Page 24 of Dirty Little Secrets
“It just…happened,” I lie.
She stops scrolling. Looks at me. “Are you still sleeping with him?”
“Hell, no. I’m done.” The thought alone tasting like this cereal.
“I hope so. It’s like letting a man put his fingers on your throat just because he bought you dinner once in 2019.”
I don’t answer. She’s not wrong. But there isn’t much I can tell her without giving too much away. It’s exhausting lying to someone you care about, especially, if that someone wants the best for you.
Kristina sets her mug down. “You don’t have to live like this, you know. Afraid. Stuck.”
I laugh, but it’s too soft to be convincing. “You think I’m not trying?”
“No,” she says. “I think you’re scared that if you stop, you won’t know what’s left of you.”
That lands somewhere I can’t reach. Deep. Hot. Uncomfortable. I push the bowl away.
She doesn’t mean to be cruel. She just doesn’t get it. She’s never had a man tattoo his name on her future, never owed a favor that doubled as a chain around your neck. Never been told that freedom was a gift she had to earn with her mouth, her time, her silence. She wants me to go out and meet people. Date. But I can’t. Not until Brent forgets I exist. I can’t begin anything with someone that is real without lying to them. I check my phone again. His apartment was a halfway house between prison and my freedom.
Still no match.
Kristina eyes me. “Have you tried the app after your visit at the clinic?”
“I have. Too many times.”
“And?”
I sigh. “Nothing yet.”
She shrugs. “You need something. Even if it’s just temporary. Someone to replace the slump you’re in.”
I nod in agreement. I wish I could tell her it’s not about sex or wanting to be with someone new. I wish I could tell her about my past and why I’m here or how I’m scared. That temporary is a placeholder for control that isn’t real.
A power you borrow just to feel human for five fucking minutes. A temporary high until reality comes crashing into you like a freight train.
But later, when she’s in the shower, I open my laptop again. I check the tunnel. Brent’s tracks still there—digital fingerprints that curl like smoke around everything I touch. He hasn’t messaged me today. That doesn’t mean he’s not watching. I type a command and run a trace. Nothing comes up. Which just means he’s getting better at hiding it.
There’s a notepad on the desk. I flip it open and write something I haven't said aloud in years. “Exit strategy.” Then I cross it out. Because that’s not what this is. This isn’t an escape. This is the road of self-destruction.
14
XAIDEN
Iglance down at my cock tenting my pants. I’ve kept the office door locked since I got back from lunch, afraid I’d drag her in here and do the unthinkable and fuck her on my desk.
I haven’t stopped staring at her since she walked in this morning. But she’s forbidden and I can’t go there with someone like her. She’s too innocent for a man like me. I’m depraved and fucked up. Raised under a different code. I’m not the man you walk down the aisle with. There’s no offer on a house with a white picket fence. I don’t envision myself coming home to children and a wife. Because there’s no room in my life for any of it.
After a few more hours, I rake a hand through my hair, the time on the screen glows. It’s ten p.m., and I’ve been holed up in here coding the program for the McDavid account to replace the one she saw.
Vinny’s trying to stay in my good graces, bringing me business in hopes of a discount. Too bad he blew it at lunch the other day by eye-fucking my secretary. She was too busy trying to impress me but eventually she noticed. I noticed. I always do.
I check her file, still trying to understand how Emma picked her when Kristian pushed her application through as an internal candidate. Her education is subpar compared to everyone else Emma selects. But maybe the Ai caught something I didn’t. She’s smart, sure—but disorganized. Late. And most importantly, not a threat.
There’s a knock. I close her file and check the camera.
I see it’s my best friend Mike. I hit the release, and the lock clicks.
He walks in like he owns the place. “What’s up? How’d the meeting go?”
