Page 62 of Orion Ruined

“They’re on Milan’s payroll,” she adds.

“Wait, what?”

“Maurice Het and Bobby Saunders are on Milan’s payroll.”

“That’s not possible. Bobby’s my right-hand man, my blood. He sleeps in the same room as me. I trust him with my life.”

She blinks at me, incredulous. “You sleep with a man?”

“I’m serious, Maisy. How sure are you of this? Is it possible that you’ve made a mistake? Got the names confused?”

“I’m certain, Logan. I’m sorry.”

I’m starting to see that Maisy’s more valuable to us than we originally thought. I mean, even without her photographic memory she’s worth more to me than anything, but now I see why Orion was so intent on keeping her safe, keeping her here. “Do you know for how long?”

“No. But the date on the document was April last year.”

“What else?” Suddenly the urge to know more, to know everything, overwhelms me. But I clock my addictive streak awakening instantly, and stop myself. “Actually, no, don’t tell me anything else. I want you to rest and forget about today.”

“It’s fine, I’m okay. In the same box as the documents, there was a small yellow teddy bear with the label ‘Baby Logan Moros Vitali.’ Is Moros your middle name?”

“Moros? Not that I know of. I don’t have a middle name. I never met my mother, and my father wasn’t really a talkative guy, especially about shit like that.”

Huh. A teddy bear? That must’ve been mine. I must investigate this. The identity of my mother has tormented me my whole life. I’ve searched for her all over NY and beyond, and now suddenly there’s a bear with my name on it? And why’s Milan been collecting stuff on me?

“Did your father have a girlfriend, or wife?” Maisy asks.

“Everyone working at the strip club was his girlfriend. And if they weren’t, he’d break them and make them. He was cruel in that way.”

“He raised you by himself?”

“There were too many women around when I was growing up. None the motherly type.”

Maisy presses her lips to mine, kissing me tenderly. I wasn’t looking for pity, but I respond; I need her love, her touch. Everything she offers, I want. She’s someone worth living for.

I pull back from her magic, and smile at her. “Come, sit up.”

“Why?”

“I want to take your top off. I’m going to give you a massage to get you to relax.”

She’s looking at me dubiously. “I’m not sure, Logan.”

I hook my fingers under her top. “Trust me, no sex. I want to relieve your stress, and I want to do something for you. I feel useless.”

“You’re not. You’re lying here next to me.”

I bat my eyelashes at her. “For me?”

With playful exasperation, she raises her arms and I pull her top over her head. Her breasts bounce as I free them up, spying those sweet nubs I want to suck on and never let go, but I remind myself it’s not about sex.

“Lie down on your stomach, and stop flaunting your boobs in my face or I’ll have to do something about it,” I chuckle.

She giggles and lies down as told. “And my panties?” she purrs.

“They’re definitely staying.”

She turns her head toward the window, away from everything. I wonder if it’s a sign that she wants to be cut off from reality. “I’m not sure if this will help me,” she mutters.

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