Page 30 of Corrupt Game

The first time I’d heard him speak was when he’d taken me into his office.

Each question he’d asked had been with a purpose.

He wasted no emotional extras on making me feel comfortable. Almost sterile in nature, like a doctor with a bad bedside manner. He could turn on the charm or turn it off again but seemed to be more comfortable with specifics and not trying to make small talk.

I thought back to what had been said.

Food. Medical. Personal. He’d had a reason for each category so all of his bases were covered.

They’d made me think all the information they’d gathered had been from a deep dark dive into our backgrounds. He watched people and then used what he observed to make them do what he asked.

Nothing he did was without a purpose. Each thing he said was specific to elicit a response from me.

I’d given him a road map on how to manipulate me. Andy would have been just as vulnerable to that kind of charm. He wouldn’t have had his guard up with the CEO of a reputable company. Most of the things I’d heard about the company had been glowing reviews. The things about Ian Holdt, on the other hand, were wild and varied.

Andy wouldn’t have been able to con him for long. There would have been so many discrepancies that Mr. Holdt would have known it was the wrong kind of deal and had Rossi take care of the problem.

Any red flags that had come up, Andy would have ignored them because the money was too good to make waves. He was always after another chance to get a leg up. Another day, another mark and then he would have been off to greener pastures.

I loved my brother, but he was always going to try to find a way to not be labeled as a foster kid.

Mr. Holdt would have been that kind of opportunity that drew him into the spider’s web before swallowing him whole.

That was what he’d done, drawn me in before turning the tables on me. Now, I was under his control with no way out.

He knew everything he needed to know about me. All of the things he’d asked about me were to make sure that I would be willing to go along with his sinister intentions.

This job was being used as a cover for something other than a assistant’s position. I just hadn’t picked up on it then.

Instead, I’d raced headlong into a situation and ignored all the red flags because I’d been certain that I could do what the FBI hadn’t been able to do. Clearly, I wasn’t built for intrigue and espionage.

Everything about this screamed ulterior motive, but what would motivate someone that had everything?

The darkness was his way to exert his control over me.

He’d even planned the bumpers on the couch and other furniture. They’d been put on all the sharp edges so that when it was dark, I wouldn’t run into things and hurt myself.

Devious and yet so intelligent. Why was I even more attracted to him because he’d cared enough to make sure I wasn’t hurt?

A laugh started coming out of my mouth. Once it began, it couldn’t be stopped. Hysterical, emotional, and unable to be controlled, the days of ups and downs were taking a toll on me.

The humorous aspects of the situation couldn’t be ignored.

Then my laugh turned to tears, and I began to sob. I finally shattered.

All the emotions I’d held back came pouring out. It was as if a dam had broken inside me and I had to get it all out. Every last tear I’d kept from erupting managed to spew.

The month of going through Andy’s effects, trying to find his murderer, and now the time spent in a dark basement had pushed me over the edge.

I was crazy. There could be no other answer for my actions.

His kindness, even in the midst of whatever he was planning for me, had taken me by surprise. Andy was the only person that had ever tried to do nice things for me.

Just when this man was trying to get inside my head, it drew me toward him more. He’d taken the one person that I cared about and appeared to be replacing him without even realizing it. Was this the beginning of Stockholm? I’d been so starved for any sort of affection that when I lose the one person to ever give me any tenderness, I replace it with no problem.

Well, he’d done it. My head was an open roadmap for him, it just wasn’t going to be in the way he’d first thought.

I had never let myself cry as a foster kid. Sure when I was under five, a few tears leaked out when one of the kids would tease me. After a few times, I learned that it didn’t do any good to show weakness. They just used it against me.

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