Page 33 of Promiscuous Lies

“I’ve learned that you drugged one of our dancers and sold her to a client for the night.” Paulo brought it to my attention the moment the girl broke down to him about it, and we’ve been dealing with the clean-up ever since. The only reason it was able to happen in the first place was because these two were the hired security. I know this is fact because I already carved into and got rid of the client who paid them handsomely for the act. I vet all of those I hire, but sometimes cockroaches like these fall between the cracks.

I tap the edge of the knife against my chin thoughtfully. What should I carve on their chests? I begin with the letter “R,” carefully slicing into the first man’s flesh. He screams as I deeply carve into his chest while explaining to him how he brought this on himself.

I find this relaxing. I’m always running at high tension levels, and a release is necessary. Being in the sex industry, the act of having sex has become fundamentally not essential for me. This, however, satisfies me.

I pause on the second letter—an “A.”

Then again, that was before a certain blonde dancer came across my stage. I try to shake off the lingering thought of Posie because she has no place in what goes on here.

After finishing the “A,” I start with the letter “P.” The man is sweating and screaming, blood running down his chest.

I’m curious how she’d react if she saw this savage side of me. I wouldn’t even allow my little sister to see me like this. Although I know she suspects, she’s definitely heard rumors. She might still love me, but I can’t imagine any woman loving a monster.But it’s too much of who I am. It is too heavily ingrained in my twisted pursuit of justice.

I carve the letter “I.”

When I realize he’s about to pass out on me, I backhand him across the face. He keels over in the chair, blood splattering everywhere. I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh at having to pick him up from the floor and reset him. “Stay with me,” I say to him, slapping his face again.

The chest is my favorite place to write messages. The skin and muscles are thin enough for clear, detailed lacerations. I experimented with other body parts, such as faces, arms, legs, and even genitals, but the chest was the optimal location.

An “S” comes next.

Posie seems like a strong enough woman, but I notice the switch in her when she becomes wary of me as she should. As any sane person should, but some are too distracted by my charming personality to have such caution.

And finally, a “T.”

I curse under my breath as I realize I’m still thinking of Posie. She’s all I’ve been thinking about since I’ve been away. And Ineverhave hang-ups when I travel overseas.

I focus on the man’s screams, trying to drown out all things Posie. Because I don’t want to acknowledge that my deadly obsession might be shifting toward a sassy little blonde who revels in telling me no and has no interest in fucking me. My cock twitches at the thought of tasting her only weeks ago, and I curse again, knowing I’m fucking starved. But the idea of touching any other woman physically revolts me. I have no choice but to ride out this curiosity.

It’s only recently that Posie has been replying to my messages more frequently. That’s to say, she still doesn’t respond to them all. So, I’ll purposefully do things to interrupt her day. If she’s at home, I’ll send lingerie, with the knowledge that she’ll most likely give it to the girls at Pearl. Or food. I know she’ll keep that.

The one thing that’s gotten me everything I’ve wanted in life is tenacity. So I’m not going to give up.

She’s a mystery to me. I know I should hire Will Walker to do a thorough search into her background, but for some reason, it feels like I need to do this myself in the old-fashioned way. I want to figure out the woman who adamantly says no to me so much.

I just didn’t think it’d take me so long. I’ve been unsuccessful in getting her to respond to me, let alone forcing her into submission. So I send her gifts so she’s constantly thinking of me.

It’s three in the morning, and I look out at Rome from the balcony of my room as I sip whiskey. I finalized all my business endeavors and checked up on the new gentlemen’s club, which is earning me a fortune. I’ve expanded the virgin auctions here as well. While my father preferred to keep his auctions strictly in Manhattan, I’ve been focusing on branching out to other locales.

I’ve hired a select few who I can trust, or who at the very least fear the consequences of betraying me, to keep everything in order.

I should shower and get a few hours’ sleep before my flight departs, but instead, I find myself picking up my phone. As I do, the screen lights up.

Finally, she replied.

I’ve noticed that she only replies to things that are work-related, which is irritating. How am I supposed to figure out this little monster if she’s as short and curt as I usually am?

It’s about nine in the evening back in Manhattan, and she’s complained about the cold snap. She’s also sent a link to the platform she’s been working on. I scroll through it, admittedly impressed.

I didn’t care what type of role she chose for herself as long as she wasn’t dancing. I just needed her within my reach to monitor her. I throw back the whiskey and then grab my coat as I hit call.

It rings out, and I grit my teeth as I step out of the elevator and into the main lobby. It’s cold here, too, but I quite enjoy the winter months over the warmer ones.

I call again.

On the sixth ring, she finally answers.

“What?” she growls.

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