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Because it was one thing to know you had been tricked by a conman.
It was a complete other to see it all mapped out in front of you in stark, undeniable detail.
Not only had she been conned, this had been a long game.
He hadn’t just met her, gotten to know she made good money, that she had a lot stashed away, and then decided to use that.
No.
From the looks of things, he had clocked her a good long while before they had ever actually officially met, that he had watched her, studied her.
Hell, he had seen her in jeans and a tee years before I had – someone who spent every long workday with her for years.
Jules moved a few feet in, walking over toward a wall, giving me her profile, her hair tucked behind her ear, showing me her parted lips, her wide eyes.
Because what she was looking back at was herself.
Going to work, coming home much later, going to the gym, getting takeout, having brunch with her mom, going to the movies with her sister.
There was a picture of her window shopping at a pet store.
One of her getting out of her car, her skirt hitched up much higher than she would have allowed anyone else to see.
Another with her sitting in her car at work, hands clutching the wheel, head resting at the very top of it.
Just tired it seemed at first.
But there was another snap a moment later of her looking up, makeup running.
I forced my eyes away from the endless pictures, a part of me wanting to look, to see all the parts of her life. The other part of me, though, knew that this was not how she would want me to see her, when she wasn’t aware, when she wouldn’t have wanted to be seen – in weak moments, in compromising moments.
I moved toward a different wall, finding handwritten pages, the chicken scratch making it actual investigative work to figure out what was written there.
The first page had basic facts. Full name, address, work, known hangouts.
The next had a list of, well, all of us. Along with scribbled notes.
I snorted when I saw a note next to Gunner’s name that said Bad blood. Why?
My stomach knotted as I scanned down to my name, knowing that if he noticed the animosity between Jules and Gunner, he no doubt picked up on the situation with me and her.
Kai. In love with her. She’s either oblivious or uninterested. The poor sap.
It was better than I expected.
My head turned over my shoulder, seeing Jules still simply scanning the seemingly endless photos of her, trying to, I imagine, piece it all together as well.
I turned back to the paperwork, figuring it would give me a lot more than any of the pictures would.
The next sheet I reached for was more in-depth information on Jules.
Height. Weight. Shoe size. Food preferences. Cup size. And, right there at the bottom, a different list. One I didn’t quite get until I read a few of the lines.
Fantasies.
The bastard wrote down a list of the things she liked – or wanted to try – in bed.
Unable to help it, my hand curled inward from where I was holding it, crumpling up the words into a tight ball, crushing it in my palm, the anger a rather foreign, uncomfortable thing as it worked its way through my body, getting my veins heated, my skin crawling.
I swallowed back the acidic taste to my saliva, forcing myself to go to the next piece of paper, just finding basic little life notes, little tidbits about herself she had given him, things he wanted to appear to remember. So he could come off like the doting, perfect boyfriend.
I mean… how far was he willing to take this?
If he hadn’t gotten into her bank account this morning, would he have fully committed? Married her? Gotten his name on her accounts, so the money was his as well?
Then leave her?
Hell, leave her possibly pregnant? To raise a baby on her own?
Jules was a careful person, a woman all about timelines. She would have made sure there were no oopsies before the wedding. But she also wanted to be a mother. And likely before she got too much older. I would bet that she would have ditched contraceptives, and let nature take its course pretty soon after the wedding.
I moved to the small square folding table with a matching chair set up like a desk against one wall, finding a mass of paperwork that made me suddenly feel I needed to get my things in order on my own desk.
I pulled out the chair, sitting down, knowing this was going to take a bit with the sheer number of documents there.
Pieces of Jules’ mail
An old bank statement showing the hefty savings she had meticulously accumulated having worked for Quin since he opened. Every damn bit of it was hard-earned too.
