Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Hey.” I dip my knees to put us on eye level. “Slow down, darling. Take a breath.”
She inhales shakily.
“That’s better.” Rubbing her arms, I ask, “What evidence?”
“A video. My mom’s lover made a video. He was in on the whole thing. Elliot must’ve paid him.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s not all. Elliot planted the video in a mailer program that’s hidden on the main server at Starley Solutions. He said if anyone tampers with his computer or phone, the program will be activated and the video delivered to every desktop and phone in the company.”
Motherfucker. Anger pours through my veins, but I keep my voice steady. “What does Elliot want?”
“The second phase of your program.” She adds in a barely audible voice, “He wants me to steal it for him. He reckons you keep it on your laptop here at home.”
That lowlife piece of scum. He’s a fucking coward for using a woman to do his dirty work. He’s dead for using my woman.
I reel her in for a quick hug before holding her at arm’s length. Despite the anger, a warm feeling unfurls in my chest, knowing she came to me. “You did the right thing to tell me.”
“Leon,” she says, urgency infusing her tone. “What are we going to do?”
I clench my jaw. “By when does he want it?”
“He’s coming around again in a week’s time. He wants it before the end of the week.”
And I know why. Carter has been bugging Gus for the extension of that program to the point of sounding like a broken record that’s stuck in place. The pressure is mounting. Gus can’t hold off presenting something for much longer without losing face.
“Leon.” She fastens her hands on my T-shirt, crumpling the fabric in her fists. “What are we going to do?”
I grit my teeth so hard the crunch reverberates in my skull. “We’re going to give it to him.”
“What?” she exclaims, loosening her hold on my T-shirt and stepping back. “No. You can’t. You can’t do that. There must be another way.”
“Violet.” I go after her and wrap my fingers around her neck in a possessive caress. “Trust me?”
She searches my eyes with a frown pleating her brow.
“Trust me,” I order, tracing the curve of her neck with my thumb. “You trusted me enough to tell me. Now trust me to handle it.”
After a moment, her shoulders sag, but her fearful expression doesn’t vanish.
Dragging her closer, I seal my lips over hers. She tastes of mint and sin. I stroke my tongue over hers, but she doesn’t kiss me back. The tension remains in her body even as I employ every skill and trick in the book to make her forget.
Finally, she pushes away.
I don’t stop her. I give her the space she needs.
“Wait here,” she says, walking to the garage.
Curious to see what she’s up to, I remain on the spot. A few seconds later, she exits with a stepladder that she positions in the hallway under the geyser flap. Comprehension dawns when she climbs onto the ladder and lifts the flap. She sticks her hand inside and withdraws a plastic bag filled with bank notes.
Climbing down the ladder, she carries the money to me.
“This is everything I own,” she says, waving the bag in my face. “It’s the money I earned from selling my drawings, plus the salary Gus paid me. And the money you gave me.”
I wince at the reminder.
“There’s thirty thousand one hundred and fifteen rand here,” she says, dropping her arm at her side.
I look at the bag that dangles from her fingers. “Why are you keeping your money in our ceiling?”
“I was hiding it.”
“That’s obvious,” I say, gripping her chin and tilting her face to me. “Why?”
“No one could know about the money.”
“Because you didn’t want your mom and Gus to find out about your drawings?”
“That, also. But mostly because I was saving it for a specific reason.”
When she falls quiet, I urge, “What reason?”
“To buy false passports,” she admits in a soft voice. “New identities for my mom and me.”
Her meaning sinks in. “You wanted to run away.”
“Yes.”
The admission tightens my gut. It’s imperative that I know until when this was her plan, if she was planning on running even as she told me she cared about me and not about my past. “And now?”
“Not anymore,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to run.” She bites her lip. “I want to stay.”
My ribcage expands with relief while something deeper, something like joy and gratefulness, burrows under my thick skin. There’s more to that statement though. “But?”
“But I can’t let anything happen to my mom.” A pained look washes over her features. “And I don’t want you to sacrifice more than you already have. I don’t want Elliot to steal more from you.”
Drawing a hand through my hair, I consider all the implications. “Do you have an address for this man your mother slept with?”