Page 18 of Web of Lies
Heat pools in my core as blood pumps into my cock. I tighten my grip on the water bottle, and the plastic cracks under the pressure. She is driving me insane. I clench my jaw and force myself back into bed with her. Because if I stare any longer, I'll crawl between her legs and might fuck her again.
Chapter 10
Riley
I'm standing in front of a coffee shop, the straw trapped between my lips as I sip on my iced caramel latte. I hide from the afternoon sun in the shadow of the shop's awning. Heat shimmers just inches above the hot asphalt. It's the hottest day of the week, and usually I'd prefer to hide in my apartment to avoid yet another sunburn, but here I am, layered in sunscreen.
My gaze sweeps across the street in front of me, scanning every pedestrian walking past me, looking for someone acting out of place. Someone whose eyes linger longer than they should, but so far, no one has displayed out-of-the-ordinary behavior.
I steal a glance at my phone, pulling up the messaging app I use to stay in touch with Jackson. This morning, I woke up to a response from him. I expected a threat, maybe even some instructions, but it was nothing like that. All I received was a simple "okay." Something that gives me absolutely no clue what his next move is going to be. How much time is he giving me? Is he giving me time at all? Instead, I'm left with more question marks than from the original threat.
"Riley." At the sound of my name, I look up from my phone, and I spot Evelyn jogging toward me. Her heels click against the sidewalk, as if running on high heels were a simple walk in the park. Her red summer dress hugs her curves, a purse hangs from her shoulder, and her brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail.
"Eve," A smile spreads across my face. Before she reaches me, I drop my phone into my bag, lower my cup of coffee, step forward, and reach out to pull her into a tight hug.
"It's been too long," she says as she hugs me in return, squeezing me.
"Way too long." I pull back, lace the fingers of my free hand with one of hers. "You should move back here."
"Even though we're here once a month, it's a tempting suggestion." A melodic chuckle slips from her lips, and her smile widens. She lets go of my hand and steps closer, hooking her arm around mine as she guides me away from the coffee shop.
"Maybe once a month isn't enough." I flash her a cheeky smile.
"You're actually right about that. We already extended our monthly stay from three days to five, but it's never enough." She hugs my arm closer to her chest. "You know what? You should take time off and finally come visit me." Her lips purse into a pout.
The thought of visiting her triggers a wave of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Part of me would love to go, but visiting her would mean meeting Noah in person, something I’ve managed to avoid so far. Until now, we have only communicated via email, when he provided me with information. I know that meeting him is inevitable, considering that I'm attending their wedding. However, on that day, he’ll be too busy to pay much attention to me.
Still, the idea of facing him makes my stomach churn. Over the years, I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about what happens to those who challenge him. Those stories paint him as a monster.Yet, I know that fear is irrational and foolish. Evelyn trusts him with her whole heart, and if there’s one person I trust, it’s her.
"Someday, I promise." I shoot her an apologetic smile.
"You've been saying this all summer."
"I know. I couldn't take time off yet." I pull her closer to me. "I'll make time when I can."
"You better."
After another turn, we arrive at the restaurant we used to frequent when Evelyn was living in New York City. The hostess greets us with a warm smile and seats us at an outdoor table, where we sit across from each other. Within minutes of ordering, the server brings us our drinks.
"Now," Evelyn says, sipping her drink. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good," I say, offering her a smile before taking a sip.
"Really?" Her brows furrow.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't look too well," she says, reaching across the table and gently nudging my cheek. "You have dark circles."
My eyes widen, and I reach for my bag, fishing for my mini hairbrush with a mirror, and pop it open. She's right. Despite the layer of foundation and concealer, a subtle shadow shines through, and the swelling of my dark circles pokes out. A groan ripples from my throat, and I flick the brush shut and drop it back into my bag.
"Life has just been a lot lately. Little sleep and lots of overtime." I say, trying to brush it off. "You know how stressful it can be."
"I do," she says, her gaze locked on mine. "Did something happen?"
"No, thank God, no. Everyone is well."
"Then what is so important that you're overworking yourself?"
