Page 98 of In Case You Didn't Know
There’s a beat of silence. A long, loaded pause.
“How long has it been going on?” he finally asks. “I assume it was you who made her cough wine out at the dinner party.”
My mouth twitches at the memory of that night. “It was.”
“And before that?”
“It’s been… building.” I won’t be telling him about the sex club. Or the surveillance feeds. Some things are sacred.
“Now, do you want to know what she does when I pin her wrists above her head and call her my good girl, or can I get on with my job?”
He winces. “Just… do it.” He waves at my laptop. “And please never, ever say those words to me again.”
My grin is pure provocation. “I’ll try. But it’ll be hard. She’s very vocal when she’s being good.”
Hudson groans and rubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to erase the last two minutes of his life. “I hate you.”
“You love me.” I reach for my bag. “But if you don’t leave, I’m going to keep torturing you.”
He’s halfway out the door when I toss one last barb at him. “And maybe tell your staff to avoid reviewing camera four unless they’re prepared for a very educational experience.”
That one’s a lie. But the horror on his face is worth it.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “I need a fucking therapist.”
When the door shuts behind him, I finally let the smile drop.
I should feel triumphant. But instead there’s this dull ache in my chest. A creeping dread I can’t quite explain. I’m staying on the island longer than I need to. Delaying meetings. Ignoring decisions. Because for the first time in my life, someone sees all of me and doesn’t flinch.
That should scare me. Maybe it already does. Everything I touch eventually falls apart. I know that better than anyone.
I pull out my phone.
I’m on my way over. I’ll pick up some dinner. And wear my glasses. – Asher
My mouth twitches as I hit send.
It feels good, this quiet domestic rhythm we’ve fallen into.
Too good.
I grab my things and the dinner I ordered, then make my way outside, breathing in the salty air, already imagining her opening the door with that sleepy little smile she gives me.
But then my phone rings.
And just like that, the whole damn world shifts.
twenty-seven
ASHER
By the time I step outside the hotel, insulated dinner bag in one hand and phone wedged between my shoulder and ear, Brad’s already dropping a bomb.
“There’s been another breach,” he says. My stomach immediately drops.
“How can that be?” I frown. “We tightened the security so much even I can barely get in.”
I head toward my car in the growing twilight, the salty breeze tugging at my clothes. The hotel chef packed Francie’s favorite dinner, and I was smiling as I left the kitchen. But now my jaw is tight.
