It took Claire almost an hour to return, and by that time, I was a nervous wreck. I’d downed several glasses of chilled sparkling water served by an increasingly judgmental housemaid, and I’d paced the patio back and forth restlessly, not knowing what I could expect.
What if she returned with Winston by her side? What if she’d called him, and the time she was taking was what it took him to get home from the Cosmopolitan? That could turn ugly very quickly. It had happened to me once before, and I’d barely escaped alive.
Or perhaps she was wearing me down, using time against me, and planning to return with a lowball offer she thought I’d be happy to accept after all the nerve-racking waiting. It made sense as a negotiating strategy, because she’d been a little too quick to give in.
When Claire returned, I was standing by the edge of the pool, noticing how the landscape reflected in the gleaming surface, the desert and water side by side in perfect harmony. I’d decided the house didn’t seem like it belonged to Winston, but the backyard did.
Feeling jumpy, I turned on my heels and walked toward her, breathing slowly to settle my nerves. She was alone, and held the thumb drive and the printed NDA in her hand.
“Here you go,” she said, putting them both on the table. The corners of the papers lifted with the breeze, but not enough to be carried away.
“Thanks,” I said, wondering if she’d cried. Her eyes weren’t swollen, and her makeup remained intact. She seemed a little tired, her laugh lines a bit more visible up close. She held my gaze steadily, with the same kind of chilling, dark threat in her eyes I’d seen before. It felt as if I were staring into an abyss that was about to swallow me whole.
I took the thumb drive and connected it to my phone, then checked the balance. The money was all there. Next, I checked the signature on the nondisclosure. Her name was signed in scratchy, oversize, slanted cursive. I folded the paperwork and slipped it into my purse, together with the thumb drive. “That’s it,” I said, knowing it would probably be a bit much to offer her a handshake.
“And you’ll do it today, like we agreed?” Her eyes drilled into me mercilessly. I could tell she was clenching her teeth.
Breath caught in my chest for a split moment. “Yes. I’m going there now.”
She nodded, looking at me curiously, head to toe, as if she hadn’t seen me before, probably wondering if I was good for my word. Then she turned her back to me, staring into the distance. “The maid will see you out, Ms. Taylor. I hope I never see you again.”
The moment I stepped inside, the housemaid appeared, seeming eager to escort me out. I kept my eyes focused on the front door, not wanting to see anything of the home that would never be mine.
I could barely see the road through my tears. It took a few attempts, but I eventually managed to find a peaceful spot where I could let it all out.
Winston’s words echoed in my mind, along with the way he’d looked at me, the way we connected as if our souls were touching. How could I give that up? How could I walk away from the only man who had made me feel like I was more than just the sum of my past?
But I had no choice. He’d never understand.
After a while, when I was able to stop crying, I turned my phone back on.
There were several messages and missed calls from Winston. My phone screen glowed with his name, a relentless reminder of everything I was running from.
I hesitated, then tapped on the first voicemail. His voice filled the silence—warm, steady, and laced with quiet concern.
“Olivia ... I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me when you drove off.” A pause, like he was searching for the right words. “The pain in your eyes ... the sorrow. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. Please, just call me.”
The pain came crashing back, stealing my breath, my chest heaving under the weight of it.
I scrolled through his texts, my pulse hammering, my tears splashing on the screen.
I’m worried about you.
Please, just let me know you’re safe.
Whatever it is, we can talk about it.
He was always so considerate, so patient. And I was drowning under the weight of my lies. On the side of that barren South Las Vegas street, I learned how it felt to have your heart ripped out of your chest. Through the blur of tears, I stared at the text messages, reading the words over and over again. He missed me. He wished I were there, in his arms. He loved me.
And I loved him.
For a few minutes of pure insanity, I considered calling the whole thing off. Going back to Claire to revert the entire arrangement andreturn her money, and rushing to Winston right after that. Then what would happen?
He’d welcome me into his arms, and I’d be deliriously happy. He’d kiss me passionately, and offer me a drink, perhaps dinner. And then?
He’d want to make love to me. And I’d freak out again. Instead of his loving eyes, I’d see my father’s disgusting, lecherous stare. I’d feel my father’s hands on my body, hurting me.
“Damn you to bloody hell, you sick son of a bitch,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done to me.”
