Page 32 of Tangled In Lies

I can’t figure out what that would have made him in my life. Would he have been the villain of my story, or would he have been my salvation after all, just not in the way either one of us could have ever predicted?

The backs of my eyes burn, but I’m not sure anymore if it’s because he almost ended my life or because he didn’t.

This whole time, Phoenix stares at me, the frown on his face etching deeper into his skin.

Maybe he’s starting to see what a nutcase you are.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I’m not sure anymore what’s better.

He probably thought he’d get a “well-trained” socialite princess as a future wife, someone like my sister. Instead, he ended up with me.

Too bad I didn’t come with a warranty.

Phoenix grabs my arm and pulls me with him. “Come on, we need to finish our conversation from this morning.”

We head out of the building and back into the main house. Up a flight of stairs and a few turns toward his wing, and we enter a large office that screams masculinity with its dark wooden furniture and leather scent in the air.

Phoenix deposits me in front of an oversized armchair and says, “Sit.”

I humor him and listen.

He moves around the spacious desk and sits behind it.

He’s a living visual contradiction in his gym clothes with sweat glistening on his skin, sitting behind the executive desk in this grand office. It’s almost like a child playing dress-up.

The computer screen illuminates his elegant features as he ignores me and stares at whatever is in front of him.

A mechanical crackling sounds from all around me.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” The female voice echoes around the room.

All life drains out of me.

Despite knowing exactly what’s coming next, my heart still goes into overdrive, and I can’t stop it.

“A man is being held hostage in the 2338 West Forrest Avenue warehouse. Come quickly.” My voice sounds shaky but is easily identifiable.

I’ve often wondered why I didn’t think to muffle it somehow.

Probably because you were scared shitless and your brain didn’t work right.

I made the call mere minutes after I’d heard the news from my father.

“Evangeline, your sister was in a car accident. She didn’t make it.”

Just like that. He’d patted my shoulder once, then left my room.

A text message came moments after.

Freddy

See what you did, pet? Maybe you should have done what I asked you to do the first time. Now, make the call. A man is being held hostage in the 2338 West Forrest Avenue warehouse.

A single tear runs down my face.

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