Page 92 of Beautiful Liar

25

OUTTAKE

On Monday, I wake up mid-morning to the news that I’m to have my first colon cleanse. What I expect will be an unforgettable experience has been scheduled for four in the afternoon, according to Stephanie, to allow my body a little time to recuperate from last night’s activities.

I wasn’t carried back to my suite until almost 3am. But unlike the night before, Q left me in the care of Stephanie, who supervised my bath and helped my weary body into bed. I snuffed out in seconds, my mind shutting down from sheer exhaustion, which thankfully left my dreams undisturbed.

I’m wide awake now though, and to stop myself from thinking about what awaits me this afternoon, I decide to go for a swim since I’ve been given a pass from fitness training today. The white bikini set is part of the new wardrobe. As I put it on, I glance at myself in the mirror. Stephanie has taken over Fionnella’s health tracking duties, and reported this morning that I’ve put on eight pounds so far. I can see where my hips and butt are a little plumper and other bones a little less jutting. There’s also a vibrancy to my skin that could be attributed to the lotions and potions that’ve become a part of my pre-sex regime.

Thoughts of sex predictably steers my mind to Q’s near-frenzied ravishing of my body long into the night. He didn’t leave after returning the second time. Nor did his stamina dim even a little bit.

He swore to defile my pussy. And he stuck to his word.

And tonight, he’s moving to other parts of your body.

I push the thought away, turn away from the mirror and pause when I see the other thing that awaited me this morning. The stack of money on my bedside table.

The means to my freedom.

So why does the sight of it sicken me?

Ignoring the question, I pick up the money, return to the dressing room and place it with the stack from yesterday.

I stare at the crisp bills. Two hundred thousand dollars. Probably more than enough to buy myself a deep enough hole to hide in. Except I’ll never be able to stay hidden. Not with the knowledge that Clayton is hunting me.

Certainly not without a means of ensuring that the other secret he’s hunting stays a secret. To do that I, ironically, need to stay in the open.

Going into hiding means I can’t keep an eye on her.

My sister.

Petra.

The daughter Clayton suspects is his. The fifteen-year-old I know is his.

The deathbed promise I made to my mother to protect her from Clayton at all costs still burns fierce in my heart. I hadn’t planned on at all costs involving murder and arson, of course. But I had no choice.

I killed for Petra.

I don’t want to do it again, but there’s no way I’m letting Clay get his hands on her. Petra escaped the fates my mother and I couldn’t. I don’t have a single doubt that should Clay lay his hands on her, he will drag her into his vile world. I don’t intend for that to happen. She’s the reason I had less than a hundred dollars to my name when I fled The Villa. Most of the money I painfully scraped together went into helping her stay in hiding.

The rest bought me a hacker’s services to alter records and forge documents to throw Clay off her scent.

I knew he wouldn’t lose the scent for long. Clay is too clever to be fooled indefinitely. But my efforts bought me three months, until Ridge dropped his bombshell.

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