Page 67 of Bitter Secrets

She stood before the elevator and examined herself. The doors were so shiny, they served as a full-length mirror. She may be wounded, but at least she didn’t look it. She was dressed down in jeans, boots, and trench coat. Even with makeup, she still looked a bit too pale. The area around her eyes was a little puffy, but only someone who knew her well would be able to detect it.

Johan tapped the keypad to call the elevator. Her fingers twitched in the pockets of her coat as she counted the passing seconds. What was taking so long? Gale-force winds tore through her insides as her patience stretched to the breaking point. She had to get out of here.

As the doors opened, her control snapped. She lurched forward, even turning sideways to fit through the narrow opening, and hit the button for the lobby before remembering another code was needed. She stared straight ahead as Johan boarded and calmly typed in the second set of numbers. Her hands balled into fists as they traveled down. He didn’t look at her, but she knew he was cataloging everything about her. Mo and Johan were nothing like her father’s security, who were curt, usually ex-military, and looked right through her. They saw her as a job and hadn’t paid close enough attention to her, which is why she was able to ditch them and run off to Colorado. Mo and Johan wouldn’t be easily fooled. They treated her like a flight risk right from the start when they blocked her exit in that hospital waiting room. She never went anywhere unescorted and the only time she was left to her own devices was in Roth’s domain where there was no escape.

When they reached the lobby, she stopped herself from bolting and making a spectacle of herself. Nonetheless, her speed walk forced Johan to quicken his pace to stay by her side. She held up her hand to acknowledge the staff standing at attention at the front desk before they walked outside. Mo was at the curb. She didn’t allow Johan to open her door, but did it herself and plopped down in the back seat.

“Mrs. Roth,” Mo acknowledged.

“Drive,” she ordered.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere. Just…” She waved her hand as Johan ducked into the front passenger seat. “Away.”

The moment Johan was buckled in, they pulled away from the building. The invisible weight on her chest lifted. She needed a place to write. There were hundreds of coffee shops in this city, but she needed to find the right one. As she started her search, she was interrupted by an incoming call from Angelica Hart. She sent the call to voicemail and fell down a rabbit hole of social media reviews, images, and menus as Mo cruised through traffic.

She leaned between the front seats and held out her phone. “Doesn’t this look good?”

Mo and Johan looked at the picture of fancy latte art before they gave identical shrugs.

“Their food is highly rated,” she added as an afterthought.

That seemed to be enough for Mo because he asked, “What’s the address?”

As she rattled it off, Mo nodded. “We’re not far from Notting Hill.”

She sat back as Angelica called again. She didn’t have to answer to know what her classmate that she hadn’t talked to in six years wanted. Ever since Dad died, she had been bombarded by calls from people who assumed she was looking for a cause or idea to invest in. Dad gave her a gift by bestowing riches upon her, but he also painted a target on her back. She assumed she would live the quiet life of a writer, but Dad forced her back into the spotlight with her inheritance. Colette could have expanded Hennessy & Co or made remarkable deals with this money. Why had he given everything to the daughter who had never participated in the business world?

Her fingers restlessly tapped against the door handle. Maybe the upcoming marriage announcement wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Roth’s reputation preceded him. Everyone would back off once they found out they were married. Everyone would assume her husband would take over her inheritance or at least have a say in what to do with it. No one would interfere for fear of incurring his wrath. The monster fending off other predators. How fitting.

“I’ve fooled many people, but Mom always saw me for what I am, and now you see it too.”

She lurched forward. “How much further?”

“About ten minutes.” Mo eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head as she fingered her throat, which felt like it was closing. “No.”

She couldn’t stay still, not when her insides were writhing. Her legs bounced as she tried to expend energy. There was a storm raging inside her. She needed an outlet, or she was going to combust. Writing was her preferred coping mechanism, but if she were home, she would have gone for a run around the lake to take the edge off. Instead, she had to sit in the back of this fucking car and pray that she wouldn’t lose it before they made it to the coffee shop.

Desperate for a distraction, she turned to her phone and logged onto social media. Maybe someone had posted a hilarious meme or a video of puppies frolicking in a meadow. She logged off less than five minutes later. She didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than she already did, but she was wrong. Social media was a form of Russian Roulette, and today she got blasted. Readers were upset that there was no word on book five. A few messaged to tell her they were giving up on her. Another person tagged her in a one-star review, while another ranted on her public page.You’re sick. Your books aren’t romance. This is toxic and a poor example of what a good, healthy relationship should be. I’ve reported your book to…She passed a hand over burning eyes. Today wasn’t her day. She had a feeling tomorrow wouldn’t be either.

She stared out the window, but couldn’t see a damn thing through the tears. It was a struggle to get through the day in one piece. How could she write when her world was crumbling around her?

She was relieved when they pulled up to the café. She and Johan went inside while Mo parked the car. The dim lighting, comfy furniture, oversized coffee cups, and relaxed ambiance was everything she could have hoped for.

She and Johan were still perusing the menu when Mo joined them. As she stepped up to the counter, she realized they had the worker’s undivided attention. Even though Mo and Johan had dressed down from their normal suits to slacks and coats, they were still drawing quite a few curious looks. She suspected it had more to do with their striking contrasts than anything else. Mo was dark-skinned with curly black hair, a full beard, and dark brown eyes, while Johan was bald with alabaster skin and blue eyes.

She placed her order and turned to her guards. “My treat.”

She stepped off to the side as they asked questions about the menu. She looked over the patrons and focused on a pair of two women in their seventies. One was dressed in shades of purple, while the other dressed in sunshine yellow. They were giggling like schoolgirls and seemed to be having the best time. Her lips twitched, but she was incapable of making them curve into an actual smile. She wished she could sit at their table and get lost in their lives, so she wouldn’t have to think about her own. Had she ever been that happy? She was so lost in her thoughts that when she looked back at the counter, it was to see Johan pocketing a black credit card. One guess who that belonged to.

“I told you, I was going to get it,” she snapped.

“He pays your way,” Johan said mildly.

“Ipay my way.”

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