Page 187 of Deceit

I’m practically stuck in my spot for several reasons because searching Alexander’s space will only result in him possibly running into me or vice versa.

You might as well expose yourself. If you kill Alexander, the game is over.

Or he’ll throw the biggest bitch fit and tip my ex off that someone is in his place.

My brain tells me to retreat and try again later, but my heart, it lunges for him. It wants to be selfish and be recognized by the man I married.

The one I never divorced.

The one who didn’t get away but wanted to be kept within his own safety of emotions and thoughts where nothing and no one could hurt him.

Except I did hurt him.

I pretended to be dead, and only then did I see a speck of true feelings leave that man’s body.

I have to go.

Slowly, I double back my steps, and that’s when I hear the elevator ping outside the hall.

Thank fuck I took the stairs.

Remembering the small closet behind me, I find my forced hiding spot. The front door opens a moment later, then the knob jingles, and I hear Alexander’s mutteredfuck.

Keys are thrown on the side table, lights seep underneath the door I’m in. His dress shoes hit the hardwood floors, clearly on a mission to confront the person who may still be in his home.

It’s bold. Him being alone and not knowing what awaits him.

But then again, psycho.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” my ex seizes out. “I have security outside and inside this—“

“I’m here to get answers to my fucking questions,” Bishop carps out in his deliciously deep octave.

The fridge opens, and I hear Alexander say, “Then schedule an appointment. Now you’re going to go to jail for breaking and entering.”

“I’ll break your hand before you dial the last one, so sit before I start smashing shit.”

I don’t hear anything but silence for a moment as I press my ear to the door before my ex speaks next.

“What do you want?”

“Emmy wasn’t in a car accident, was she?”

“I don’t know,” he replies flatly. “I wasn’t with her, but that’s what I was told.”

“So, who’s covering her death? For a boyfriend, you sure looked okay at her funeral.”

“I should be asking you the same question. Your little gang may have killed her. But I wouldn’t know since she had a closed casket.”

“Which is funny because there was no car accident,” Bishop reiterates. “Which makes me believe you did something.”

What the fuck?

He got smart and pulled ameon me. He must’ve had someone pull video footage, but how would he learn where to even look because the place doesn’t exist.

Unless he’s calling a bluff.

“Why me?” Alexander presses.

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