Page 39 of Killer Knows Best

The night feels colder than usual, but I’m used to that now.

Denver always has a mean bite to it once fall rolls in. But tonight it feels as if I fell in a lake and am forced to walk through frozen tundra. My skin feels numb, my bones feel brittle as candy canes as if they’ll snap off in a moment’s notice.

Although cold is nothing new. Not for me. I’ve been out on the streets before.

But when people hear my name these days they don’t think of someone who is hard-pressed. They think of someone well off, so well off they’re living as a true-blue one percenter.

In truth, I’m a high-end escort.

That’s right.

If you want to be with me, you’d better pony up a giant wad of cash. I’m top dollar.

You wouldn’t know it to look at me, though. Most of Denver’s elite think I’m one of them—a polished socialite with money to burn, attending ritzy charity galas, sipping pricey champagne, all for the sake of looking the part. They think I’m old money, that I was born into it.

If only they knew.

But I know and that’s where the fun is. And speaking of fun, I’ve got the city’s power players wrapped around my little finger, and they’re none the wiser.

These men—CEOs, politicians, the kind that own entire blocks of the city—they think I’m just another pretty face in the crowd. A face they can trust, someone who could never understand their secrets, someone who would never dare to expose them.

Ironically, they thinkI’ma philanthropist, donating my time and money to good causes. They think I’m someone they can show off, maybe even brag about later at their country clubs.

If they only knew how far I’ve come to sit at their table, how far I’ve dragged myself up from the gutter.

But I wasn’t alwaysMarsha Warren. They say my name as if it’s a prize, but if only they knew it started as a curse.

No, once upon a time, I was just another nameless secretary in a high-rise office downtown, one of a hundred girls working for men who promised the world and left you with the bill. I was that girl—the one they swore they’d leave their wives for. They told me I was different, special.

Yeah, right. All I ever got were empty words and broken promises.

Every single one of them, they all played the same game.

“I’ll leave her for you,” they’d say with a sincere nod like they meant it. “You’re the only one who makes me feel alive.” And I’d believe them because I was desperate to.

I was desperate for something real. But it was all lies. In the end, they went back to their wives, their perfect lives, and I was left wondering what the heck I was doing with mine.

I didn’t realize how much power I was giving them—letting them use me. Letting them think they could have everything without giving anything back. That’s when something snapped.I wasn’t going to be their plaything anymore. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s fool.

I started playing the game by my own rules. If I was going to be used, I’d make damn sure I got something out of it. That’s when I met Kiki. She found me in some dive bar downtown, nursing a drink after another day of being invisible. She took one look at me, saw through the whole act, and offered me a way out. Showed me how to take control and more importantly how to stop letting men like them call the shots.

It was like flipping a switch.

One minute I was just another office girl, and the next, I was in charge. Kiki introduced me to her world—the world of high-end clients who’d pay top dollar for someone like me. I was someone who knew how to play the part, someone who knew how to make them feel like they had all the power when really, they had none. All they had was my power on borrowed time and I made sure it cost them a mint.

I was finally in control. I had men crawling over each other for a chance to be with me, men who’d do anything just to spend an hour in my company. And it wasn’t just the money, though I made plenty of that. It was the power. The feeling that I was the one calling the shots. I wasn’t the victim anymore. I’m in the power position. I’ve even garnered an assistant to help me with all the social nonsense someone in my position demands. My,my, how the tables have turned.

Now, I have more money than I know what to do with, and the people of Denver think I’m priceless. They think I’m just another rich witch with too much time on her hands, throwing charity galas and hosting fundraisers.

They think I’m untouchable.

And maybe for once they’re right.

Tonight, I’m on my way to meet one of the richest men in the state. A billionaire, married, of course, but what else is new?They’re all married. It doesn’t stop them from calling me. It doesn’t stop them from sliding into my bed like they’ve earned the right. But that’s fine. I don’t care. They all come to me in the end, and that’s what’s important.

Tonight’s event is private and very exclusive. He’s throwing some sort of party, and I know exactly why I’m invited. I’m not there to sip champagne or make small talk with his guests. He and I both know what’s going to happen. He’s been calling me for weeks, begging me to come, begging to have me. And according to the offer he made, he thinks I’m worth it.

Kiki will get a cut. She always does. There’s no middleman between us like with a lot of her other clients. We’re just two women working the system to our advantage. But I’m building my list. I have my regulars. And word is getting out to all the right people. I won’t be needing Kiki for long. I feel safe enough to go on my own. It’s not like I’m meeting up with psychopaths. I might be on the road to hell, but I’ve yet to meet up with a devil.

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