Page 34 of A Secret and a Lie
As I turn the pages, I flip through some of the older secrets inked on the paper in a code only I can decipher. Secrets like,I slept with the President last term, and my wife doesn’t know, I take money from Kazakhstan and do their bidding,as well as,I’m responsible for the deaths of twelve people and my boss knows about it.
Others include things like, when I’m fucking my wife, I imagine it’s my mother-in-law, andthe missing money from the defense budget is in my bank account.
There’re even a couple of secrets like,the President’s Chief of Staff has secret meetings with little boys,andthe governor of Kansas visits Sweden every three months to engage in sex with minors.
If Milton’s ominous warning is to be believed, it’s not going to be enough to stay cautious. Knowledge is my weapon of choice, and for the first time, I’m going to use it. After all, my clients have sold their bodies and their minds to the Devil, and sooner or later, she always collects.
And I know just where to start.
Staring at the page, I trace the words one last time before reaching for my phone. My finger hovers over the number that will change the tide of this war. Eventually, I dial and say a silent prayer that I’m not making an epic mistake. This will either work spectacularly or land me in a seat so hot that I’ll have to shapeshift into a phoenix just to survive the inferno.
Good thing I have experience rising from the ashes.
“Holy fuck!This was you, wasn’t it?” Corinne exclaims, bursting into my office. Spinning my chair to face her, I keep my face impassive as she waves a newspaper, when all I want to do is smile. Without looking, I know what it says. It’s the biggest news story since Vera Choi was found dead in her home.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” I reply lightly, feigning ignorance.
She grins, her face bright with mischief, before wordlessly shutting my door and taking the seat across from me. Just like my playroom, my office is soundproof, but since clients aren’t allowed in here, I’m sure there aren’t any bugs. I know because Marcus and I both do weekly sweeps.
“Have you heard from him yet today?”
I smile then, letting the expression consume my face. “No, but I will. Samuel Choi won’t appreciate that I aired his laundry.”
Undoubtedly, Choi is busy doing damage control, but I’m certain that I’m on his list of people to visit today. I’m ready for it. Perhaps I should’ve given him a chance to explain to me why he was questioning Liam about my affairs, but I don’t have time to waste. I needed to send a message…to everyone.
I could’ve publicized Milton’s secret, but I wasn’t keen on highlighting the fact that he’s dead. Especially since I already had Donna Hensley call in some favors on my behalf to bury him and his ties to me. It was faster to go through her than the Metropolitan Police Chief this time since she was already on my calendar.
“Nor will any of your other clients,” she points out.
“That’s the point. It was high time I reminded everyone that the threat of disclosure is very real.” Crossing my legs, I reach for my mug of steaming tea and bring it to my lips, before speaking again, “While we’re on the subject, I’m accepting new clients,selectively.”
Her jaw drops, low enough that she could trap flies, before quickly snapping it shut once more. I know what she’s thinking. I haven’t opened my books once since Corinne became my assistant eight years ago. Sure, I’ve filled in for some of the people who work for me occasionally in last-minute or crisis situations, but I’ve never truly opened my books.
“I’ll comb through the waitlist and let you know who you can extend an invitation to.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” I lie, touched by her concern, and force a smile to the surface of my lips so that I might ease her anxiety. It’s time to forage for answers as to who’s hunting me. I’m all but certain there’s a man behind the curtain looking to take me down. I just don’t know who that is.
I don’t have another choice.
It’s time I trade a few of the secrets I’ve been hoarding.
Genevieve
The door shuts behind me with a softsnickas I step inside my playroom. Soft, feminine laughter filters through the space like specks of auditory glitter. Sloane sits across from Ford, both with bottles of water clutched in their hands. They seem comfortable, familiar together, and I find that oddly unsettling.
One way or another, this needs to be our final lesson.
“Good evening,” I greet them, striding closer in my sky-high black stilettos. I didn’t bother changing for their lesson today since my role is simply bystander and instructor, not participant.
“Hello, Madam Allison,” Sloane purrs, her gaze dropping with her chin reverently.
The heat from Ford’s ocean-blue irises tracks me with an intensity that might cause my skin to steam if I don’t look away. Even as I shift my attention to Sloane, his gaze follows me. “We’re covering bondage today, but we’ll be sure to stay away from the cross, since that’s a soft limit of yours.”
“Actually,” Sloane begins, her voice timid and her fingers twisting in her lap. “If we’re doing bondage tonight, I’d… I think I’d like to try the cross.”
I follow her line of sight toward the St. Andrew’s cross on the opposite side of the room and ask, “Tell me why you’d like to try it.”
