Chapter 7
Paige
The folder in my hands is a live grenade. I know, with quiet certainty, that the resulting explosion will obliterate my life. Every page inside holds a piece of me, every lie shucked open and gleaming, exposed by a man who should never have unearthed any of my secrets.
But he did.
The world contracts to the papers in my grip. My greatest shame typed in large font. The fabrication that built my name carved into a stone that could detonate everything.
If this gets out, if anyone learns that I forged my degree, I’ll be ruined. I’ll lose my job, my career, and maybe even my meager savings if I get sued. After all, I routinely touch documents worth millions of dollars at a private library. I’m the sole person responsible for some of them.
And I lied about my qualifications.
I put myself through school using every loan I could get my hands on, but by the time I finished the second semester of my grad program, I couldn’t imagine borrowing more. I never could’ve paid it all back.
So, I faked all my credentials. My transcripts, my degree, my résumé.
Every time I sent in a job application, I had to drink half a bottle of wine before I had the courage to click “submit.” Because I understood that Paige—the one who fabricates grades and risks futures—would get someone killed. Again.
In this moment, though, that pivotal decision just might ruin my entire life.
Could the library press charges? Nausea roils in my stomach, and my palms start to sweat. I mean, did I break the law? I know it’s unethical, but…
I don’t think I want to find out about any legal ramifications.
I drop the folder onto the coffee table. “How?”
Vanya shrugs, dismissing my question. The silent threat settles over my throat like a guillotine.
“What do you want?” Like I don’t already know.
The book.
His smirk confirms my thoughts. He recognizes that he has me over a barrel.
If Vanya follows through on outing my lie, I’m finished.
At the very least, I’ll never work in acquisitions or document restoration again.
My hands shake on my thighs, my fingertips buzzing. Is this what panic feels like? “I need time. Our most recent collection isn’t catalogued. We haven’t even opened all the crates yet.”
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as if he’s assessing my integrity. “How much time?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe three days, if I push everything else.” I cradle myself, a chill shuddering through my chest. “Assuming it’s even there. You haven’t given me much information, just a line.”
Though I’ve already laid eyes on the book, I’m not about to tell Vanya that. I need time to figure out what to do.
His lips curve up in a predatory smile. “You’ll find it. You’re good at what you do, Paige.”
My body tries to react to the praise, but the glint in his eyes keeps my mind in control. That gaze, darker in the lamplight, watches me like a falcon stalking a field mouse.
He has me right where he wants me, and I can’t do a damn thing.
Earlier today, when he didn’t show at the library, I’d dared to hope he’d given up. Now I understand this shit show will continue until he gets exactly what he wants.
In one smooth, graceful motion, Vanya rises. “I think that’s enough for now. You’ve had a rough night. Let me take you somewhere nice.” Charming as always, he extends a hand.
“I…umm…” Apparently, my brain has chosen this moment to stop forming coherent thoughts and sentences. “What?”
“When was the last time you did anything for yourself?” He stands too close, the scent of his subtle cologne burrowing under my skin. “Drank some good wine, ate some good food, allowed someone to take care of you for a night?”
It’s been so long, I can’t even answer. I just shake my head, my eyes flicking back to the folder on the coffee table. He has a collar wrapped around my throat.
Until further notice, I’m his.
“Then let’s celebrate.” He slides his hand over my shoulders, sparking fear all the way down to my toes. “I’ll drive.”
I desperately want to slap the smug, victorious expression from his face. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest. “Celebrate what?”
“Our partnership.” He swings open the front door with a practiced flourish, like he’s performed this action a hundred times.
Like, in the end, he always wins.
And like the obedient leashed dog I am, I follow.