Page 124 of Secrets & Lies

“Dr. Marcel, please don’t do that.”

“I heard that game night was a bit rough. They can get a little overwhelming for first timers.”

“Of course you’d know about game night. Why am I not surprised? It was electric, exciting, wicked, and then it wasn’t,” I mumbled, torn between wanting to hang up and turn my phone off or talk to him more about that night.

“I understand you were disappointed and wished things ended differently. The rush of emotions—”

“The only thing I wish is that I’d never met the Death Squad. I wish I didn’t dream about the Reaper’s hand around my throat, the Crow’s dancing green eyes, or the sharp tip of the Blade’s knife tracing my nipples,” I whispered, letting the tears fall.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Sometimes we meet people who challenge us, force us to take a look at ourselves, and that can be uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t how I’d describe it. More along the lines of horrifyingly eye-opening and confusing. I need to be done with the Kings.”

I went out to get some water, my mouth suddenly so dry. I saw the other package and decided to open it. Pulling out the bubble wrap, I saw a god-awful red lingerie set. It was plastic-looking, gaudy, and made me feel cheap, and I wasn’t even wearing it.

My cheeks burned, and I dumped the rest of the contents out of the box. A hideous, thick black collar and book fell out. There was a note that read:

I’ll be there soon. Put the lingerie on and wait for me. Place the collar at your feet.

I stood there, phone clutched in my hand, while the world seemed to fall away around me. Marcel’s voice, which had been firm and insistent just a moment ago, now faded into the background. It was distant and muffled as if a confirmation that he was on the other end of the earth from me.

My gaze was fixed, unblinking, on the note and the contents of the package. It lay before me, a chilling reminder of the darkness that had once been my reality. Panic rose within, and Marcel’s voice became even more distant as I retreated.

“Ms. Taylor, did you hear me?”

I stared in horror at the card in my hand. And seriously, what was wrong with this man? He had the gall to ignore me for weeks, and then what? Send me a package that was disgusting and unwarranted? My mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“Why would he send me something like this? What in the fuck is wrong with him?” I finally answered, finding my voice.

“With Alek and the guys? Nothing that I’m aware of. I know they are still investigating things. That is why you aren’t quite done with them yet.”

Dr. Marcel’s voice had gone back to being controlled and mellow. He didn’t understand what I was looking at. If he knew, maybe…yeah, he would help me now, surely.

“Dr. Marcel, I honestly need your help.” I shook with anger, both at myself for encouraging Alek in subtle ways despite knowing what he was into. And then at Alek for sending me this gift.

“That’s why I’m calling. I’d love to help you process your feelings.”

He continued speaking. His well-meaning words were nothing more than frustrating advice. Exasperation consumed me, and I wanted to scream. It wasn’t entirely his fault; it wasn’t like he could see through my phone.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m looking at a package from your friend. Let me take a picture and send it to you so you get why I need your help,” I hissed into my phone.

I arranged the items on the table, gagging at the title of the book,Extreme Sex Slave Rules and Regulations. Seeing it next to the collar made me lightheaded. I snapped it and sent it to him. There was a pause before he spoke again.

“There’s no way in hell Alek sent you that package. I get he has crossed some boundaries with you, but nope. Again, there’s no way he would do something like that. He fucking knows better. It’s not his style, both in taste and approach. Not to mention that’s not a dynamic he’d ever be into.”

“You expect me to believe that? You haven’t seen him with me. Did he tell you what he said to me? That he wanted to…to…What the hell is wrong with him?” I asked, feeling lost.

“I know my friend, and there is no way in hell he’d approach a potential relationship like that with you. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Jesus, what the hell has he told you about the regular who was coming into the café? Did the package come in the mail? Is your door locked?”

“The regular? I don’t understand,” I stuttered.

“Is your door locked? Answer me, Ms. Taylor. When did you receive it?” he asked, his voice tense and firm.

“What do you mean? Yes, my door is locked. It was mailed,” I breathed, feeling faint.

“That regular that Alek originally asked you about, he was potentially casing you. You know what young girls get cased for. Surely, you can understand their concern.”

“Casing me?” I asked, trying to ensure I heard him correctly. Panic began to set in. I should never have taken his call.

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