Page 13 of Broken Surrender
CHAPTER 5
Lena
I hated to admit it, but somehow, after seeing Desmond like that for the first time, I closed my eyes and fell asleep to dreams of him. Undressed. Lying on the bed. Waiting for me. His cock on my tongue, his eyes full, completely consumed with me. It was pathetic; I know that. But my body throbbed with electricity. It was like he had hypnotized me, molding my body until Iwantedto give him everything.
But in the morning, regret and hatred filled me, my stomach in knots. Desmond may have been able to read me, but that didn’t mean that what he was doing was okay.
He was blackmailing me. For murdering my husband.
But maybe if I went to the Board of the Marked Blooms Syndicate, I would be able to appeal. To shift the blame on him, so that even if he eventually tried to expose me, they would think it had been him all along. And thentheywould take care of Desmond. Besides, it sounded like he hadn’t become an official member yet. John had been one for a long time.
I searched John’s office. A paperweight of a self-congratulatory award was on the right corner of his desk, where it always was, as if heneededto remind the world, and himself, how prestigious he was. I unlocked the drawers and replaced the key under the desk mat. Under an empty syringe and vial, lay a black business card withMBSprinted in red letters. The address at the bottom was in our neighborhood. Everyone was still off from work, so I drove myself.
The house was one of the biggest ones in the neighborhood, with a private road leading to the main building. Despite having been married to a billionaire for two years now, nerves still twisted in my stomach whenever I went to a place like this. I knocked on the front door, shrinking down into myself.
An estate manager answered. “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for the Marked Blooms Syndicate?” I asked. The estate manager frowned. “My husband was a member.Isa member, I mean,” I corrected. I had no idea if they knew John was dead yet. “I was hoping I could speak to the Board? Are they—”
“I’m afraid unless you have an appointment, the Board is unavailable for meetings at this time.”
A woman with tanned skin and blond hair peeked around the man. “Oh, Mrs. Dalton,” she said. I didn’t recognize her, but she came forward, reaching around the estate manager. He stepped to the side. “I’ll bring you to the waiting room.” The woman turned to the estate manager. “Will you tell my father she’s here?” she asked, smiling the whole time. I followed her through long hallways until we came to a room with a view of the grounds. She pointed at the couch and I sat down obediently.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“Wait, I guess,” she said. “I got you an audience, but you have to do the rest.”
She left and I fidgeted, twiddling my thumbs. A breeze blew ripples into the small pond behind the house. A gardener carried a leaf blower through the property. Another woman kneeled down near a bed of plants, tending to red fruits in the ground. Strawberries, maybe. I sat on my hands.
What was I going to say?
After twenty minutes, a man with red cheeks and a tall, wide frame entered. He settled in the seat across from me.
“How may I help you, Mrs. Dalton?”
Whoever he was, he knew my name, like the woman. But that didn’t change the situation. “I know there’s a new member your Board is considering.” I paused, trying to gauge his reaction, but he did nothing. I continued, “Desmond Callen?”
“The man who killed your husband?”
My heart fluttered with heat. Had Desmond already spoken to them and told them exactly what he had promised he would say?
He got to them fast.
“He’s blackmailing me. He’s threatening me with—”
The man leaned forward in a sharp movement and I flinched backward.
“About what, Mrs. Dalton?”
I chewed my bottom lip. I had to go for it. “You see, he knows something about me. And my husband.” Which, in reality, wasn’t a lie. The truth did have to do with my husband. “He—”
“Mr. Callen has informed us about your husband’s death. Unfortunately, these altercations do happen between our members and initiates.”
It was like he already knew everything, and he didn’t care. “What?” I asked.
“He has yet to release the video, but has told us that if we need it, he’ll relinquish it.”
My stomach dropped to my toes. I had forgotten about the video. All it would take was sending the Syndicate a message with that clip and they’d know that it wasn’t Desmond at all, but me.
