Chapter 27
ASHA
Bolstered by the desire to solve a murder in record time or commit one myself, I settled into my new workspace. The soft hum of the computer and the muted city sounds from far below did little to ease the disquiet in my mind.
Nothing like throwing myself into a case for a distraction.
First task on the agenda: research Niall O’Connell’s hit, starting with police reports, forensics, and autopsy results, which Rook had left for me on a hard drive.
I’d just started reading witness statements when a message came through on the girls’ group chat.
Daisy
I’ve waited long enough. Spill the tea on your night with McHottie before I hunt you down and cut a bitch.
Why were the small, cute ones always so violent?
Beth
I agree. This feels like cruel and unusual punishment. Why do you hate us, Asha?
I’ve been busy.
Daisy
Getting railed by McHottie?
Beth
Icing your pussy?
Busy WORKING. I’m serious, you guys. I have a lot on my plate right now.
Daisy
Just tell us about McHottie’s dick, then. Something to get us through until drinks on Friday.
Shit. Would Rook’s dumbass Mob wife rules allow drinks with the girls? They’d better. Friday nights with Daisy and Beth were sacred.
I might be able to put them off for a week, but I’d have to face them eventually. Which meant I needed to come up with a believable reason for the massive unmovable emerald on my finger and my one-night stand turning into my husband.
Maybe I could convince them we’d married because Rook needed a green card. Once this was all over, I’d tell Daisy and Beth the truth. But for now, to protect their safety, I had to keep this on the down-low.
I also had to give them a juicy detail or two to get them off my back.
Before I did that, I glanced at the ceiling. AC duct and a light fixture. There were probably a dozen other places Rook could fit a spy camera and I’d never find it. I hid the phone under the desk while I thumbed out my next message.
Fine. He had a very nice dick.
Daisy
How nice?
Probably the nicest I’ve ever seen.
Beth
BUT DID HE KNOW HOW TO USE IT?
Why are you shouting?
Beth
Just answer the question.
Yes, he knew how to use it. I really need to get back to work.
Daisy
One more question and we’ll leave you alone. Was it the best sex you’ve ever had?
I wished I could say no, but with the security camera footage still burned into my brain, there was no way to deny it without lying to my friends, and I hated doing that. They only wanted to be happy for me. They had no clue that the best sex of my life had also become the biggest disaster of it.
I sighed and answered them with the truth.
Honestly? I didn’t know sex could be that good. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to regular dick after this.
Daisy
Damn, girl.
Beth sent me a GIF of Ariana Grande fanning herself, and Daze sent one of a woman devouring a hot dog a little too enthusiastically.
Movement by the doorway caught my eye. Finn stood there, holding a paper take-out bag.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I glanced at the time on my phone, shocked to find it was already past one thirty. “Starving.” Especially with the heavenly smells filling the room.
“Shall I take it to the kitchen, or—”
“Just leave it with me. I’ll eat while I work.”
“Hope you like Chinese food.” He made his way to me with a few long strides and set the bag on the desk.
“It’s my favorite. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the boss.”
I reached for food and paused. “Rook ordered this?”
“Maybe he feels bad after your little argument earlier.”
He had plenty to feel bad about. The least of it was our disagreement this morning.
I peeked inside the bag. “Do you want some? It looks like there’s enough food for four people in here.”
“No thanks, Mrs. O.” He patted his stomach. “I’ve got a fight soon. Gotta watch what I eat if I’m going to make weight.”
He turned and headed back toward the living room.
I pulled containers out and caught the familiar green Jade Palace dragon logo. Inside were all my favorite dishes. The ones I only ever ordered as a special treat.
Rook’s attention to detail was becoming an annoying habit.
But he didn’t have to do nice things for me. He hadn’t needed to build the studio, learn my coffee order, or buy my favorite food. He could treat me like shit, even throw me in a dungeon, and I’d still have to do everything he asked.
Maybe Finn was right. Maybe Rook was trying to make things up to me in the only way he knew how.
Maybe he had a conscience after all.
Wow. That Stockholm syndrome kicked in real fast.
I wasn’t falling for that shit. Time to set some clear boundaries for my captor.
Don’t order me lunch.
Bubbles appeared immediately.
Husband
Most people would just say thank you.
Most people aren’t being held hostage and forced to work by a psychotic underworld crime lord.
You’re not being held hostage.
Interesting how he didn’t deny the psychotic underworld crime lord part.
Yeah right. FYI, it’s a little creepy how accurate my lunch order is.
Right down to my usual request for a side of chili sauce for my egg rolls.
Husband
Am I creepy or just doing what I can to keep my wife satisfied?
We both know which one it is.
If you say so.
Is there anything else I can do to help with your task?
Yeah. You can stop giving me whiplash.
No.
Actually, I have a question. Why are you being nice?
Husband
Would you prefer for me to be mean?
Of course not.
Although it would make it easier to stay mad at him.
Husband
I can be very agreeable when people are doing what I need.
And I can be very vengeful when people are ruining my life.
Ruining your life? That’s a wee bit dramatic, isn’t it?
Dramatic is forcing someone to marry you and having them thrown in jail when they don’t go along with your twisted plans.
How do you like your new studio?
I clenched my teeth.
I typed out a response, deleted it, tried again. On the fourth attempt, I gave up. Nothing I wrote made me sound like a decent or remotely sane person.
Husband
Asha, you’re allowed to enjoy the nice things I buy you.
That was the problem.
I hadn’t returned to the studio since Rook had shown it to me, afraid I’d like it too much. Afraid that if I let myself get excited, I was no better than the corrupt people who accepted his bribes.
And I’m also allowed to hate you.
Husband
You only hate me sometimes.
Damn him for stating what I loathed to be true.
I didn’t want to feel sorry for a murderer, even if his brother hadn’t deserved to be killed. And I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge that Rook’s absurd methods to get me here had been less evil than the alternatives—violence, threats, fear.
More than anything, I hated myself for falling into this mess so blindly. As an investigative journalist and true-crime podcaster, I should’ve spotted someone like Rook a mile away.
Wrong.
I’d spent my career shining lights into other people’s darkness and missed the man hiding in mine.