Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2) (9 page)

Him admitting that gives me a warm feeling, and I can see where he’s coming from. It wasn’t all bad between us, we definitely had some good in there.
 

“Okay.” I smile.
 

“This is a good date though, no matter which number it is. I mean, I’m having a good time. I have you, I have pancakes. All I need.”
 

He’s excellent at this wooing stuff.
 

“I went all out for you, as you can see,” I say, motioning toward the mess that is my ensemble with an ironically elegant flourish. My hair is piled up on top of my head in the messiest bun imaginable, and I’m wearing an old pullover paired with yoga pants that have definitely seen better days. I don’t have any makeup on, but I do have the post-coital glow that only comes from orgasm after orgasm, so I’ve got that going for me, I guess.
 

Ben untangles his fingers from mine, then reaches over and cups my cheek with his hand. “You’re beautiful, and this is all I need.”
 

“You and me and breakfast food,” I tease, trying to cover up the way the soft touch of his hand makes me shiver. I place my hand over the back of his, then turn my head and kiss his palm.
 

I know he’s told me that things are different now, and he’s shown me glimpses of it for sure, but this
feels
different. Old Ben would have showered me with expensive things, would’ve taken me to the hippest restaurant in town (and he could’ve this time, he’s the co-owner of one of them). This—the two of us, uncomplicated—was all I ever wanted.
 

And now, here, I have it.
 

I’m
happy
.
 

“So, it’s been a while since we met, and I’m wondering if anything has changed.” With the way he’s grinning, I’m sure he’s playing with me, but I’m willing to play right back. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
 

“Hmmm,” I say, tapping my finger against my chin. “Well, I’m twenty seven, and I like long walks on the beach, love the way the sand feels between my toes.” I do my best impression of a contestant on a cheesy dating game show, because Ben already knows all of the things about me that really matter. “I like watching the sun set over the city, and chocolate ice cream is my weakness.”
 

Thoroughly amused, Ben leans forward, close enough so that only I can hear him. “I can think of a few things I’d like to do with that chocolate ice cream.”
 

I give his arm a playful smack. “I told you not even two hours ago that if we’re going to do this that
doing things
with chocolate ice cream is strictly off-limits for the foreseeable future. You’re supposed to be wooing me.”

“What, I can’t woo you with a list of ways I’d like to lick that ice cream off of your body?”
 

Oh, imposing a no-sex rule on this is going to be the end of me, I can feel it.
 

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” I’m basically opening the door for him to get dirty again, so this is a dangerous road for us to travel down if he’s not going to stay on message.
 

“Let’s see…I’m twenty eight, and I still have my very first video game console. I’m remodeling my apartment, and learning to lay tile, because I figure it’s good to know how to do that kind of a thing. I always thought it was easy. It looked easy, at least. I took for granted that it would be a piece of cake for me, but now I’m realizing how easy it is to screw up. So, I’m learning.”
 

It’s impossible for me to miss the double meaning there.
 

Ben pulls my hand up to his lips, and presses a kiss against my fingers.
 

We finish our meal, and after Ben pays the check, we walk out of the diner. Ben’s arm is around my shoulder, and mine is around his waist. He pulls me in close, presses a kiss against my temple. I smile, and turn to look across the street, where I’m almost certain that I see someone hidden in a car, with a telephoto lens pointed at us. It’s something that I’ve gotten used to since my parents’ scandal broke, and it’s not like I can do anything about it, so I just turn back into Ben’s embrace, and try to forget about the outside world for a while.
 

* * *

Ben and I separate two blocks away from my apartment, because I need to make a stop at a specialty store to pick up some ingredients that I’m going to use for some baking that I’m planning on doing later. He’s reluctant to go, but he’s supposed to meet Felicity later on this morning. Before we part, Ben pulls me behind a small pillar decorating the side of a building, giving us a little privacy from the foot traffic on the sidewalk.
 

With one hand rooted to the concrete, and the other on my hip, he gives me a long, lingering goodbye kiss. His soft touches are electric, even just the feeling of his fingertips brushing across my cheeks. This is new, but it’s not. It’s familiar, but thrilling.
 

I’m determined not to talk myself out of this feeling, though. I’m going to bask in it, and not worry about the other shoe dropping.
 

As he walks away toward his awaiting car, he turns and looks at me every few steps, then gives up on that completely, walking backwards so he can keep his eyes on me. I laugh at him, and am wearing a smile so big that it actually hurts my face. Somehow, the goofy wave that he gives me when he gets into the car makes that smile even bigger.
 

I feel like I’m floating all through the market, and when I return home with my purchases, I’m still riding high as I set my bag down to unlock my door.
 

Then a chill washes over all that bliss when I see someone walk up behind me in the reflection of the glass panels on the door. I do my best not to acknowledge that I’ve even seen him, and instead reach into my cross-body bag to find my pepper spray.
 

“You won’t need it,” says the man behind me. He follows that up with an incredibly creepy, “Miss Blake.”
 

Because I don’t know what else to do right now, and because I stupidly decided to forego the security detail that my lawyer—Nancy—suggested that I hire, I try to scare him a little.
 

“I have mace, and there is surveillance on this property,” I say without even turning around. Both of these things are true, although what good they’ll do me? I have no idea. My heart his pounding, fear and adrenaline rushing through my veins. “So think long and hard about what you’re going to do before you do it.”
 

I can see what looks like a smile in the glass door pane.
 

“I’m not here to hurt you. But it is in your best interests to speak to me. And you’re going to do what I tell you.”
 

I figure maybe this is a reporter trying a new tactic to get me to talk to him, when I haven’t been willing to talk to anyone else.
 

“I don’t have any comments on my parents’ case. Nothing you say to me is going to change that.”
 

Then, another chilling thought comes over me. What if this isn’t someone who wants me to comment on the case, what if it’s someone they stole from? What if it’s someone here to collect on their debt? Yet again, in the span of two minutes, I’m left wondering what in the hell I was thinking turning down that security detail. It seemed like a ridiculous notion at the time, and I had wanted to seem independent and unaffected, but everything about that seems incredibly stupid now, faced with this crippling fear.
 

“Turn around,” he says with authority. “We’re standing in public, Marisa. I’m not going to hurt you here.”
 

Meaning…maybe he
would
hurt me if we were somewhere else. Can’t let myself think about that, though. It’s not going to get me through this confrontation.
 

I look to my left, and to my right, hoping that Ben had a change of heart, or just wanted to come back for another kiss, but sadly, there’s no sign of him. Or anyone else, for that matter. Great.
 

“What do you want?”
 

“I want you to do something for me.”
 

I let out an unladylike snort. “No.”
 

“Trust me,” he says, his voice low. “When you see this, you’ll do it.”
 

It’s dangerous and stupid, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I turn around. I’m hit with a spark of familiarity from him, but he’s difficult to recognize under the baseball cap and sunglasses he’s wearing. But he’s definitely young - he can’t be much older than I am, and despite the disguise, he’s nicely dressed. He doesn’t look like an investigative reporter, so I’m not sure what he could possibly want. Nothing good, though, that’s for sure.
 

“What is it that you want from me?” I ask.

“Take a look,” he says, handing me a large, thick envelope.
 

Without giving it much thought, I gently take the envelope from him, almost painfully curious about what’s inside. I’ve never been served before, but I don’t think this is how it goes. This must be something else.

“You’ve been seeing Ben Williams again.”
 

The “again” strikes me as odd, but given the whole situation at the moment, I’m not going to call him out on that. I’m guessing he was the one in the car with the camera pointed at us when we left the diner? God, I wish I had the sense to take down the vehicle’s license plate number.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter that he knows.
 

“I haven’t been keeping that a secret.” There hasn’t been much of a secret to keep, and we haven’t even seen that much of each other, really. Unless this man has been watching my home.
 

“I want something from him, and you’re going to get it for me.”
 

I laugh at his gall. “No, I’m not.”
 

“Open that envelope.” He nods at my hands.

I do as he says, out of nothing more than panicked curiosity. My fingers tremble as I pull up the prongs keeping it fastened, then I look inside and see the edges of what has to be photo paper. Shit. A feeling of dread washes over me as I reach inside and pull them out.
 

Tears spring to my eyes when I see what is on them. Picture after picture that I’m having difficulty even holding onto; all the strength in my body drains a little more with every snapshot I look at. It’s a violation. It’s disgusting, and illegal, and…

“How did you even get these?” I ask, voice trembling.

Picture after picture of my sister, naked and having sex with some man whose face I can’t even make out. Was he in on this? My stomach rolls as I put the pictures back in the envelope. I’ve seen enough.
 

“Bodyguards can’t protect her from a telephoto lens, Marisa.”
 

“You son of a bitch,” I say. I consider slapping him, but my arms won’t move. I’m just…frozen.
 

He gives me this evil grin, like he can read my mind. “You don’t want to mess with the person who has a digital file of those pictures.”
 

“What are you going to do with them?” I try to keep my voice steady, because I don’t want this man to know how scared I am, but I fail spectacularly.
 

He shrugs. “That depends on what you’re willing to do for me.”
 

“Who are you?”
 

“That’s not really any of your concern,” he says with a laugh. “It’s definitely not relevant to this transaction.”
 

“What’s the transaction?” I ask, desperation coloring my voice. “Do you want money?” This asshole can have every last cent in my bank account if he agrees not to release these pictures.
 

“No,” he says, long and drawn out. “All the money in the world couldn’t get you out of this. I want something that money can’t buy. Not yet, at least.”
 

“What is it?” I ask, rapidly losing my patience.
 

“Your boyfriend Mister Williams is developing a software that I am incredibly interested in. So interested, in fact, that I’m going to release these pictures of your sister to every website, every tabloid, if you don’t get it for me.”
 

I don’t think this man even knows what he’s asking. I don’t know the first thing about computers, and I know for a fact that I couldn’t get into Ben’s computer to get this software even if I did. And it’s not like I can just ask him for it.
 

“How am I supposed to do that?”
 

He shrugs. “That’s not my concern. I’ve left a thumb drive and a card with my information on it in that folder. You have a week, Miss Blake.”
 

With that, he has the nerve to tip his hat at me. “Oh,” he says, like he’s remembered something important. “I’ll be watching you, so…watch yourself.” Then he turns and walks away.
 

Belatedly, I realize that I should’ve followed him, but I’m too stunned and scared to move. Eventually, and with great effort, I manage to get my door unlocked. I make it just inside, bolt the lock, then lean against the wall, and slide down to the floor, the pictures in my hands. I want to destroy them, to watch them burn, but I don’t. Maybe there’s something inside that could help me figure out who this man is, and who took these pictures.