Page 48 of The Liar

“I wish I could meet her.” I knew it was impossible. At least for now. If anyone suspected West of not being who he claimed to be, then I’d be leading them straight to his real identity the minute I got in touch with Mrs. Conti.

He smiled, although it was a little sad. “She’d like you.”

I barely managed not to scoff. “Yeah, because aworkaholic cop is exactly what every mom wants for their little boy.”

His smile faded. “I’m serious. Mamma is big on loyalty and people who care. You’ve always been loyal and, no matter what you might think, you have a big heart.”

I tore my eyes from his. I didn’t know how to feel about any of this. It had been so much easier when I could hate him without knowing what was driving him. Now, being confronted with the fact he’d lost his father in one of the worst ways possible, it was difficult to maintain an emotional distance.

“Stop being so nice,” I muttered. “You don’t have to pretend your mamma would like me, or that you love me. It’s not part of your job anymore, and it’s confusing me.”

He raised our hands and dropped a kiss on the inside of my wrist, butterfly soft. “You’re right. It’s not part of my job anymore. That’s why you know I mean it when I say I love you. I’m going to keep saying it until you realize that.”

“Please—”

I cut him off when he pressed another kiss to my wrist. The pulse there fluttered wildly.

“I love you.” His lips moved against my skin, and he held my gaze, his green eyes searing into me with a silent promise. “I want you. And if De Luca flirts with you again, I’ll bury him.”

I lurched forward, closing the distance between us. Somehow, I ended up in his lap, and then we were kissing.

This was wrong. He was a professional liar. But his whispered promises didn’t sound like lies. They didn’t feel fake. Nor did the warning in his tone when he’d mentioned De Luca. And damn, it shouldn’t turn me on when he threatened someone, but it did.

I was messed up. But only when it came to him.

His lips touched mine, confident but gentle, as if he weregiving me plenty of time to change my mind. I didn’t want to. He tasted so good and felt so familiar against me, but if I let myself go on pretending, I’d only regret it later, and that would hurt us both. Much as I was angry at West, he’d lost enough.

I reluctantly extricated myself from him and stood back, panting. “I should go home.”

His eyes flashed. “Do you have to?”

I met his gaze. “It’s for the best.”

One side of his mouth hitched up. “Damn, I hate that you’re right.”

His phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a phone—not the phone I’d always seen him with but a different one. Sleek, black, and obviously high tech. I raised an eyebrow. It seemed Sasha wasn’t the only person who had two phones.

“Hello?” he answered, holding it beside his ear.

I started to move, but he gestured for me to stop.

“Hold on a minute.” He lowered the phone and pushed the speaker button.

“I thought of something,” a female voice said. It only took me a few seconds to place it. Portia.

“What is it?” West asked.

I kept my mouth shut. He hadn’t told her he’d put the phone on speaker, and I’d rather not make her uncomfortable.

“Was a diary found in Sasha’s apartment?”

West glanced at me, and I nodded.

“Yes, it was,” he said.

“Well, I was thinking.” Portia talked rapidly, her tone on the verge of frantic. “I write down notes about my clients every time I see someone, and I know Sasha did the same. It helps us to remember what they like and dislike, and to make their time with us more personal.”

“But… Sasha wasn’t an escort,” West said.

---