Page 68 of Depraved Truths

I take a deep breath and nod in agreement. How can this man flood my mind and body so completely that I’m distracted from something that’s been coming for a long time?

“Swallow! It’s time to go, love,” Bryce calls loudly from the other room.

Tugging the dress into place, I smooth the fabric with my hands to straighten it.

We’re heading out the door when I swear I hear him mutter, “Swallow… I have something you canswallowlater.”

Pulling into the driveway of the obnoxiously large mansion in my rented Range Rover, I’m pleased to see that the fundraising event has attracted a large crowd, which is good for me because I can blend in easily. As far as anyone is concerned, the rental is in the name of Anna Davenport. I climb out of my car and hand my keys to the valet. He’s too busy staring at my breasts to take much note of my face—typical man behavior. I inwardly groan and hold back my usual feminist retort. Another man scans the evite invitation on my phone, courtesy of Bryce. It helps to have a hacker for a friend. Tonight, I’m playing the role of the wife of an entrepreneur with new money who is eager to rub elbows with the elites. He nods at me to go through.

There must be nearly five hundred people here. The expansive grounds are littered with men and women dressed to the nines. The butler opens the door, and I enter the foyer. A server carrying a tray of champagne walks by, and I grab a glass. I’m not particularlynervous, but this is a dangerous game I’m playing, and this isn’t my typical method of hunting.

“Take a deep breath,” a voice sounds in my ear. It’s Bryce. A small earpiece keeps me updated with any information I need. I almost feel like I’m in aJames Bondmovie. I catch a glimpse of Gabriel out of the corner of my eye. He looks quite dashing in his security attire. No wonder Bryce fell hard for him.

Most guests are in the large ballroom, but several canopies are set up outside around the expansive inground pool. Perfect white tablecloths and fine dinnerware cover large rectangular tables, probably costing more than my annual salary.

Scanning the crowd, I seek out my stalker, who is conversing with an older couple. Our eyes meet briefly before I look away and continue my search. We decided to arrive separately. I’d hoped he would stay at the hotel with Bryce, but he insisted on attending.

It’s inside the ballroom where I find him, William Hunt, the bane of my existence. The monster who stole my innocence and haunted my nightmares.

It’s been sixteen years, but he seems to have barely aged. Botox probably. He’s about fifteen pounds heavier, but still in good shape for a man in his late fifties. At his side is his loving wife, Tammy. My heart hurts for her. She has no idea what kind of man she lives with. At least, I hope she’s unaware. A touch of guilt hits me, knowing the fallout from this will affect her. But he must be stopped. He will not live to see another sunrise. Trying to blend in, I move through the crowd, pausing only briefly to chat with a few guests. But when I head toward the ladies’ room, I freeze, and my breath catches in my chest. Before me stands a familiar couple—a man with steel-gray eyes and dark hairstreaked with silver, accompanied by a petite blonde wearing a stunning plum-colored evening gown.

It hadn’t occurred to me they would be here. Of course, my parents would be at an event like this. Panic surges through me, and I hurry to the restroom. To my relief, it’s empty, and I quickly slip into a stall, my stomach tied in knots. If anyone could recognize me, it would be them.

“Bryce,” I hiss quietly. “You didn’t tell me my parents were on the guest list.”

“Shit, I didn’t think they were coming. They didn’t RSVP. Sorry, Swallow.”

Eli’s voice cuts in. “Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. And I’m nearby if you need me.”

“I’ll check the cameras to make sure no other unexpected guests are here,” Bryce responds apologetically.

“Okay, okay. We move forward.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to reassure more, them or myself. “It’s just that seeing them took me by surprise.”

The sound of a door opening startles me, but relief washes over me when I hear a couple of women chatting about the fundraising event. After taking a calming breath, I flush the toilet— which I hadn’t used— and move to the sink to wash my hands. Satisfied with my appearance, I head for the door, only to come face to face with a pair of familiar pale blue eyes. I step back, unable to hold her gaze and look away.

“I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, offering a serene smile as I meet her eyes again.

“No worries,” I reply, offering a quick smile as I inch around her and toward the door.

“Wait. Do I know you?”

A knot forms in my throat. “I don’t think so.” She looks puzzled. It’s been ten years since I last saw my mother. She’s still slim—only a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet—but she’s aged. Fine lines, wrinkles, and a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, dear. My mistake. You look so familiar.”

Offering a polite yet indifferent smile, I say, “You have a wonderful evening,” as I dash out. That was far too close.

I discreetly move to the sidelines to watch the scene. The coordinator speaks into the microphone, praising Hunt and all the generous donations they have received. The speech drones on, but finally, he’s introduced and addresses the audience.

My eyes track his every movement as I inch closer to the front of the crowd. Drawing from the two acting classes I took in college, I brace myself for what’s coming. It’s difficult because just hearing his voice makes my skin crawl.

I saunter forward, letting my hips sway. I want to be sure I’m in his line of sight. The man is a fiend, and will fuck anything that walks, with or without their consent. The thought of William being around children is sickening, he’ll have unobstructed access to them and the perfect opportunity to target those that fit his needs and the needs of his clientele. His eyes land on me mid-speech, and I smile slyly as I take a slow sip of my champagne. He pauses briefly, and I don’t miss the flare of his nostrils before he continues speaking. I make my way to the bar as he walks offstage. It’s hard not to cringe as I feel him staring.You can do this, Tess.Pretend this is just some average Creepy Joe looking to get his rocks off.

I’m sipping a martini from the bartender when the scent of cologne hits my nostrils. I stifle a shudder as memories from my childhood flood me.

“Hello, darling. I don’t believe we’ve met,” William drawls, his voice thick as molasses. Swallowing, I turn toward him. His blue eyes wander down from my lips to my ample curves.

“Governor Hunt,” I gush. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

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