Page 34 of Cruel Lies

So this morning, when Crosby walked past with his jacket and tie on, I asked him where he was headed.

"Whitmore Stearns," he said. "I have a lunch meeting with that guy I sent your way a few weeks ago, Todd Bradshaw. He wants to?—"

"I'll come with you," I said.

Crosby blinked. "You? You don't do client meetings."

"I'm making an exception."

I didn't tell him why, but I made up my reason on the spot. I was going to fire Todd Bradshaw to his face. That kind of thing is usually done via a terse, one-line email, but for a swine like Bradshaw, I was going to derive a lot more satisfaction from looking him in the eye and telling him to rot in hell.

I had no idea that his wife was about to beat me to the punch.

We came up the elevators together, Crosby and I. He jabbered nervously the whole way, though I didn't pay attention to a word of it. When we hit the thirty-eighth floor, somebody was rounding up bodies for some pitch in the big conference room. Crosby got pulled in. I drifted in behind him because I had nowhere better to be, and because firing Todd could wait until after whatever this was.

So I stood in the back. Against the glass wall, near the door, where nobody looks. I'm good at not being looked at when I want to be.

And then she walked in.

I knew her the second I saw her. The walk. The set of her shoulders. The dangerous dress, except now it was armor instead of bait, and over it, a sharp little blazer that told the room she meant business.

She didn't see me. She was looking at everyone and no one and her eyes skated right over the patch of darkness I occupied.

I almost laughed out loud right there.Kotyonok,I thought,what are you doing here?

When Todd walked in a few minutes later, I finally understood.

He came in grinning like we were throwing him a surprise party.Emmett, you old dog?—

And then he saw her, and the grin died on his face. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

Because this was it. The moment she warned me was coming.

I'd told her, that night at the bar, that her husband was a child playing at being a villain. I'd meant it as an insult to him. I hadn't realized it was also a warning he should've taken.

Because the real villain in his life was never going to be a man like me.

It was her all along.

And she was so much better at it than either of us ever could have dreamed.

I watched her extend her hand across the table like he was a complete and total stranger.Mr. Bradshaw. So glad you could join us.Even from where I stood, the tidal wave of panic overwhelming him was obvious.

But his pride kept him in the room, even when he would've been better off sprinting for the exit. Arrogance is a leash, and men like Todd never learn they're wearing one until it strangles them.

And fucking hell, she played it so well. She started slow. It could've been any of a million pitch meetings I've heard in my lifetime. Don't get me wrong—it was good. The tech guys leaned in, the VC who accompanied her into the room looked intrigued, and she radiated confidence and competence. Things were going well. She could've stopped there and walked out with a check.

But she didn't come for a check.

She came for Todd's fucking throat.

"Now," she said, "let me show you what happened when we ran a live, real-world dataset through it. Something painfully human."

I don't even think Todd knew what was coming at that point.

But I did.

It was our secret, mine and hers.