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“And what would that be?”
“Oh, you know, just a ton of instant messages that you sent your ex-wife and surveillance video to show that you’ve parked outside her home for hours on end, even with a restraining order in place. That’s pretty brazen, wouldn’t you say? And also very stupid.”
“It expired.”
“I don’t know about that. But what I do know is you’re looking at house arrest— at minimum— after the judge has his say.”
“How do you know that?”
“Let’s just say I know the judge.”
“Small world.”
“I’d like to make an agreement with you, Mr. Parker.”
“I assume this is the part where I’m supposed to be surprised.”
“You can be whatever you want, but if I were you, I’d be all ears.”
“Considering—”
“You sign the agreement—contract to sell us your formula,” he says, cutting me off. “And we can make a few of your inconveniences go away.”
“I don’t cut deals,” I tell him with the shake of my head. “It only leads to further concessions down the line.” I smile, remembering the night Vanessa told me that.
He stands, walks over to my bed, and pats my arm. “Maybe I’ll pay you a visit a little later. See if you change your mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vanessa
I’m not immune to using my sexuality to gain favor. It is what they trained me for, after all. I don’t particularly like Adam, but he is the leader of the church, and if it helps me to not get caught with Sean in the basement—if it buys me freedom, if it saves my life, and protects my son—then I’ll do what I have to do.
I know he isn’t coming to discuss Melanie and her antics, not really. Melanie craves Adam; she smothers him, and she demands from him. What he wants from me is someone who gives everything and asks nothing.
“Matthew is upstairs,” I say, pulling him into the office.
“Take me to your room,” he replies. “I want to smell you on the sheets.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He takes my chin in his hands, and this technique must be something they pull men aside in school and teach them.
“I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had,” he says setting his laptop bag down. I assume he brings it to show this is official church business, but you never know. More likely, it’s to mark his territory. To show Sean, at least via the cameras, that he’s been here. “Since when do you question me?”
“Would you mind grabbing a bottle of wine from the cellar?” I ask, pointing.
I watch as he starts toward the cellar. “It’s locked
,” he calls.
“Crap,” I say, stuffing the freshly cleaned and polished letter opener I used to stab Sean into the middle compartment. “Sean must have taken the key...”
He appears around the corner, shrugs, and then follows me upstairs. “It’s too bad about the wine,” he says. I watch as he unfastens his tie and sheds his clothing, neatly hanging it over Sean’s favorite armchair. He smiles. “Always takes the edge off a bit, doesn’t it?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know if he sleeps with all the Sirens, but it wouldn’t surprise me. This is just another form of control for him. “I want you on top tonight,” he says, and that’s how I know this isn’t going to end well. Adam likes no one on top—no one except himself.
When I hesitate to undress, he takes care of it for me. All the while, I chastise myself for not running before he arrived. When he pushes me to my knees, I realize just how stupid I’ve been.
He’s forcing his way into my mouth when he spots Sean’s suitcase in the closet. “I thought you said he was out of town,” he says, and I realize I’ve left the door open and invited the monster in, in more ways than one.
