my raging hard-on, I refuse to give myself any kind of release.

When I wake up the next morning and check my phone, there’s a voice message from Myles.

“Aw, I knew you’d like her. She’s such a little spitfire. That defiance in her eyes? You two suit each other.

“Why don’t you bring her back to the city with you? No. Wait. She’d probably draw too much attention.

“Well, she’s yours now, so I guess you can do whatever the hell you want with her.”

Spitfire? That’s one way of putting it.

I head for the kitchen to make some coffee, but pause outside Cassidy’s room. It’s still early—I doubt she’s even awake. But that doesn’t stop me from opening the door to check on her.

With the thick curtains drawn and the sun only just peeking over the distant horizon, the room is more shadow than light. Cassidy is a vague shape on the bed, her back turned, dark hair stark against the pale sheets.

I fight the urge to go closer, but she draws me in like a goddamn siren.

She breathes slow and shallow, the back of one hand pressed against her forehead like the little drama queen she is. I wonder which rich asshole she’s arguing with in her dreams?

My jaw clenches, and I have to force my fingers out of the fist they curl into…only to brush hair off her cheek and run my knuckles lightly down her face. That light touch doesn’t disturb her, and thank God, because the last thing I want to do is explain why I’m standing beside her bed.

I’ve become a stalker in my own fucking house.

I take a step back, careful so the floorboards don’t creak under my weight.

Her phone pings with a new message.

In the hush of her dark room, it’s like a bomb going off. I flinch, and Cassidy’s body jerks. Through some miracle, she doesn’t wake. But the noise disturbs her enough that she rolls forward a little, using her arm as a pillow.

Her phone screen is lit up, and after a fierce but brief battle, curiosity conquers privacy. I lean closer to the nightstand, scanning the truncated message on her cellphone.

lewis

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