“You know damn well which one. Nix, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Whatever I want!” I almost shout.
There’s a pause on his end, and I hear him click his tongue. “She has your dick in a death grip, possibly more than just your dick, it would seem. Did you even look at the envelope I sent you? Or have you been too busy with her?”
“No, I’m busy,” I interject as I hear the men drag the two upstairs. I briefly wonder if Noll can hear their wails, but he doesn’t comment on it. I tap my finger against the island and ask, “Is this why you called?”
“Yes! Damn it, Nix. Yes! Look, you went into this business to find out what happened to your cousin, and every day, one day at a time, you’ve lost your vision in it. You’ve become them. You’ve become obsessed with the life, the money, the fancy cars, the big condo with all the bells and whistles. I can see it. I can feel it. You’re no longer the person I knew. You’ve become the person I’ll eventually bring a beer to a gravestone for. You’re about to blow yourwhole life away because of who you’ve become, and now you’ve brought the girl into it.”
My jaw hurts from how much I’ve ground it in the last ten minutes. “Maybe this is the person I was meant to be.”
He puffs out some air that creates a little static in the phone. “Is that what you tell yourself when you try to sleep at night? What would Megan think of you now?”
I swallow thickly as my cousin’s face comes into my mind. I know exactly what she’d do. She’d slap me, and I’d never see the woman I basically see as a sister again. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to live with myself after that, and that idea alone makes the subject too painful to touch on.
So instead of replying to him with some other kind of bullshit I can think of, I say, “I have to go.”
And then, I hang up the phone, pocket it, and try to push the entire conversation out of my head. But as I climb the stairs and get ready for a shoot, I know damn well that he’s right about everything.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte Mitchell
“Here you go, love,” Rochelle says. She passes me a plate of lasagna that she and Miles brought over. She was kind enough to bring a meal for us to share, and I’m grateful because I haven’t had a decent meal since I moved here; only a whole lot of mac and cheese and ramen noodles.
Again, that money Feenix continues to send me for my videos would really come in handy, but instead, I’m just letting it gather as evidence. Currently, my fake name is well-off with a sum of money that’s tempting as hell, but I promised Miles, who stands next to the edge of my bed, which I’m sitting on, that I wouldn’t touch it. I can keep at least some promises since I seem to be breaking them left and right lately.
“Thanks,” I tell Rochelle. I take the plate and fork fromher and set it on my lap. Immediately, I fork off a generous bite and shove it into my mouth.
Miles must have had a big day because his square of deliciousness is almost gone.
“You really need to eat more, Charlie,” Rochelle suggests as she sits next to me on the bed. The mattress dips, and she holds her plate in front of her with a grace I don’t possess while using her other hand to dig in.
Together, we all look at the wall I’ve created. More notes have been added to it since my adventure this morning.
“I eat enough.”
She pokes my hip with her fork, telling me she knows better. Together, we eat in silence for a little while.
Miles, having finished his last bite, nods in pride at my wall. “You’re doing well for just a few days.” He angles himself toward me. “When was the last time you saw Feenix?”
I set my empty plate to my side and lean back, using my arms to support me from behind. “Last night.”
“Did you find out his last name yet?” Rochelle asks, chewing thoughtfully.
I shake my head. “I will though.”
“I have a rough feeling about him,” Miles grumbles as he strokes his jaw with his free hand. “Just because he doesn’t handle the sex trafficking, it doesn’t mean he isn’t just as bad as this Andre fellow.”
I pucker my lips, and though Miles doesn’t see, Rochelle is probably more observant than him and frowns at the side of my face. “He’s not so bad.” A lot of secrets, but there’s something under the surface. I know it. There has to be. My heart won’t believe otherwise, and at this point, I’m starting to trust everything that organ suggests. There’s no point in fighting it anymore.
I have feelings for Nix.
And I know nothing about him.
In a nutshell, I’m screwed, and I cannot show it to Miles.
Rochelle’s frown only deepens, and it’s then I know I’ve said the wrong thing, at least to her. Because Miles seems unaffected by that comment, having not read into it like she has.
