“I’ll be doing the hustling,” I smirk. “But yeah, I want to Bonnie and Clyde that joint up.”
“What’s your game?” he asks.
He isn’t saying yes, but he isn’t saying no. He likes the adrenaline rush as much as I do. He thinks he’s the master, but he hasn’t seen me in action before. Not really.
So, I lay it all out for him. Using the voice and personality of the bimbo I sucker punch my clients with.
“Well you see, doll, I’m just a bored housewife. Married a real estate tycoon down in Texas and he spends all his time at the office.”
I toss in a couple sniffles and pull a handkerchief from my clutch to really ham it up before I continue.
“And I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me with his secretary too. It’s our anniversary today, and he’s still at a meeting with her. So, I want to get drunk, have some fun, and spend loads of his cash. Only problem is, I don’t know how to play poker. I need one of you gentleman to teach me.”
The smile on Rory’s face disappeared over the course of my speech. The wheels are turning in his mind, but it takes him a minute to reply.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he mutters. “They don’t ever see ye coming, do they?”
I don’t like the judgment in his tone.
“Oh boo fucking hoo,” I snap. “Do you actually feel sorry for those men? Then you’re the one who needs a reality check.”
“Scarlett.”
His voice is soft when he steps forward and reaches out to grab my arm. He knows I’m already one foot out the door after his last comment.
I don’t take to judgment well.
Anyone who wants to judge me can fuck right off. And I tell him as much.
“I’m not judging you, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m just a little terrified of you right now.”
And he should be.
Because I’m pulling one over on him too. While I play this game and tell him that I’m right. While I tell him not to judge me.
I’m lying to him and fucking him over too.
And while I’m thinking about all of this, he’s only thinking about me.
“I don’t know if I can handle seeing ye flirt with those other blokes,” he says, and it’s honest and...
Fuck.
Why does he always need to be so goddamned honest?
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I assure him.
“That’s exactly the problem.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and paces my kitchen. “I never know when ye’re being real, Scarlett.”
I suppose that’s true. I don’t know half the time myself.
I’m a compulsive liar. It’s what I do for a living. It’s what I do to survive.
It’s second nature. As easy as breathing. To lie even when I don’t need to.
Sometimes, it just feels good. To be fooling everyone else.
I’ve been lying to Rory since the day that I met him. He doesn’t know a real thing about me. And now that I think about it, I don’t know a single person that does.
