Interesting.
“I’m done,” Toni says, pulling down my T-shirt. Immediately, she grabs the jacket and slings it over my shoulders. “I will find you pants and socks later today.” I slowly turn around, facing her. She grabs the mug, shoving it into my hands. “If you get pneumonia, Emery Jones, you can die.”
I lift a brow. “You did research on my condition.”
She swallows. “As I said, my intention is not for you to leave here dead.”
I tilt my head. “Unless you don’t get paid. Then I’ll be dead.”
Her posture stiffens. “The doctor will pay. I know he will.”
“You can’t know that,” I counter, slightly combative. “People are fickle, Toni. Whether you like to admit it to yourself or not, but you’re betting my life on a man you yourself have called greedy and corrupt. If he pays,” I hitch a shoulder, “perhaps he’s not as greedy as you think.”
Her lip twitches. “See, that is the problem with the wealthy. They do not care about the deaths of people they do not know. They do not care about the unseen pain they cause. If they personally do not feel it, if they do not see it, then to them it does not exist. But you…” She reaches out, cupping my cheek. Her voice falls to a low, raspy timbre. “You exist, Emery Jones. To the doctor, you are very much real. Your pain is real. Your life is real. And he has a very real chance of losing you. And so, I am very confident that he will pay.” She pulls away from me. “Perhaps not even to stopyourpain but to avoid his own.”
The truth of her words bites at me, and my heart sinks. “Maybe you’re right,” I say, genuinely considering her logic.
“Do not look so sad, bella,” Toni says, gaze flitting across my face. “Trust me, you will soon be safe.”
I offer her a warm smile and whisper in a tone so submissively sweet that it sticks to her bones like a cancer, “I trust you, Toni. I do.”
THE DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE
QUINTON
“Goover the plan one more time,” I grunt, my temples pulsing at the absolute ridiculousness of Damon’s proposition. The man is utterly mad. He’s got some unwarranted idea that we’re super spies capable of trickery and theft. The buffoon ignores me, texting away on his phone as the jet descends into Han’s private airfield. “Damon! The plan.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Damon grumbles, acting as ifI’mthe one causing the collective headache. “How many times do we have to go over it?”
I glower at him. “As many times as it takes me to believe that we won’t end up rotting in a Macau jail cell for the rest of our lives.”
Damon pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You’re so dramatic, Q. No one is going to jail.”
“The plan,” I spit through gritted teeth. “Again.”
“Alright.” Damon releases a long, exhausted breath. “When we arrive in Macau, Han’s assistant will meet us and take us to the resort. There, we will meet the Li’s. Javier confirmed thatwe’ll be their guests of honor. Han’s party begins promptly at 8 p.m., that’s in two hours. The jewels, based on my sources, will be displayed in the middle of the ballroom. No, they will not be in a case, but they will be heavily guarded. Javier tells me there will be four guards manning the display.
“At around 11 p.m., when everyone is nice and drunk, you’re going to meet Chang Li Ma, he’s the chief engineer at The Golden Lotus. He’s disgruntled and hates the Li’s. We’ll pay him a handsome fee for his services. Chang is going to bring you down to the controls room where you’ll switch off the lights to the ballroom. Han’s guards will immediately fall into protocol and leave their posts to secure the Li’s. In that split second, I’ll take the diamonds from the display and pass them off to a server we’ve hired to transport them to a secure location.”
Damon draws in a sharp, annoyed breath, continuing, “You’ll turn the lights back on after three minutes. I’m sure the police will be called, and we’ll all be interrogated, but out of everyone in that room, we’ll be the last people Han expects to steal the diamonds. We’ll spend the night as planned and, in the morning, meet my buyer. There. Happy?”
I shake my head repeatedly, bewildered. “You are certifiably insane. This plan is insane. There are far too many variables, and if one piece is out of place then the entire thing collapses and we’re fucked.”
Damon sighs. "Quin, you need to relax. Your anxiety is going to be the thing that derails the plan, not the plan itself."
He's right. I know he’s right. I need to calm down. This plan requires precision and confidence. I can't afford to let my nerves get the best of me. I’ve trusted Damon before. I can trust him again. I’ve got no other choice.
The jet touches down in Macau, and as we disembark, we're met by the Li Brothers' assistant, a young man with styled black hair and an expensive suit.
“This way please,” he says, guiding us to a waiting SUV. We slide into the plush seats, and he gives us a polite smile. “Han and Pei Li are very much looking forward to seeing you. We all hope your stay at The Golden Lotus will be enjoyable.”
“As do we,” Damon coos.
Christ.
The drive to The Golden Lotus Casino and Resort is short but it feels like hours. Damon and I attempt to keep the atmosphere inside the SUV light, giving the illusion that we’re here for a good time—to gamble, to drink, and definitely not to rob Han Li completely blind.
Despite the artificial smile on my face, on the inside, I’m a bloody mess. The Li Brothers are notorious figures in Asia and crossing them can’t lead to anythingenjoyable.
