Page 62 of A Secret and a Lie
Genevieve
“Ihave a new client for you,” Leo informs me, his voice carrying through my bathroom from my phone’s speaker. “I’ll send you the meeting instructions, but you’re to be at his house at seven tonight. Give him your best, and don’t be late.”
I roll my eyes, but mutter, “Yes, Leo.”
“Let this be a reminder of the power I hold over you. I trust we won’t have any furtherissues, Genevieve.” With that, he hangs up. A few seconds later, an email pings in my inbox.
One line into the email, I realize that the client is Grady Blandon, the current Speaker of the House.Fucking hell.
Unease swims in my gut, my stomach bottoming out the more of the email I scan. Something tells me that I shouldn’t take this client, no matter what Leo demands. But that’s not an option, not if I want to escape this hellish hamster wheel I’m on.
“Are you working tonight?” Corinne asks, coming to stand in the doorway as I apply my mascara.
“Yep, Leo just gave me a new client. Are you?”
Her exhale is audible. “I’m heading out to meet Martin. I’ll wait up for you. If we don’t finish too late tonight, we could hit up that bar we like a couple blocks away.”
Turning in her direction, I smile. “If you’re with Martin, I’m sure I’ll be the one waiting on you.”
She groans, but the corner of her mouth twitches. We’ve developed a system where we never go to bed without laying eyes on the other first. We have a plan if one of us doesn’t come home, too. It’s not a great one, but there’s still a plan.
“How are your bruises?”
After screwing on the cap of my mascara tube, I lift my t-shirt to reveal lacy black panties to show her the mottled skin over the bottom of my ribcage. Most of the dark blue has faded into yellow over the last few days, and I think I can get away with this now.
She sighs with a shake of her head. “Good luck with the newbie,” she comments. After a moment, she smiles, adding, “How’s the internet hottie?”
He’s got to be hot, right? It’d be utterly tragic if he wasn’t. I snigger, rummaging through my small bin of lipsticks. “I think things are heating up.”
“Fucking finally,”she exclaims, clapping her hands together, making me grin as I swipe on my lipstick.
Corinne is the only person I’ve told about @livingh3ll. She’s been in the loop since we first exchanged messages, and she’s been convinced from the start that we were meant for each other. I’ve been slower to accept that, but there’s no denying the pull I have to him and the fluttery sensation that accompanies each of his messages. At this point, almost nothing could keep me from talking to him.
I spend the next few minutes dolling myself up and styling my long onyx hair into loose beach waves. I always wait until the evenings, after work, when I can curl up in bed with my emotional support messages, basking in the giddy feelings that the words on the screen elicit. However, once I’m dressed in a silk dress and strappy heels, I can’t seem to stop myself from opening my computer screen to check if @livingh3ll has answered me yet.
He hasn’t.
Sometimes it’s days before he gets back to me, occasionally it’s a week. Still, a bubbly, nervous excitement flutters through me when I think of what he might say.
I’ve yet to be so forward in our messages. While I’m struggling to bring myself to regret it, I don’t know what I’m going to do if it scares him off.
Rolling my shoulders back, I paste on my most submissive smile. As I’m raising my fist to knock on the frosted glass of the front door, I hear the latch turn just before I make contact.
The door opens to reveal a handsome man whose face is plastered all over the news these days. Grady Blandon is in his late forties with greying temples and a smooth jaw. Objectively, he’s good looking, but there’s a smarmy snake lurking beneath his tailored exterior.
“Genevieve,” he presumes, and I force my smile to widen as I nod.
He steps aside, and I catch the way his silver wedding ring glints in the warm porch lights as I step through the doorway. He wouldn’t be my only married client. I never ask questions, and I don’t judge. Glass houses and all that.
The door closes behind me with an audiblesnick,and I stiffen slightly.
“Follow me,” he orders, and I obey, my heels clacking over the tiled floor as he leads me through his modern, luxury home.
He’s only one of a handful of clients who’s asked to see me at their home. Usually, they opt for a hotel, which is fine by me. I prefer it, actually. It’s more public. I don’t have any bartering chips at the moment, though, so negotiating with Leo on the location of tonight’s meeting wasn’t on the table.
We wind through the dimly lit home until we step into the living room. I drop my purse into a chair when I realize this is the destination. Getting the impression that he’s going to prefer feeling in charge here, I remain quiet as he pours himself a drink, tequila, judging by the smell.
When he turns back around, he remarks, “I thought we could take the evening to get acquainted and see if we might be a good fit.”
