Wild Dirty Secret(19)

He stared at me for a moment and then burst into a laugh. “Bet your cop shit a brick.”

Sure, right before he promised to turn me in. “Do you have to find this amusing?”

“Tell me you did it, that you murdered some bastard.” He was grinning. “Fuck, you didn’t. Oh, that would have made my night.”

“You really are perverted.”

“I know.” He sobered. “They would have deserved it, if you’d done it. But okay, to business. Who knows you’re here—anyone?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we were followed. If we were, there would have been cops knocking on the door by now.”

“Sweetheart, cops know better than to knock on my door.”

A smile tugged at my lips. Was that what I sounded like? “You’re an ass.”

“Go.”

He pulled me to standing and pushed me gently toward the door.

“Get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning. And if we don’t, you can just live here forever.”

There was a note in his voice that said he wouldn’t mind that outcome too much; I shivered. As I shut the door, he was still chuckling to himself. “My little murderer,” I heard him say.

I slipped through the hallways, the shadows both foreign and familiar, but I turned away from the cold guest room I’d been assigned. Metal stairs shook under my weight as I climbed up to the observatory. Philip’s mansion was like a life-size dollhouse, made for play, not living. But there were a few perks, and the stargazing nook at the top of the tower ranked high among them.

I nestled among the pillows there, hoping that whatever girls Philip had brought in to replace me hadn’t found this spot. The thought of another person’s left-behind hair and skin and fluids on the pillows, of touching those things, was enough to mar the experience—almost. At least until I let out a breath and looked up at the sky.

At first I had thought it was stupid to build an observatory in the heart of Chicago, where only a few stars ever pierced the blanket of smog and bright city lights. But one night, after leaving Philip’s bed, I had slunk up here like a dog hiding away to lick her wounds.

The small windowed room gave me space to fall apart. The endless black expanse above let me do it in privacy.

I still smarted where Philip’s hands had smacked me, where his cock had branded me. Small acts, almost innocent compared to what I had done in the past, but it felt all new to me now. All dirty and so wrong, when it was with anyone but Luke.

And Luke. Oh, Luke. I had called Philip perverted, which was accurate enough, considering. But here I had access to a face chiseled from marble, and I wanted the one studded with stubble. Here I lay swathed in silks, wishing they were coarse blue cotton sheets instead.

Why did he have to turn on me so quickly, after what I had done for him? I supposed that showing up so late, frantic and with a black eye, it was conceivable that I had just committed murder.

Although, after the messages he’d left me, I believed he didn’t mean for us to be hurt. A small comfort, when he might have gotten us killed. He trusted the system too much. He thought his precious fucking colleagues would exonerate me if I was innocent.

Maybe that was the problem. I didn’t just want him to believe in me. I wanted him to think the worst and protect me anyway.





Chapter Ten





A quiet drizzle pattered the windows above me in a gentle morning song. I wandered back to the guest rooms. Ella’s room was empty. I checked my assigned room in case she’d come to wait there. Empty as well, but there was a tray with still-warm coffee sitting beside the bed on a side table.

The closet door lay open, revealing a few of my clothes. Damn, and my favorite pair of jeans. Philip must have held them back when he sent the rest of my stuff. Figured, the sadist.

I checked my clutch, which was now minus my phone. Since the cash was intact, that meant Ella hadn’t found my stash. So who had taken my phone? Maybe Philip. More likely it was Adrian, acting on his orders. It could have felt violating, to have so little left and then have it taken. But a sense of melancholy still muted my emotions, and I embraced it.

Get dressed. Wash up.

I went through the motions, almost able to pretend I was still Philip’s mistress, that I’d never left this unexpected haven. That I wasn’t now responsible for a hurt young woman whose life was in danger.

At least until I heard Philip bellow my name from below. After a small moment of regret for my undeserved peaceful morning, I started down the stairs.

Ella ran smack into me at the bottom, full of indignant sniffles. “Fucking bastard. I hate him!”

My melancholy was over—interrupted, at least. “What did you do?”