Page 38 of The Deceptions
“I’ll choppity chop you,” I growl, whipping my towel off and throwing it at his face.
“That’s more like it! I like spicy Liv,” he chuckles, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Just let me know when you’re decent.”
I shake my head, holding out the black binder between my fingers. This is it. A transformation into someone new. My fingers brush against the tight fabric and over the stitching. I swallow hard as I stretch the material, noting how it almost fights me to stay tight and compress.
Good.
Without over thinking, I pull it over my head, fight to get it over my breasts, and suck in a breath when I look down. My breasts are flat, held into the tight material that takes my breath away. It’s compact against my ribs, making it hard to pull in oxygen. But I do. The more I pull in, the more comfortable I get. I know it’ll be an adjustment.
I feel like Mulan, preparing for war. Shedding my identity and becoming someone else to fight the good fight. Except, she did a better job than I’m going to do. She was a true warrior. Me? I’m just a girl, numbly becoming someone else for the sake of my case and bringing down the bad guys.
For the next hour, I try on a ridiculous amount of clothes. Jordy critiques everything, showing me how to walk, talk, and even gesture like a man. It’s… something and a lot to learn. Essentially, I have to turn Olivia off and give Oliver free rein.
Talk about a difficult task. How am I supposed to erase twenty-two years of habits in a single day? The answer? I can’t.
“I'm a text away, Liv,” Jordy suddenly says, grabbing my upper arm, turning serious. “Okay? If bad things happen, if you want me to help you bury those bastards’ bodies, I'm there. Understood?” He squeezes my arm slightly until I nod. “I won't tell Jonathan anything, either. Those guys? Nooo, they disappeared!” He cracks a watery smile, displaying the raw emotions filtering past his goofy facade.
“I love you too, Asshole,” I softly say until he lets me go with one nod.
We have a few hours before we have to check out of the hotel and make our way to Greenwood University so I can start my case.
“All right. I got your clothes there.” He points to two large duffel bags that are tightly packed with my newly acquired wardrobe. “And some, you know, extras in there.” He winks at me, pointing to another duffle bagged shoved full, looking as if it came straight from our shared Veritas room.
I frown, staring at it hard until realization slams into me. "You didn't..." I accuse. Horror crashes over me, locking up every muscle in my body.
I can tell by the grin on his damn face that he rifled through everything on my side of the room and packed everything he could think of.
Including my damn vibrators.
“Jonathan said to pack anything you might find useful. And I think orgasms are very useful. Good for anxiety and depression and…” he trails off when he notices my heat-filled cheeks andfrown. “What? You don't think I know when you diddle the devil's button? Your vibes aren't as quiet as you think they are,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Neither are your moans,” he grumbles, shivering in disgust.
I toss my hands in the air. “The devil's button? For fuck's sake. I don’t listen to you when you slather your fucking snake. Ugh!” I pinch the bridge of my nose, huffing several times. Although, I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s heard me reach climax, it’s not a bad idea to have those around. “Thanks for the toys.” I cringe. “I think.” I shake my head. I need a damn good distraction before we take off. “I need to read more about this damn case before I go anywhere.” And I’d rather not discuss my vibrators anymore or think about Jordy’s dirty paws all over my things.
“Well, when you find them in your bag, you'll be very pleased with me. Just remember my name when you play.” I glare at him. “Fine! You need to study your case more, and I'll study mine. Which is boring, if you ask me.” He plops back onto the couch, pulling out a wad of papers, and flattens them on his lap. “Ugh. Art thief. How did they do it? No one knows,” he trails off, muttering about his case and whining. “Nobody cares. Nobody knows their name or what they look like. How am I supposed to find a damn ghost that surveillance cameras can’t even pick up? It’s bullshit.” He pouts more, studying his own case, which doesn’t seem to have a lot of information for him to go on.
I sigh, reaching for the envelope Jonathan left me, filled with everything I'll need to know, and start studying my backstory, name, and everything in between, over and over again until it’s memorized.
After what seems like hours, the words on the page melt together as my mind wanders to the psycho who attached a damn tracker to me. Mal. Malic. Whoever he is, there's something about him that feels so familiar to me, but I can'tput my finger on it. Maybe it's his association with Wilder and whatever he's into. Shivers roll down my spine as phantom fingers roll over my cheeks and down my neck.
God. I must be fucked up to want another round with him.
I shake my head. For fuck’s sake, Liv. He put a tracker on you. For what? Stalking? Trafficking?
I don't know.
All I know is, I should steer clear of him. Which won't be a problem now. He has no idea that I didn’t leave town. Or that I’m Oliver now. I barely resemble the girl he met at the bar.
I hope.
Looking around, I take stock of the hotel room I’m about to leave behind. I came here as Olivia Viotto–Agent Seven with Veritas. Now, I’m leaving as Oliver Davenport in my baggy clothes, bound chest, and new identity.
“All right, let’s roll out, Liv. Time to meet your roommates.” I stiffen at Jordy’s words.
My face drops immediately. “Wait! Roommates? I can’t have roommates!” I don't remember reading that in the briefing. In fact, I know it wasn’t there in words.
That means only one thing.
Jordy, the little shit, knew this entire time and decided now was the perfect time to drop that little bomb.
