Dirtiest Lie Page 7

“He’s heavily in debt,” Romeo says, and I feel strangely ashamed. Like it’s not bad enough that my grandfather is cruel and manipulative, that he used kids to file frivolous lawsuits, that he tried to marry me off at sixteen to one of his friends so he could grab my trust fun, and he’s a murderer—though my bosses don’t know this last bit—but he’s also unable to control his spending habits.

  Not that it’s news to me.

  “Is that what drives the lawsuits?” Slade asks.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Romeo says. “It didn’t take our investigators long to discover a host of questionable schemes he’s involved with.”

  “Good luck trying to nail him on any of them,” I say. “He’s got low friends in high places.”

  Romeo smiles. “Not everyone can be bought. I have a good friend who intends to run for state’s attorney next year. We had an interesting conversation this afternoon, and he’s very interested in the things your grandfather has been up to. Not just one scheme. Everything.”

  Already I’m shaking my head. “We can’t bring in anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair—”

  “Matthew knows what he’s doing,” Romeo says smoothly. “This is a win/win situation. Your grandfather’s business practices will be thoroughly investigated. You have inside information about how he runs his schemes. You wouldn’t need to ever testify against him, but Matthew wants to speak with you.”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want that.”

  Not surprisingly, my bosses look confused. They know how much I despise my grandfather.

  “Because of my sister,” I say, and I’m about to tell the truth, but then I think of other angles, things that are also true. “If they go after our grandfather, my sister will lose the house. If Layla was involved in his schemes after becoming an adult, she could end up with a record.”

  “Those are things that Matthew and I already discussed. We can protect against them,” Romeo says, frowning slightly.

  “It’s… I’d rather not go about things that way,” I mumble. “Can’t we just… scare my grandfather away?”

  The furrow between Romeo’s brows deepens as his eyebrows draw closer together.

  Hawthorne sips his wine. He’s not looking at me, but I can tell from the way he’s holding himself that he’s going to say or do something that I’ll find irritating.

  “If you were going to analyze him,” Hawthorne begins, still looking off across the table, through the wide dining room and out the darkened window—at his own reflection? No. At mine. Hawthorne takes another sip.

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Yes?”

  Hawthorne’s steely blue gaze swings my way. “What would your analysis be?” he asks. “What are your grandfather’s strengths? His weaknesses?”

  Analyze my grandfather?

  I attempt to repress a sigh, but it escapes my throat anyway.

  “He likes the con,” I say. “If there’s a direct line to something, he’ll take the roundabout way if it means putting one over on someone else. Unless there’s a chance he’ll end up missing out, of course. Then he’ll trample anyone he needs to.”

  “Think of it like an employee report,” Hawthorne suggests.

  “Fire him, and make sure security stands over him while he cleans out his desk,” I say. “Maybe conduct a cavity search on the way out.”

  Slade laughs, but I wasn’t trying to be funny.

  “He’s sneaky,” I say, dropping my hands onto my lap. I’m not being demure; I don’t want my bosses to see how much I’m shaking.

  “All the more reason to make sure he ends up in jail. Are you ok?” Romeo asks, but his warm, deep voice doesn’t have the same soothing influence as usual.

  “It’s one thing to be hiding from him,” I say. “It made me feel nimble. Safe.”

  “You never felt safe,” Hawthorne says. “A lot of bluster, though.”

  My head comes up, and I meet his stare. “You’re obviously qualified to analyze everyone, so why do I need to be here?” The words snap out in guttural bursts, but there’s no venom, no bite. Just fear, and I’m sure everyone can hear it.

  Hawthorne leans in. “Any chance today’s lesson stuck? Can you just answer our questions? What’s going on?”

  “I can’t pay attention to what you’re saying when your elbows are on the table,” I sniff.

  “Nice deflection,” Hawthorne says. “But it’s not going to work.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand you. This guy has ruined your life, and you’re clearly terrified of him, but you seem to want to protect him.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I hiss, and even though I’m angry, it’s not directed at Hawthorne. I’m left holding all that negative energy, unsure what to do if I can’t run away and I can’t lash out.

  “Actually, while Hawthorne didn’t frame things in the way I would have, I do agree with him,” Romeo says. “You seem to be of two minds about your grandfather, and it’s confusing. Do you feel some kind of familial obligation—”

  “Absolutely not. He’s not a nice guy,” I say. “He’s spent a lifetime honing his ability to sniff out other sociopaths who would stop at nothing to get ahead. If there’s an official to be bribed, within minutes they’ll be stuck together like magnets. You might think he has money problems, but I suspect he’s got stashes in offshore accounts. He’s got resources and he’s resourceful.”

  The entire time I’m talking, my voice is getting higher and more frantic, and my fingers clench rhythmically into fists. I will myself to settle down, to sit up straight, open my hands, breathe from the center of my body.

  But it does me no good.

  “Why don’t we show you the observatory,” Romeo says, standing. He holds a hand out to me.

  When I slip my fingers into his, they’re surrounded by his warm strength.

  Chapter 10

  The observatory is actually a short drive from the house. I should feel comforted by the cloak of night wrapped around us as we walk into the building, but that little exercise at the dinner table, thinking of my grandfather, has unsettled me.

  He’s not a man to underestimate, though he likes to project vulnerability when it suits him. That falsehood was something else that my sister and I served nicely for: making him the grieving father raising his two orphaned granddaughters on his own. Who wouldn’t trust such a kind and selfless man?

  My bosses are right, however.

  I am trying to protect him, though not for the reasons they might imagine. I don’t owe him any loyalty. It’s my sister I’m trying to insulate.

  And, it must be admitted, shielding her comes with the added benefit of protecting myself.

  We’re standing in a round room with a set of stairs off to my left. There are some desks, some computers that look like they haven’t been booted up in years. Though nothing is dusty, so I suppose someone visits regularly.

  “After you,” Romeo says, extending his arm to indicate that I should climb the narrow metal stairs.

  My hand wrapped tightly around the banister, I begin to climb. Romeo follows quietly, and it reminds me of when I was at my grandfather’s mansion, climbing up to my parents’ old room.

  This, of course, is completely different, so I’m not sure why my mind makes the connection.

  The staircase wraps around tightly. At the top is a door, which is open.

  “Go through,” Romeo says.

  I hesitate. “There’s no light.”

  He leans around me to flip on a switch. A tepid yellow glow shines from tracking inlaid at the floor’s perimeter. The room itself is round. Toward one edge is an enormous telescope, taller than Romeo and thicker around. It looks like something from a science fiction movie.

  Astronomy isn’t one of my interests, but I can’t help but be drawn to the instrument. Squinting, I align myself with the eyepiece. The telescope itself smells faintly of polished metal.

  The stars are like glowing paint that someone flicked on a black canvas. “I see astronauts walking around on the moon,” I
say.

  “That’s not the most ridiculous thing to come out of your mouth,” Hawthorne says, his tone warm.

  Someone’s hands settle on my hips. I don’t know who it is, but when his grip tightens, a flutter runs through me. Willing him to press his body against mine doesn’t work, and I finally straighten.

  It’s Slade.

  I turn in his arms, my hips brushing his erection. A corner of his mouth lifts, as does one of his eyebrows, though briefly, before his face settles into a light smile. I can smell the red wine on his breath, and the tip of my tongue flicks out to moisten my lips as I raise my gaze to his.

  With the faint yellow light throwing shadows across his handsome, aristocratic face, and in this strange location, I feel like I’m in a hazy dream.

  “I almost had the observatory torn down,” he says, “but seeing you in here, your ass thrust out while you looked through the telescope… Let’s just say that you could inspire a new wave of interest in astronomy.”

  “There’s probably more money in astrology,” I say.

  “Minor details.” While he speaks, he lightly pulls me against him so that his long, thick erection presses across my stomach. If only our clothes would disappear. I can feel him breathing, too, and I want to wrap my arms around his neck and move until our bodies are closer together.

  Romeo steps behind me, pushing me deeper into Slade’s arms. I feel my boss run his lips from just below my ear down to my shoulder.

  Instantly, my pussy gets wet, and when I feel the bulge of Romeo’s massive cock pressing into my back, I start to tremble with need and anticipation.

  He kisses his way back to my ear. His skin is hot, his touch confident, his body powerful and hard.

  “Not yet,” he murmurs into my ear. I have to be still to hear him, which makes me relax against his body even more. Sandwiched between two of my bosses, I feel all my worries slipping away—even if Romeo is going to make me wait.

  I know that in the end, it will be worth it. It always is.

  He nibbles my earlobe, then raises his head. “I need a few minutes alone with Lindsay. Five minutes.”

  Slade captures my face and kisses me passionately. When he lets me go, the room spins. If Romeo weren’t behind me, holding me up… But Romeo is there.

  He’s always there. Even when he steps away, I still feel his power as if it were my own.

  He closes the door behind Slade and Hawthorne. “I’m going to turn off the lights now,” he says. “Don’t move, and I’ll find you.”

  I wrap my arms around myself.

  A moment later, we’re plunged into absolute darkness, a black so complete that it seems to have weight, to press against my skin. It’s a strange feeling, but it doesn’t particularly alarm me. I know the dark and what lurks within it, but what could hurt me when Romeo is nearby?

  His large hands rub my upper arms. “I thought it would be easier if just the two of us had a moment together,” he says. “Tell me the rest of the story. It’s time.”

  Tension winds my muscles tight, and suddenly I’m not such a fan of the dark, of having the door closed and no easy way out.

  “I’m right here,” Romeo says, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his wall-like body. Under my cheek, and under the softness of his shirt, I feel the slow, steady pounding of his heart, the lift and fall of his broad chest.

  It reminds me of the night in his room.

  The night when I would have told him everything.

  He doesn’t say anything and instead waits for me.

  Only five minutes, I tell myself. I can run down the clock, and Romeo seems willing to let me do it, too.

  The darkness stretches around us. I think of the pinpricks of light I saw through the telescope. How vast the universe is.

  Abruptly, the memory of a family camping trip flashes before me. It was before our grandfather came to ruin our lives. My mother was off with my sister, their mission a long trek to the bathrooms.

  My father—technically stepfather, but he was the only father I ever wanted or needed—pointed up. “Right now, on a planet many light years away, an alien is standing with his daughter and pointing at us,” he said.

  “Is that where people go when they die?”

  He worked his jaw and scratched his beard as he stared up at the sky. “I wouldn’t put money on it, but the universe is such a mystery to puny humans such as ourselves.”

  That stuck with me because he wasn’t puny in the least. He was a large man, with warm eyes and a ready smile.

  “Hell, we should wave, just in case,” he said.

  And we did.

  “Don’t tell your mother I cursed,” he said.

  It’s something I haven’t thought about in years, and I’ve looked at the night sky plenty of times.

  Romeo runs a hand over the back of my head until his fingers come to rest gently on my neck. Closing my eyes, I press my body into his. And he welcomes me.

  “I’ll trade you, a story for a story,” I say, thinking I’d like to know why their ex left.

  “Deal.” His voice vibrates along my entire body.

  “It’s about the death of my parents,” I say. The words sound like they’re coming from a million miles away, and I don’t recognize my voice. “My grandfather tampered with the car. And Layla doesn’t know.”

  Romeo jerks a little in surprise, but he recovers quickly. “You don’t want him prosecuted for that because you think it would hurt your sister to learn what he did? Or is it about the insurance payout?”

  Romeo just gave me an escape as big as the sky. I could place the truth far to the side, where my bosses would never find it, no matter how powerful the telescope, because they wouldn’t know where to look.

  Lying would be easy. One word. Let Romeo continue to believe what he’s already concluded. He’d surely drop the idea of opening my grandfather’s old records to scrutiny, so I would get what I want.

  It would be so easy.

  But he deserves better, as my friend, my boss, my dominant lover… my boyfriend.

  “That’s not why,” I whisper, though just barely. I clear my throat and wish I had a glass of water to counteract my suddenly dry mouth. “My parents kept the keys in the cars. Layla and I weren’t supposed to play in the garage.”

  That morning, the last of my parents’ life, was spectacularly beautiful. A spring day, the air fragrant with cut grass. The landscaper, Jeremiah, stopped by to prune several trees, and he said there might be a bird’s nest to show us if we happened to be around when he finished.

  Sometimes Jeremiah’s projects took longer than he expected, and when that happened, he would leave quickly and without saying goodbye.

  We wanted to see the bird’s nest. We decided to stay nearby.

  Killing time in the garage was Layla’s idea, but it might as well have been mine. We did it often enough. From there, we would be able to hear when Jeremiah stopped sawing.

  We climbed into one of the newer SUVs. Sometimes we both sat in the front and pretended to be adults, but that day I sat in the back. My favorite movie, the one about the mermaid, was still in the DVD player.

  Even as I summarize these things for Romeo, I’m being pulled downward into a spiral of painful detail. The floral scent of our mother’s perfume, lingering. The smooth texture of the tan seats. The nap of the mats, which were freshly vacuumed.

  And Layla, messing with the GPS, with the dashboard controls. The front seat sliding, adjusting, until she was pressed almost all the way up against the steering wheel.

  “I’m stuck,” she said, giggling, but I could hear that she was worried.

  Irritated, I paused the movie and leaned over to change the position of the seat.

  It eventually glided back, and she slid down the seat, into the footwell. Nothing but her blonde ponytail was visible as she messed with the buttons.

  “You’d better put it back exactly right, or Dad will kill you,” I said, turning my attention back to the movie.

>   “The presets aren’t working.” She fussed with them while I watched the mermaid sing about her dissatisfaction with life in the ocean. I thought about her future prince. I wondered what I would do if someone stole my voice.

  Surely, I thought, I would have done much better.

  The soft rise and fall of Romeo’s chest brings me back to the present. “My sister messed with the seat mechanism. When the accident happened, it was because the driver’s seat slid forward and jammed, pinning our father on the steering wheel. There was a curve, but he couldn’t turn the wheel. They plowed into oncoming traffic. The SUV slammed into a tractor trailer. Three vehicles were involved. Six people died. Two more were gravely injured.” It comes out dispassionately, like an elementary school history report.

  “I’m so sorry, Lindsay.”

  “I didn’t get to the good part yet,” I say bitterly. “About a week after it happened, our grandfather asked me if we’d been playing in the SUV, with the seats. He tried to be casual, but I knew something was up. I denied it completely, and he dropped it. That always stuck out in my mind, though it wasn’t until years later that I understood…”

  I sigh. I feel like I’m making a confession. “Fast forward about three years, to the night I ran away. I went to my grandfather’s study to try to reason with him about the forced marriage. He wasn’t there, but a cigar sat in the ashtray, and he had half a glass of scotch waiting, so I knew he’d be back soon. There were documents spread everywhere. I figured it was research for a new scam, so I picked up one of the papers and was shocked to see details of the car accident. Not gory details,” I say quickly. “In fact, it was all very dry. That was when I learned the cause of the accident. Before that, I thought it was a problem with the steering.”

  My entire body feels both light and heavy, like I could drift away, like I could be pulled into the floor. My lips are strangely numb.

  “Go on,” Romeo says gently.

  “The SUV manufacturer issued a safety recall a few weeks before the accident. The faulty piece was an L-shaped thing that attached to the driver’s seat mechanism. The originals warped under pressure. A lot of this I learned from my own research after that night. As for what my grandfather did, I don’t know if he installed a faulty device on the SUV or what, but in my gut, I know he did something. Because I know how he operates. Also… Less than a week before the accident, he had a huge fight with my parents about money, but instead of sulking like he usually did when they turned him down, he rebounded quickly. Everyone noticed. And his questions about if Layla and I had been messing with the seats… I know he did something.”