Page 32 of Pretty Cruel Love

“One: Don’t ever lie to me. Two: If you step out of line again, I’ll take that as a sign that you don’t believe in what I’m doing, and I’ll remain on my side until your stay is finished.”

“And three?” I draw a slow, unsteady breath as he presses his thumb against my bottom lip.

“Stop tempting me to fuck you, especially when the cameras are rolling.”

“I haven’t?—”

“In the shower,” he says. “You moan my name in the shower when you’re touching yourself.”

“I didn’t realize…” I can feel all the blood rushing from my face. “I thought the cabin was soundproof.”

“From the outside.”

“I thought no one could see me.”

“They can’t, but you wanted me to, right?”

Silence.

I want to tell him he’s wrong—that I wasn’t moaning for him, but we’d both know I was lying.

He pulls his fingers off my skin one by one, as if he knows—I know, too—that if I told him I won’t say a word, he’d cross the line and fuck me in a heartbeat.

I’d happily let him.

“Glad we’re back to our scheduled program.” He stands up from the couch and holds his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Dr. Weiss?” a loud male voice says. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Sheldon. The password is—” He pauses, looking at me like he’s worried I’ll use it. “It’s the year we hosted the hummingbird study plus two hashtags plus ‘OLI’ in uppercase and ‘pc’ in lowercase. You can roll the monitors via live feed now.”

“You mean live for us, but still the delay for everyone else, or live for all?”

“The former.”

“Will do. That was quick and impressive behavioral work with Miss Pretty, sir. You know, one of the things I love about?—”

Dr. Weiss stuffs his phone into his pocket while the guy continues speaking.

He looks like he wants to say something to me, like he wants to stay here on my side a little while longer, but he shakes his head and walks away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sadie.”

13

SADIE

Back “then”…

Flash! Click-click! Flash!

An officer snaps a few final pictures of my blood-soaked hands before escorting me into an empty interrogation room.

Thankfully, he was nice enough to let me slip out of my clothes hours ago, but he only offered a paper poncho in exchange. He claimed they didn’t have any available sweatpants.

I rock back and forth for what feels like forever, watching the hands tick by on the clock above the door.

After two hours, the door finally opens, and a detective joins me inside.

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