Page 137 of Captive Ruin

My eyebrows go up. “You were cheating? On me?” I suppose I should be angry, but so much has happened, he’s so far in my past, I don’t really care. I’m just confused. Why is he telling me this? Why does he seem so scared?

“You… you already knew,” he stammers, unconvinced of his own words. “The photos…”

He’s not making any sense. “What photos?”

“The man said if I saw you again…” He spins toward Tony, retreats at whatever he sees in his face, and that puts him too close to Jorge. The big man shoves Scott away, and my ex-boyfriend screams in fright. A real, high-pitched sound of sheer terror.

“Please, no,” he begs, throwing up both hands.

Then he turns and runs, tripping over himself in his haste to escape.

I’m frozen to the spot, and can only watch him leave.

“Curious guy, this ex of yours,” Tony comments. “I take it you didn’t know he was cheating on you?”

“His hand,” I mutter to myself, then swing on Tony. “Did you see his hand? When he held them up?”

He meets my gaze but says nothing, and that only confirms what I already suspected.

Scott’s missing the middle two fingers of his right hand, the ones he likes to use most often.

The world seems to lurch, and I swallow bile, staring after Scott as he flees across the traffic, almost getting hit in his haste.

The cameras in my apartment. Were they there even when Scott came to visit, only what, three nights after the gala? Van Wyk works fast.

I always wondered how sharp that karambit was. Now I know.

Thirty-Two

Amelia

My new phone rings while I’m in the bath.

I splash water as I grab it, seeing an unknown caller on the ID. But only two people have this number, so it’s either Sierra or Lucy.

“Hey.”

“You spent eight thousand dollars of my money on lingerie at Bergdorf Goodman. On one set.”

I quail, the hot water suddenly feeling a lot colder.

Okay, three people have this number.

“First, Tony recommended that place,” I say. “I was quite happy shopping at Agent Provocateur.” Back when three hundred bucks for lingerie was a lot, and then that bastard went and cut it off me. “Second, they’re handmade.” Apparently. “And third, I bought just one set because it was eight thousand dollars. So I’m protecting your money while the bodyguards you assigned me are trying to corrupt me.”

“Corrupting you is my job,” Van Wyk growls. “And one set is not enough. Go back soon. Buy more.”

I hold the phone away from my ear, checking the screen. It still says unknown caller, and I’m beginning to agree with it. I replace the phone tentatively. “One set at eight thousand dollars isn’t enough?”

“From that shop, you don’t get very much for your money.”

I think of the black silk camisole I bought with matching barely-there lace panties, and bite at my lip. “Not as much as you might expect, no.”

“I assume the quality is good?”

“Well… yes.” It’s stunning, and so light it’s like air against my skin. I couldn’t resist it, despite how guilty I felt about the price.

“So go back and buy more.”