“You were in charge?”
“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a wink, not bothered by my interruption. “I gave just as good as I got, I promise. But anyway, as I was saying, Henry left me in the basement formuchlonger, but otherwise, the scene was just as it was back then.” She sighs wistfully, and I open my mouth to ask if Henry also shot a man dead, but think better of it.
“I just wanted to check in with you, Lucy. I’ve enjoyed having you live here and getting to know you, and I hope you don’t mind me saying that I consider you a part of the family now.”
Shit.There are tears in my eyes immediately, and I know she sees them. Thankfully, she gives me a chance to pull myself together and continues.
“It’s come to my attention that Sasha is no longer staying at the cottage, so I wanted to ask you if you were okay and if there was anything I could do to help.”
The urge to tell her everything, starting with how it felt to be one of the only kids in elementary school without a dad, all the way to Sasha stomping all over my heart but still bringing me to more intimate heights than I thought possible last night. I want her to hold me and smell likeamom, even if she doesn’t smell likemymom. I want to tell her how sorry I am for intruding into her home under false pretenses, and how I cried so hard when the DNA tests showed that I was a Sinclair that I threw up.
I don’t. I sniffle and smile. I’m too afraid that Blanche would toss me out of here on my ass, especially since I used one of the grandkid’s hairs for the test. As reasonable as she is, that might be a step too far, and if she kicks me out, this will have all been for nothing. I need to stay and getsomeinfo. I just haven’t been able to get my mind straight after all the distractions with Sasha.
“Well, you know how it is, Blanche,” I say quietly, but steadily. “Young love isn’t an easy road.”
Her eyes light up at my admission, and she returns my smile. “It isn’t, my dear. But the best love stories are always worth it.”
Hours later, I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the script that should arrive later and batting away fresh tears. I’m notsurprised,necessarily, but still disappointed.Hurt.Flipping to one side, the alarm clock on the nightstand mocks me. I’m no closer to falling asleep than I was when I first came to bed, but I have managed to regain all the anxiety that faded during my lunch with Blanche.
Maybe I should just take some melatonin and try harder…
Before I can get up, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. Who the hell is texting me at five in the morning? My blood runs cold when I see the name on the screen.
Lawrence.
Shit. I haven’t really given him any more thought since we left our meeting and my life fell apart. It looks like he’s called me a few times over the past few days, but I haven’t exactly been glued to my phone.
Lawrence:
I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, ignoring my calls.
Lawrence:
If you don’t answer the next one, you’ll be sorry.
Shit, shit.My phone lights up with his incoming call immediately, and a pit of dread grows in my stomach as I answer. Before I can say hello, Lawrence speaks quickly, as if he doesn’t have much time.
“Listen here, bitch. I was too nice to you in the beginning, and you don’t have a fucking clue who you’re dealing with. I got you that job with Blanche to getmeinformation, and if you haven’t figured out your own shit about your deadbeat dad by now, that’s your problem. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I don’t care how you get it, but I have on good authority that she keeps a thumb drive with blackmail information on the Taranovs as insurance in case her precious Henry gets fucked over by his Russian whore of a wife. I want that material for myself. You have one week to find it, or you’ve outlived your usefulness to me. Text me when you have it, and I’ll arrange a meeting. A week, Lucy, or you’re finished.”
The line goes dead, and I try to fight the crushing pressure of his threat. Blanche’s office isn’t exactly Fort Knox, but there’s no way I’ll be able to find any excuse to dig around for an important thumb drive. She probably keeps it in a safe, or a safety deposit box in some random city, booby trapped to hell and back.
I’m trying to breathe, with limited success, when I hear a knock on the front door. No one is there when I open it, but the next script has been delivered and sits ominously on my sunflower doormat. Picking it up like it’s poisonous, I remind myself that after the last scene and the call from Lawrence, things really can’t get any worse.
Chapter twenty-nine
I haven’t had this much trouble getting hard since…well, ever. I don’t know where Blanche found the woman currently trying to suck me off, but I haven’t had a blow job this bad since I was a fumbling teen with the gardener’s daughter. She’s enthusiastic enough, but my dick is refusing to show any signs of life.
When I asked Blanche for the contact information of any females she had in mind to act in our scene today, she eyed me warily before she gave me the phone numbers. Before she could give me her opinion on bringing another woman in, even though Lucy isn’t interested in it, her office phone rang, and I was spared. I heard everything she had to say just from her expression, though.
Do you really want to do this? Do you know what you’re doing?
The answer was and still is that I have no fucking clue. I’ve felt like I have split personalities for days trying to sort through all my feelings on Lucy and Lawrence. I can’t think too much about that now, though, becauseteethare grazing my shaft in a waythat even I find unbearable. I love pain as much as the next guy, butJesus.
“Denver, you gotta give me something here. Play with my balls or something, fuck.” If she can’t get her shit together, I’m moving on.
“It’s Monica, asshole,” she says, but she spits on me again and doubles her efforts, squeezing my balls hard enough that the average guy would probably tap out.Fuck, I love it, though. It’s been too long since I’ve been properly Domme’d.The pain is enough to stir some interest, and I’m finally getting hard as I look up to my captive audience.
Lucy sits strapped to a chair, fully clothed, gagged with Monica’s panties and staring at me with a mixture of hurt and hatred. She didn’t speak when she came in today, and I found that I had very little to say to her either. After my conversation with Blanche, I was rattled, torn between continuing my punishing campaign to drive Lucy out of my life and easing up on her because of what Blanche said about us being endgame. Maybe that’s what has my dick so confused.
