Page 102 of The Secrets That Kill

“You look incredible, Ivy.”

The pleasure at me calling her by her name and not Pollyanna is bright in her eyes. That’s because she doesn’t understand my selfish reason.

The restaurant isn’t far, and the table I requested is ready for us. The act of nice Mercer, gentleman Mercer, date Mercer is both easy and difficult, especially when Ivy falls into it all without a thought of my agenda.

I know the moment that cocksucker Trenton walks in because she immediately stiffens and the color drains from her cheeks.

I also hate myself a little for doing this to her.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She turns her gray-green eyes on me. “He’s here.”

“Who?” I frown. “Henderson? But?—”

“Mr. Trenton.”

“Do you want to go?”

She nods. “I don’t want to talk to him and he’s walking over here.”

“Then we’ll go.”

“But the bill?—”

“Ivy. I’ve got an account here.” Lies. I don’t. I set it up that the table I booked was paid for ahead. I paid for one of everything on the menu with the understanding we wouldn’t be staying.

Because I knew what was going to happen.

I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her out of the restaurant, making sure I make hard eye contact with the piece of shit on the way out.

On the street, I smooth a hand down the side of her face. “Let’s go to a club and have a drink. We don’t need to do anything. Just be seen.”

“Anything you want.”

Her voice quivers.

I pretend to ignore it.

The club we visit first is pretty soft-core. I ply Ivy with a couple of drinks because she’s still shaking even though she won’t say anything more about seeing Trenton. I also keep my arm around her because men are staring at her.

It’s a mistake, coming here. The way she looks like a combination of sex and innocence is too much for these animals. They want what’s mine, and if they touch, I’ll fucking destroy them all.

She asks me mindless questions about my work, and I give her evasive answers. This is just filler, the boring small talk she needs to calm her from seeing Trenton.

It was a fucked-up move on my part, but I had to do it. I needed to be sure that she hated him, that what he did to her was in fact something she didn’t want, no matter what she told me. She parroted the things a much older man told a young girl to groom her to be his plaything.

Her visceral reaction isn’t something that can be faked.

Now I have my answer, and I know my next move.

“Let’s go to O-Ring.”

The drinks have taken effect. She’s not tipsy, just relaxed. Her outfit is perfect for the scene that’ll find us at O-Ring. I get my car and direct the driver to head to SoHo.

Ivy’s fascinated by all she sees once we get to O-Ring. Iwatch her wide eyes take in the activity surrounding us. She slides her ass against me, dragging her hands over my hips.

Fuck, I want her naked.

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