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God fucking damn.
So this is what he does with his free time, while waiting to chauffeur us around.
He’s leaning against the car with Marissa next to him, and she’s passing him a thick envelope bulging with what has to be cash.
Cash.
Untraceable.
No bank records.
Now, I fucking know exactly how those candid photos keep appearing, caught by some mysterious stalker who always knows just where we’ll be to catch us in our most private moments.
You might think I shouldn’t be angry when that was the entire point of this illusion.
But the fury, the betrayal inside me turns black, burning like a volcano.
“I trusted you,” I bite off, the only words I can think of, but they stop Rick short.
“. . . sir? I’m . . . I’m sorry, what?”
“I trusted you! How long have you been my right hand, Merrick? How long have you been more involved in my life than anyone else? My shadow. Always there. And you took advantage of that.”
“I ... I ...,” he stammers, but I can hear the guilt in his voice, clear as day. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Marshall—”
“Cut the shit. Fuck yes, you do. And I’m entirely out of patience for your backstabbing.” I turn to stalk into the bedroom. I do not have time for this. I need to get dressed and get downtown ASAP before Aunt Clara makes a hideous mistake. “How much was she paying you to spy on me? On us? Was it worth it, you asshole?”
Dead silence.
His next breath sounds almost like a sob.
As I step back into the bedroom, Elle glances up from the floor, then recoils, blinking as she looks at me.
What’s wrong? she mouths.
Fucking everything.
I can only shake the lump of solid fury masquerading as my head.
There’s nothing I can explain while Rick is whining in my ear.
“It’s not about the money,” he says weakly. “It’s—it’s my granddaughter, sir. You don’t understand, I—I didn’t know she was in trouble with money. She started doing these adult films to pay for medical school, and Miss Sullivan found out. She threatened me—she said she’d make sure the whole world knew, and Emily would never get a job in her field. I couldn’t let that happen—”
“You could have told me the truth, Merrick. You could have turned to me for help. I could have protected you, and her. Instead, you ratfucked me. Don’t bother coming to collect your last paycheck. It’ll come in the mail from corporate.”
I don’t wait for his response.
I hang up and rip my closet door open, dragging out a pair of slacks from the dry cleaning bag.
“August, what’s going on?” Elle’s on her feet, padding over to touch my arm.
“Rick was the shithead taking photos of us. He’s fired,” I snap, turning to kiss the top of her head. “Grab a shirt and see if you can turn it into something presentable. We’ve got to go now.”
“Go?” Her wide, worried eyes track me as I kick my track pants off and step into my slacks. “Go where?”
“Marissa Sullivan’s office,” I growl. “Before Aunt Clara does something we’ll all regret.”
It’s a miracle I don’t get pulled over for traffic violations.
