Page 181 of Ruin Me With Lies
With that, he jogs off toward his jet.
Bratton’s a longtime friend and business partner.We grew up entangled in each other’s lives thanks to the close relationship between mynonnaand his grandfather.After his grandfather passed, his parents sold the business and moved back to their homeland, Switzerland.We’ve maintained a solid friendship.A wildly successful billionaire with a shit ton of connections is the kind of friendship worth nurturing.
Lars, economical with words as always, drives me to Bratton’s luxury estate without any unnecessary small talk.A butler greets me on the front steps and fills me in on the essentials as he escorts me to the guest quarters.
“Is there anything I can get you, Mr.Castello?”he asks after setting my luggage down.“Something to eat or drink?”
“No, I’m good.Thanks, Philipp.”
“My pleasure.”He nods respectfully.“If you need me or any of the staff, please don’t hesitate to ring the staff line using the numbers on the laminated call card provided.”
Once he’s gone, I walk out onto the balcony overlooking the back of the estate, which stretches out to a lake, framed by craggy, snow-tipped mountains.I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick check-in text to Lorenzo.Then, from my coat pocket, I slide out the small black-and-white photo of the clock tower.
The Zytglogge.
Finally, I’m here.
The last three weeks of wrangling the Koreans felt endless.There are still a few details left to iron out, but I couldn’t wait a moment longer.As soon as the dotted lines were signed, the grants and permits approved, and things were in motion, I was wheels up.
Of all the leads I’ve chased over the past six months, Switzerland was never one of them.And I’ve been as close as Sweden, Germany, France, and Austria.
Is she really here?Or is she pulling my strings again?Did I decipher her clues right?Because I’ve thought about it ad nauseam and come to the same conclusion every time: meet her at the Zytglogge clock tower at 4:44 PM.
It has to be right.Itneedsto be.There’s a buzz under my skin, electric and unshakable, telling me I’m close, that we’re on the same soil, under the same cloudy gray sky.She’s here.
It’s just after seven in the evening now.All I can do is sit tight and count down the hours until tomorrow.
A knock sounds at the door, and I turn to see Angeline—the wife—strutting in.Her tiny white dress fits like a second skin, her well-endowed breasts barely contained by the low-cut neckline.
Angeline’s a smoke show.Always has been.Prestigious.Classy.Sex incarnate.Uninhibited.She’s all woman.
“Stefano Castello,” she purrs, stepping out onto the balcony.“So sorry I didn’t greet you downstairs when you arrived.I was in the shower.”She leans in and kisses me on both cheeks, her hands running down my biceps.“I can’t tell you how much of a pleasure it is to have you here.”
“That’s fine.The staff’s been great.Thanks for accommodating me.”
“Are you serious?You treat us likeroyaltywhen we’re in your city.You’re always welcome here, Stefano.”She spins and leans back against the railing, elbows propped, arching her back so her breasts are damn near spilling over the neckline of her dress.“Dinner is in an hour.Do you have any special requests?”
“This is the Bachmann residence.You don’t do basic,” I say with a chuckle.“I’m sure whatever’s served will be special enough.”
She blinks up at me under long, coquettish lashes, then slowly wets her lips.“Does that mean I can add myself to the menu?”
“By now you should know the answer to that, Angie.”
She grew up with us in Nevada.Same schools, same parties, same circles.Bratton was head over heels in love with her even then.She, on the other hand, had an unrequited thing for me.But Bratton never gave up until he finally won her over.Now they have some sort of open marriage thing going on.He just ran off to help his mistress out with her business, and she’s here trying to get me in her bed.
But I don’t care how cool Bratton is with it.That’s a line I’ll never cross.I’m a damned-soul bastard in a thousand ways, but I’m still a believer.Some things are sacred to me.And marriage is one of them.
Angeline huffs and pouts.“You know, it wassomuch fun riding your twin and pretending he was you.He even let me call him…” She drags the tips of her long white nails along the curves of her breasts.“…Stefano.”
Yeah, Lorenzo told me about that.Not a chance he would’ve passed up on this walking wet dream.
She straightens from the railing and promises, “Iwillbreak you before you leave, Stefano.The things I’ll let you do to me…”
“I’m here for a girl,” I tell her, hoping it’ll shut this down.
“And I live here with a husband I love very much,” she counters with a shrug.“Doesn’t stop me from wanting to choke on your cock and have you come on my face anyway, you beautiful bastard.”Hips swinging like a metronome set to seduction, she walks off.“I’ll see you at dinner.If you change your mind, my door will be open.”
Yeah.I definitely should’ve gone to a hotel.
