Page 9 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers
Fuck. Me.
I’m taken aback, completely at a loss for words. Trying to gather my thoughts, I pray he doesn’t recognize me because the mortification from that alone would kill me. I’d die right here from shame. Before I can think of anything to say, he breaks the silence.
“Hello, Marie,” he says in a knowing lilt.
My heart drops into my stomach. If I thought I was stunned before, nothing could prepare me for my second realization; he’s also the man I’ve been dancing with. The same man that has been occupying my mind for a week straight and clouding my judgment. I can’t believe I didn’t piece it together before. I think all the blood has left my body now becausewhat. the. fuck?
I blink myself out of my thoughts and take a sharp inhale.You’re a professional, Maeren, act like it. But dammit, they don’t teach you how to deal with seeing someone you secretly get hot and heavy for at your place of work without warning. I clear my throat, not knowing what else to do.
“Hello… Xander, is it?” I ask with a little snark and a lot of confusion.
“Yes, Xander Morris, nice to meet you.Officially.” His words are coated in a layer of annoyance, yet sound a bit predatory. He knows I lied about who I am and he’s caught me. His hand is held out for me to shake and I take it, a familiar jolt rushing through me at the contact. I act unphased even though every inch of skin that touches his feels like it’s a livewire.
I swallow. “Maeren Laughlin, your realtor. Would you like to get started on the tour?”
He offers me a silent nod.
“Right this way.”
I proceed to take him through the house, trying my best to act like he’s a normal client. He’stotally notthat man I’ve been lusting over for the past week and Idefinitely don’tnotice how good he looks, how delicious he smells, and the way hisrich voice vibrates through my body with each word he speaks. I definitely don’t envision what it would be like to lay in the master bedroom together, or spend an evening skinny dipping in the pool. Nope, my mind is pure, clear of all things rated above PG-13.
Okay, maybe that’s a lie. But what can I say? I’m only human.
At the end of the tour I ask him if he has any lingering questions about the home, pricing, placing a bid, et cetera. Anything to avoid the obvious elephant in the room. “I have a question but it’s not about the home,” he says.
Here we go. I bite my cheek, bracing for the impact.
“Okay, feel free to ask,'' I say, propping my hands on my hips while using all my willpower to not die of embarrassment and keep my face neutral. I justknowhe’s going to mention The White Rabbit.
“Why did you lie to me, Maeren? Or should I call youMarie? Do you lie to everyone? Because I really,really hate liars.” His voice drips with venom.
“That is technically three questions, not one,” I snap back, enraged at his audacity to act unprofessional with me right now. Although, I can’t really be surprised, remembering how he talked to me outside of the bathroom, all due to a simple accident. I use that thought to steel myself. He might be hot, but he is still an asshole.
“Answer them,” he states matter-of-factly.
And I’m not sure why, but I do. “I didn’t lie directly. Marie is my middle name and I’m not comfortable giving my actual name out to strangers. It’s really that simple.” I cross my arms and prepare for his rebuttal.
“Strangers…” he says, trailing off, gaze narrowed on me, his hands in his pockets. “Do strangers dance like that with each other?”
My face flushes at his question and I gather myself once more. “They do, it’s actually a normal occurrence at bars and clubs if you were unaware. Maybe you should get out more. I don’t owe you, or anyone else for that matter, anything. Now, do you have any questions pertaining to the house or not, because I have other things to get done today and I am at work, if you couldn’t tell.” Clenching my fists until I feel the sharp bite of nails on my skin, I plaster on a fake smile. Who does he think he is to try and act likeIdid anything wrong?
His face takes on a hard expression but there’s knowing in his voice when he says, “No, that will be all Maeren. I’ll see myself out. It was lovely meeting you face to face, though I much prefer when our bodies meet. We should do that again sometime.” He smirks at that last bit and with my scoff, walks away and out of the front door, leaving me stunned and more confused than ever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
XANDER
Schedulinga showing withMaerenwas a risky decision, but the hunter in me craved the confrontation, and I needed to see her. I needed to make her squirm for lying to me and I think I succeeded.
Maeren was flustered and not only because she felt called out—I know how attracted to me she is. It’s magnetic for the both of us. Still though, she bit me right back like the feisty little viper I know she is, and I fuckingloved it.
I don’t actually need a house, fuck, I don’t even want one. I have a very nice bachelor pad and real estate doesn’t really interest me. But I do have enough money to splurge, enough for me to retire right now if I wanted to, but where’s the thrill in that? Plus I’m sure Maeren could use the commission.
I’ve never claimed to be a generous man but I’d give her anything she could ever want. If she were mine, that is, but she isn’t, and she never will be. But, if shewere, she’d be taken care of for life.
Making between fifteen thousand to fifty thousand per hit, depending on the difficulty and how badly the hirer wants it done, I do well for myself. With fifteen hits a year for the last ten,I have more than enough to get by. I do take care to not alert the IRS, and you can’t exactly claim ‘hitman’, 'serial unaliver for hire’, or ‘professional murderer with a gun’ on your taxes. So I do operate a front; a tech company of my own that helps small businesses make websites. It’s completely unassuming and lets me fly under the radar while reportingsomeof my excess income so as not to raise suspicion from anyone.
I may not be a good man, but I’m a smart one, and that’s what really matters.
