“Hey, Dan. What’s the best way to punish liars?”
“Fuck if I know. I don’t punish liars, I fuck them.”
I stare at Daniel who’s sitting on the top of my desk, eating the donuts my assistant brought me. He’s a thief that way and couldn’t care less what others think about him as long as he gets what he wants.
For him, efficiency comes first and everything else is secondary.
“Why the fuck would you fuck liars?”
“Hello? Because it’s fun. Liars are usually the best fuck because you never know what you’re in for.”
I tighten my fist on the desk to resist agreeing to how true those words are. I hate not knowing what I’m in for. Unlike Dan, I never seek out the thrill. In fact, I prefer it not be part of the equation.
I prefer having everything under my control. I’ve lost enough of it to the shadows in the past and allowing it to happen again is equal to blowing up everything to pieces.
“Why would you think it’s fun when they’re using you?”
“You’re using them, too.” He swings his palm in the air, imitating tapping an arse. “And then it’s, “thank you, have a nice life, love. ””
“That still doesn’t give anyone the right to use me.”
He raises his brows, studying me, and even pauses eating his donut, which is the equivalent to an event itself. “Since when did you grow morality balls?”
“It’s not morality. It’s the insult of being taken for a fool.”
“Oh, fuck me, this is good.” He jumps down from my desk. “Who took you for a fool? I need to buy them a drink. Wait a second, is it someone you fucked without me? I need a redo, one I can participate in.”
“No.” The word is so firm and final, it surprises me.
I’ve never said no to sharing before and he knows this, because he’s tilting his head with an annoying smirk that creases his cheeks with dimples.
Women love that shit. He’s the one they’re initially attracted to, due to his wittiness, charm, and conversation skills. I’m usually only along for the ride. It’s not that they’re not attracted to me, it’s that they feel like they should keep their distance from me.
Which is the smart thing to do.
Anastasia was the smartest of the bunch, because she fled the scene while I was sleeping. From the very beginning, she never envisioned anything beyond good old fucking.
And while I might have let that slide under different circumstances, the fact that she’s a pathological liar doesn’t play in her favor.
She lied not only about the virginity bit, but also about her name and her age. Because I sure as shit got her file from HR after I ran into her in the lift. And fucking surprise, she’s only twenty, not twenty-three as she told me that night.
Then there’s her weird new appearance. When the lift doors opened, I almost ignored the person inside, almost didn’t even look at her, since I was busy checking the group chat with mine and Dan’s friends in England.
It was a brief second, barely a lift of my head, but it was enough for me to see her.
And it didn’t take me long to recognize her. The blue-eyed, icy-haired girl from Jersey.
Though now, she’s nothing like that soft-looking blonde with deep blue eyes. She has black hair that’s tied in a twist and wears thick fucking glasses to hide her eyes that have magically turned brown.
Any other person would’ve been fooled by her appearance, especially with the baggy clothes and the general nerdy aura she gives off. But there’s something she couldn’t do with her makeover.
She had a habit of touching her chest now and again during that night, as if she was trying to reach for something beneath her flesh and bones. The moment I looked at her, she did that again—brought her hand to her chest and froze.
Those same soft hands with short, elegant bare nails that she couldn’t have changed.
If I hadn’t thought something was fishy due to the whole new look and the lies, I confirmed it when she ran from the lift as if her life depended on it.
And now, I won’t stop until I see the end of it.
Of her and her lies and deceit.
“Am I imagining things or did you just say no to sharing?” Dan licks the chocolate off his fingers slowly, like a cat who just finished eating and is in the mood to play.
“You’re not imagining it.”
“Why?”
The reasons are blurred in my mind and I couldn’t find an explanation even if I tried. One thing’s for sure, though. Neither Daniel nor anyone else will put their hands on Anastasia until I deal with this on my own.
“Because.”
“No, no.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You’re not getting away with “because.” I need reasons, reports, and maybe a medical checkup to verify that you’re not suffering from mental damage so that I can determine whether or not you should revise your will. Tell me the truth, are you dying? Oh, maybe you fell victim to black magic; that would explain why you’re not acting normal.”
“I am fucking normal.” I push his hand away and go to sit behind my desk.
“No, you’re not. Let me think.” He makes a dramatic scene of tapping his forefinger against his lip. “Are you acting this way because of the liar?”
“What if I am?”
“You really want to take her on solo?”
“I do.”
“But I’m the best wingman. You know that.”
“Not this time.”
“Why not this time of all times? Did you hit your head somewhere? Bloody hell. Did she give you an STD? First rule of shagging is to always wrap it up. Come on, mate, you’re not an amateur.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Do I really need to get you that checkup? Maybe I could find a priest and do some exorcism shit. I’m telling you, if there’s a demon inside you, I get the rights to sell your story to Hollywood.”
“Shut the fuck up, you sorry cunt.”
“What? Do you have any idea how many people are suckers for this type of real shit?”
“Either help me brainstorm or get the fuck out, Dan.”
He throws his weight on the sofa and flings his arm over the back of it. Then he exaggeratingly flips his chestnut hair back. “I’m all for evil plans. What do you need?”
I knew he wouldn’t say no to trouble. Ever since we moved from London to the States ten years ago, we’ve plotted one disaster after the other.
Or, he has.
For Dan, it’s that rush of adrenaline. For me, it’s the distraction from the shadows that are often perched on my shoulder.
Either way, we never stop.
Stopping means killing ourselves slowly, and neither of us wants that.
Neither of us has the luxury of surrendering to our demons.
I put my elbows on my desk and steeple my fingers under my chin. “What I need is a background check.”
“On who?”
“A tech in the IT department.”
“I like where this is going. But aren’t two geeky guys the only techs there? Wait a fucking minute, did you change preferences? No judgment here, but I kind of need to know if I’m the reason you flipped the coin. I’m hot and all, but no way in fuck, Knox.”
“I could get attracted to the entire world, but not you, fucker. And no, I didn’t change preferences. There’s a new girl in the IT department.”
“Ohhh. Now we’re talking. But why would you need the background check? HR must’ve done their homework.”
“Not enough apparently, because she fooled them.”
“Blimey.” He grins with mischief. “I like her already.”
Don’t. I want to say that, but I stop myself at the last second. He’s already suspicious as it is and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. Considering his bastard tendencies, he’ll make a story out of this and sell it out to our friends like a pimp.
“She’s a nerd,” I say instead, trying to hold on to my calm while sabotaging his image of her.
“What’s wrong with nerds? They can be hot as fuck.”
“She’s a natural blonde.”
His playful expression disappears. “Pass.”
I can’t help the satisfied smile that breaks on my lips. He has a personal thing against them that he’s harbored for years. Daniel’s type is every woman on the planet aside from blondes—especially natural blondes.
“What are you going to do after you have the background check?” he asks more seriously.
“I don’t know. Play with her, punish her. Torment her. The sky is the limit.”
During lunchtime, I head to the IT department. Something I don’t usually do. Dan and Sebastian, another one of the junior partners who’s also Nathaniel Weaver’s nephew, gave me a weird look when I ignored our usual lunch gathering.
But I ignored them.
I’m on a mission that will take place on the “nerds’ floor,” as everyone at W&S calls it.
The receptionist desk is empty and I assume everyone is out for lunch. Everyone except her, because I didn’t notice her in the cafeteria yesterday or just now. Which means she takes her lunch here.
And bingo.
She’s sitting at her desk, her shoulders and back in a straight line as she eats a sandwich with one hand and types something on her keyboard with the other.
Just like yesterday, her hair is black and tied in a stiff bun, and the thick glasses cover half of her face.
Only her lips remain the same, petite and full, but they’re bare, with none of the red from two weeks ago.
Her entire face is free of makeup, but it’s still as delicate as I remember. Pale, too. So pale that I make out the thin veins in her throat when I’m within touching distance.
So pale that I left angry red bruises on her hips when I grabbed her by them while I thrust inside her heat.
At the memory, my dick hardens, tenting against my trousers, and I suppress a groan as I adjust it.
Down, boy. It’s not time for you…yet.
The distinct scent of orange blossoms and jasmine reaches me and I close my eyes to inhale it. Another thing that’s remained the same from that night. Another thing that I can’t stop thinking about.
She smells as delicate as she appears. She might be discreet, but something a lot more wild simmers beneath the surface.
Something I’ve had a taste of and can’t erase from my memories.
“If you were changing identities, you should’ve switched your perfume, too.”
She startles, the chair jolting with her sudden movement, and the sandwich remains suspended near her mouth.
Slowly, too slowly, she rotates the chair so that she’s facing me. Her throat bobs up and down with a thick swallow and I can’t stop watching those fine purple veins moving beneath the transparent skin of her neck.
The neck I held in a chokehold not so long ago, which I itch to repeat. Or maybe that’s not the part I’m most thrilled about. Maybe the part that’s stuck in my head is how I had her completely at my mercy, where her only way out was me.
“You.” It’s either a whisper or a pant, I’m not sure which. What I am sure about, however, is that she didn’t expect me.
Good.
I like taking people by surprise, both inside and outside the courtroom.
My lips curve in a sardonic smirk. “Me.”
“What are you doing here?” She searches around the IT department as if it’s her fortress and I broke entry into it. Or maybe she’s looking for an ally. Unfortunately for her, there is none.
The best way to crush someone? Leave them with no way out.
“Did you really think you could run away and I’d just forget about it?”
“Well, you should.”
“Just because I should, doesn’t mean I would.”
Her lips twist, and I assume it’s because she detected the sarcasm in my tone. “We have…nothing to do with each other.”
“I fucked your virgin cunt and made you scream until your voice turned hoarse, not to mention, the marks I left all over your pale skin. I’d say we have something to do with each other.”
She squirms visibly, and it takes her a few gulps to speak. “Even if that were the case—”
“Even if? Why are you acting as if it wasn’t real?”
“It’s in the past. It means nothing.” Furious determination laces her sweet, soft voice, and I don’t know which pisses me off more: the fact that she’s determined it means nothing or that what happened holds no significance to her in the first place.
“I haven’t agreed to that.”
“I don’t think your agreement is of importance.”
“I would argue otherwise. After all, I’m the only one at Weaver & Shaw who knows your real name, Anastasia.”
She releases a long puff of air. “It’s not—”
“Don’t utter that lie or you won’t get away with it this time.”
She blinks slowly, letting the sandwich fall to her lap. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth. All of it. And that includes your real name, true appearance, and your purpose for being here.”
“Jane is the only name I have. This is my actual appearance, the other one was fake. As for my purpose, I’m really just trying to work to keep food on the table.”
She’s still lying. I can tell when someone is, even if they’re perfect at it like she is. Usually, people give themselves away with tics or out-of-character body language, but she was completely still and calm when she uttered those lies.
Either she’s practiced them for a long time or she’s so used to lying that it doesn’t faze her anymore.
“That doesn’t look like working to me.” I motion at the screen behind her, where she has a Google page open with my name at the top.
She throws the sandwich aside and clicks something on the screen that makes it go black.
My smirk widens. “You’re not so subtle for a stalker.”
“I’m not a stalker.”
“Then what was that I just saw? If you want to know more about me, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’m only doing my research on all of the firm’s employees.”
“You should study law. Your impeccable lying skills would come in handy.”
“No, thanks. The profession suits shady people like you.”
“Hmm. Shady. That’s interesting.”
She purses her lips and I can tell she’s trying to fight with what she should say and shouldn’t. Then she levels me with a stare. “Well, aren’t you? I’m just trying to work and you’re making it impossible.”
“That’s because you’re shady yourself, Jane. Sorry, I mean, Anastasia. Did you really think I’d believe that your only purpose is to work here?”
“It is.”
“I’ll tell Nate about the Anastasia I fucked in Jersey and show him how she transformed into Jane. Then you can take up your case with him. I’m curious to see if he’ll believe you’re not here for ulterior motives.”
She curls her hand into a fist, then lays it on her chest before she whispers, “Don’t.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
“No… It’s… I need this job. Please.”
“Fuck that. Try again.”
“I really do. I’m…I can’t tell you anything, but I want no trouble and I won’t put the firm in jeopardy, I promise.”
“I don’t believe that. In fact, I’m sure trouble is all you know.”
“Please.”
“Begging doesn’t work with me. At least, not under these circumstances.”
She pauses and a curious spark ignites in her eyes and her face turns a deep shade of red.
Due to her skin tone, each and every one of her emotions shows on her face. But at this point, I’m not sure if it’s bashfulness or anger.
Is she faking that innocence again? Only, she wasn’t faking it two weeks ago. It was her first time, after all.
But it feels different now, like a silent rage that’s about to decimate everything in its wake.
Dead or alive.
She slowly stands up and fuck, I noticed she was petite when we walked to the hotel together, but I’m once again struck by how small she actually is. How the top of her head barely reaches my shoulder when she steps closer to me, eliminating the distance between us.
Her fingers dig into the lapel of my jacket and she says in a low tone, “If you let it go, I’ll give you what you want.”
My dick turns rock-fucking-hard, both at her closeness and at the way she looks at me. Even beneath the glasses, there’s a fire in her eyes. One I didn’t see when I bent her over and took her from behind.
And now, I’m tempted to repeat it. To remove the fucking glasses and sink inside her heat until she’s screaming and panting and unable to move.
The images turn more real with each passing second, until I’m two seconds away from bending her over her own desk and taking her from behind like a fucking animal.
“And what do I want, Anastasia?” I ask nonchalantly, despite the fucked up thoughts running rampant in my head.
She lets her hand drop to her side and says coolly, “Me.”
