Page 68 of Cunning Lies
I need proof,Kenzo texts. Heat rises to my neck. I touch myself, thinking of Kenzo’s hands on me, how dirty it is that he’s making me do it right here, right now, and how I’mnotresisting. I’m simply obeying his commands, like a mindless little toy.
For a few seconds, my mind is off of that awkward conversation. All I think about is Kenzo. He knows what I need.
Right before I come, I stop myself and take a picture, then send it to Kenzo, my chest ballooning with lust. I’ve never sent a picture like that to a man before. It’s risky. He can share it with anyone.
But it’s always his choice to expose me like that, and it makes me feel safe. Protected. Worshiped.Loved.
But it’s just a job. An arranged marriage to uncover gun smuggling secrets. Whether or not I want to be involved anymore, I’m orchestrating this con. Uncle Jay is determined to finish it.
I exit the bathroom and bump into Uncle Jay, heading to the men’s room.
“What the hell?” I ask. “Can you at least be a little more subtle about this?”
He motions to the side, and we remove ourselves from the main entryway, hiding by one of the entrances to the kitchen.
“Why be subtle when they’ve killed my son?” he asks. “The client wants intel on their firearms negotiations. We get that, and we’ll be set.”
“They can still kill us,” I argue. “We were just supposed to give the client information about a new deal. Any deal.Nota firearms company. Do you really want to get involved in a gun-smuggling contract? It’s suicide.”
“If you had told me what you knew, we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?” he says, a hint of anger in his tone. I sink down inside of myself, but he pats my shoulder, his partial finger haunting me, a reminder that this can become violent at any second. “Listen, sweetheart. This is it. After this job, we’ll be set. No more hustling. No more conning. No more mafia marriages.” He grits his teeth. “We get this info, and we’ll finally get our dream house on a tropical beach.”
The vibrator buzzes and I jump. Uncle Jay gives me a funny look, and I’m surprised the device works this far away. Maybe it’s Kenzo’s way of telling me to get back to the table.
“They killed Patrick over Shabu Eight,” I lie, but the point is that Patrick is dead for something much less than destroying a huge, multi-million dollar business deal. “What if they come after us?”
“Once we finish this deal, we’ll have so much money we can buy a fuckingfortresson the beach,” he says. “We can destroy them. Hire assassins. I don’t care. But Ineedthis to work.” His jaw clicks. “Patrickneeds this to work.”
Emotion simmers behind his blue eyes, one I’ve never seen before. Sadness, maybe? Anger?
Whatever it is, this must be Uncle Jay’s way of processing what happened with Patrick. And I can’t bring myself to argue anymore.
“Okay,” I say. Uncle Jay finally goes to the bathroom. The vibrator jolts again, and I wince, but then the vibrations subside. A woman in red boots bounds down the hallway.
Cherryis here now too?
“Ah, shit. Almost forgot—” Cherry reaches into a pouch and hands me a small square container. “Wanted to return the favor.”
It’s a small blue package of tampons, almost exactly the same kind I had given to her at the wedding. My jaw drops.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly.
“Had to pay you back,” she says. “Both for the tampons and for the awkward family chat. Kenzo’s got you stocked up on girly things though, right?”
My cheeks turn even redder. “I think so. There’s—”
I’ve scoured the cabinets so many times, you’d think I would know their exact contents, but I don’t. I may have seen a box, but I’m not sure. I’m too shaken up to remember right now.
“Look. You tell him the kind you want, and he’ll get it,” she says. “I sent him out for tampons when I was a teenager. Fucking cramps kept me in bed, right? And I didn’t want to ask my mom because she makes a big deal out of little things. So, I asked Kenzo. He got me twenty different kinds, but hey, he did it.” She tosses her head. “I’m not one to hide my period, even if I did grow up withmen.And you shouldn’t either.”
Growing up, Uncle Jay would get me tampons, but Patrick always complained about the smell of the bathroom when that time came. There were no ‘lessons’ then, and it almost made me happy to be on my period, even if I had cramps and a period-shamer cousin.
“Thanks,” I say sheepishly.
“Let me walk you back to the dining room.”
It’s only when we’re at the door to the private room that I realize that the tampon gesture may not even be about the tampons or paying me back; it may be about checking up on me, since Uncle Jay and I left the room at the same time. But Cherry opens the door for me, and I take a deep breath.
Nothing is going to happen right now. We’re all safe. We just have to get through this dinner.
