Page 36 of Cruel Lies

Cali ruined Todd's life.

And goddamn, she looked good doing it.

So when she sweeps out of the room, I follow her.

10

CALI

Cool girls don't look at explosions.

They blow things up, and they walk away.

So I don't run for the elevator, even though, now that it's all over, the only thing I want to do is find a nice, dark corner to hyperventilate in until the adrenaline rush dies down.

But I can't do that. There are appearances to keep up.

Instead, I make myself walk. I'm a female entrepreneur, and one of the first things you learn when you set out on your own in that world is that the impression you leave behind when you exit a room matters as much as the one you set when you enter. I want every single person in this building to see me for what I was at the beginning, middle, and end of this public execution:

A cold-blooded killer.

Therefore, I take my time.

I don't look back at Todd. I don't need to. I already saw everything I needed to see.

I jab the elevator button and wait, toe tapping impatiently. When the doors open, I step inside and turn around to face the floor as the doors slide shut. The last thing I see is the conference room with the frosted serif letters, now emptied out, the screens gone dark.

Then the doors close, and it's just me and my reflection in the brushed steel.

I look at myself. I'm flushed, but not from nerves. My eyes are bright. There's a little smile tugging at the corner of my mouth that I can't seem to put away.

I did it.

I actually did it.

I won.

The elevator starts to descend, but instead of feeling like my stomach is plummeting to the earth along with it, I'mflying,soaring. I can't remember the last time I felt this good.

I stride out once I reach the ground floor with my chin high and keep on soaring across the atrium. I'm almost to the revolving doors, almost to the street, almost to the rest of my life, when?—

"Leaving so soon?"

I know the voice before I turn.

It's deep and smooth and a little amused, with the faintest edge of an accent I couldn't place the first time I heard it.

The man from the lounge.

He's leaning against a marble column near the doors. He looks just like he did on Saturday night. Dark suit. Eyes that don'tquite smile when his mouth does. That dangerous air, exactly the same as before. But somehow, buttoned up. Like the full extent of just how dangerous he is remains a secret only he and I know.

For a second, I just gawk at him.

"You," I say at last.

"Me," he agrees.

My brain scrambles to make sense of this. The last time I saw this man was in a dim bar in Chelsea, days ago, when I told him I was technically married and he told me he was bad in ways I'd never imagined. And now, here he is, in the lobby of my husband's building, watching me walk out of the worst and best moment of my life.