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He rolls over and reaches out for my arm. Grabbing my wrist, he yanks me backwards into bed. Arms around my waist, he pulls my back against his chest. I wiggle my naked ass on his semi-hard cock. The thin barrier of the sheets feels like nothing between the heat of our bodies.
“I missed it,” I say. An alert pops up on the screen, and I unlock the phone to see who’s called. “They left a voicemail.”
“Leave it for later,” he says groggily, pulling me tighter to him.
“It could be Gutierrez with something about the case, or Safiya. She should be heading to France soon and said she’d give me a call. I don’t have this number in my phone, but that could mean anything.”
I hit play on the message and hold it to my ear.
I frown when I hear sobbing. Loud, indistinct sobbing, interrupted by aggressive sniffing and labored wails. My body stiffens as I make out the first words.
“How could you?”
My mother.
“You sent those… those… those… whatever they were. Richard wasn’t making any sense. I know you sent them. They nearly killed him… If you think that’s going to stop him, stop us from getting what we’re owed…”
My stomach drops, and my blood runs cold.
“What is it?” Titan asks, his voice sounds foreign to me, still warmed by sleep and distracted by memories of last night.
“How could you, honey?”My mother breaks down in sobs again, obscuring her next few sentences before I can understand her again.“They said he’s lucky to be alive…”
Last night when I’d come back to the penthouse, Titan wasn’t there. When he arrived later, he was covered in blood. Richard’s blood.
I attempt to pull away from Titan. When it’s clear my struggle isn’t playful, he releases me, and I scramble to the far corner of the bed.
“Baby girl?” Titan furrows his stone brows and eases his weight off the bed, worry darkening his voice.
“You did this to your own flesh and blood… How can you live with yourself… I am your mother. You think it was bad before? Just wait. This isn’t over… it’s not just about the money… it’s assault… it’s attempted murder…”
The message is cut off on a final sob.
I step backwards off the bed and walk until my back hits a wall. Every emotion comes to the surface all at once—anger, sadness, betrayal—and yet I feel numb.
Attempted murder…
“Baby girl…”
“What did you do?” I bite out the words.
He looks at me solemnly, his eyes never wavering from mine. He knows exactly what I’m talking about, and I feel like a trusting idiot.
Again.
“I did what you asked and then, when more was required to keep you safe, I did that too.”
“You lied to me. I asked you to find what you could from the penthouse. Not more, not this.” I gesture with the phone, feeling the urge to chuck it at his head, let the plastic shatter against his horns. “You nearly killed a man.”
“Richard was messaging you on Sweet Arrangements, pretending to be a potential sugar daddy, talking with you, getting you to spill information they planned to use against you. I heard your conversation with your mother at the restaurant. They were going to use me against you too.”
“So this is about you?”
Bile rises in my throat as I immediately know who Richard was on the Sweet Arrangements site. He’d seemed kind but clueless, and I’d been all too eager to help. I should’ve known he was a fake, I chastise myself. He asked too many questions and led me on for far too long.
Trusting fucking idiot.
“No,” he says firmly. “They had a P.I. on you. For years. There are hundreds of pictures. All innocuous enough, but they aren’t going to paint it that way in court.”
