AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Me: You’ll never know for sure.
Liam: That’s not entirely true.
Me: Meaning?
Liam: I did something for your safety and may have reaped a personal benefit recently.
Dread oozes over me like an egg being cracked on my head.
Me: What the hell are you talking about?
Liam: Deep breaths. Try not to get too angry, Ace. I’ll have you panting within the hour.
Me: You’re not making any sense. No promises. What did you do?
Liam: I’ve been monitoring your location and communication since July.
My entire body surges with heat as I comprehend all that could entail.
Me: That’s completely fucked, Graves.
Liam: Maybe. But safety first. Even if you don’t choose me, I’ll always protect you.
Ivy’s words blast into me. “He’s a choice. He needs to know he’s a choice.”
Does he still want me to choose him?
Me: Why are you telling me this now, while I’m on a date?
Liam: Is that what we’re calling it? I prefer to label it as a hearing to determine your sentencing for political eye-candy incarceration.
My texts with Rena. Oh, fuck no.
CELESTE
I’m going to die a thousand deaths from mere mortification. I never tell anyone anything.
Rule number one in the political playing field: Never document anything you don’t want broadcast to the masses, which is precisely why I stay off social media.
Good God, this is bad. I jostle my phone, fingers unsteady as I prepare to search my texts with Rena for how extensive the damage truly is, when Scott’s voice catches me.
“Everything okay, Celeste?” He sips his gin and tonic, brows furrowed.
“Yes. Fine,” I lie, setting my phone on the table to acknowledge the gentleman I’m supposed to be enamored with. “I had an all-thumbs moment while trying to reply to my friend.”
Friend. More like man I intend to maim, murder, decapitate. Semantics.
“Ahh. Were you finished?”
“I can be.” I lift my wine with a resolution I do not feel, my mind reeling with how horrifying this may be. Unfortunately, inside my current unraveling, I can’t recall all the texts.
Scott chuckles. “It’s fine. Answer your friend so she isn’t kept waiting. I can send one more email. Working in the stolen moments means it doesn’t pile up.”
“It can wait,” I protest, knowing my mother would berate me for my rudeness.
His booming tenor seeps out with a smile as he stretches across the table to grip my hand. “I don’t find it rude.” Clearly raised in the same world as me. Maybe his mother is chastising him in his head too. “I’d prefer you to be able to concentrate.” He delivers that with a twinkle and a flirty wink.
God, if I felt something here, this would be one hell of a date. But, no, my thighs only squeeze for the quippy, intrusive dark angel.
