Chapter 10
TEN
LILITH
Dear Diary,
I didn’t mean to be so…
What is the correct word? Fucked-up? Maybe.
I’m not even sure that’s the right word.
You see, he instilled an unhealthy obsession in me.
And you know what a little craziness does to obsessions.
It causes fixations.
xox
One Year Later
Signing those papers was like releasing a deep, cleansing breath—one I had been holding for so long. Deven refused to divorce me, even though I told him I wanted nothing. He said that wasn’t acceptable because he wanted me.
But I stopped wanting him a long time ago.
An incredibly long time ago.
And now? I crave a man I run from.
Who I know I’ll run from again when he comes for me.
Though lately, I have seen him with another woman—one who looks nothing like me. She’s a reminder of everything I’m not, and I can’t say it doesn’t sting a little.
In reality, it stings a lot.
So, I keep my distance and stalk. Although I know a part of me wants him, I also know I’m in danger if he ever catches me.
I never wanted to want this man more than any other I’ve wanted in my life. But I do. However, I know it’s not the smartest thing to contemplate.
He’s dangerous, and the more digging I do, the more I uncover.
Reon is who he said he is. A very successful businessman. A billionaire…
He is also a killer.
But he is more…
It’s whispered about in the shadows, not spoken about in normal social circles.
Though those in the higher tax brackets don’t talk, let’s just say their staff do. Despite the NDAs they are forced to sign when they’re drunk, their words spill easily.
“Where are your black shoes?” I put my purse in the locker, and then I freeze.
“Cooper, where are your black shoes? It’s high standards tonight.
There will be people here you would never get the chance to meet in your lifetime.
So, it’s best behavior, and don’t act starstruck.
And wear Lucinda’s black shoes. This is not acceptable.
And don’t forget your eye mask. Discretion is what works best,” my boss says.
I nodded my head in acknowledgment of the fake name I had given him. I showed him my fake license, for which I had paid a lot of money, and he did a security check, but nothing came back.
That’s because this name was stolen, and the girl I stole it from is a girl in college who can’t afford to get a loan in her name. So I’m safe now back in the big city.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I’ve been working my way up. I had to gain the trust of my employer before they would move me to the bigger, more exclusive parties.
I’ve done some parties with people who hold power.
I served celebrities, even athletes, and each time, I change my hair color just to be safe in case someone were to recognize me.
Each party requires a different NDA to be signed, and I’m signing them with a different name each time.
I’m doing it to get to him. It all comes down to him.
Reon Holloway.
That night, I ran from him. I did so because, for some strange reason, I felt the night may not end as I’d hoped.
I don’t know if my feelings were right, but I wasn’t going to hang around to find out. My gut was telling me to run, and that night, I chose to listen to it.
Like any good crazy woman, I’ve had a taste of the dark side.
And now I’m a fiend for it and want more, not just for Reon but for the high of that night.
I haven’t done it since, though, sometimes, okay, maybe often—I carry that knife with me.
In my purse, in my bag. I pretty much take it everywhere.
Would I use it again?
Hmm, I’m not sure.
Maybe, if the situation is right.
“Cooper. Mask. Move it!” Sometimes, I forget to answer to that name, but I’ve used it for six months. Lilith Davenport hasn’t done much for almost a year, apart from signing divorce papers. And this job pays in cash. No traces allowed.
I slide on my black lace mask that matches my plain black skirt and black button-up shirt and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a tray.
I maneuver out of the doors and am immediately met with piano music.
At most events, this is the type of music being played.
It is not loud enough to interrupt people talking, but it is loud enough to drown out other conversations.
This event is solely for men, which is unlike other events in the past. I don’t see a woman anywhere apart from the servers. Strange.
Walking around with some sort of fish cake on my tray, I am not allowed to talk or make eye contact with anyone. Those are the rules, and once in a while, I glance up. But I never see him.
Even though I always hope I do.
“Fish. Disgusting.” I don’t look up at the comment. Just keep weaving through the crowd without looking back.
The one thing about Reon is that I have kept his voice lodged firmly in the back of my mind. I would know it even with my eyes closed. You don’t forget a voice like that easily. It’s burned into my brain.
Some would say I’m a stalker, and maybe I agree. I’ve sat outside his office in a car before, wondering if that day would be the day I’d see him.
A hand grasps my arm and turns me around. I look up; I can’t help it. The grip is strong, not enough to hurt me, but enough for me to know this man exudes power.
“I’ve been watching you.” His words echo in my head, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“You act lost, but each step you take tells me otherwise. You’re here for a reason.
Tell me what it is, girl.” Eyes as black as the night sky meet mine.
He’s dressed in a sharp suit, much like everyone else, but I’ve never seen him before.
“Arlo, leave her alone and move.” His hand drops from my arm and falls to his side.
Despite my head screaming at me to lower my gaze, I can’t.
My focus is pulled to a man with a gold pin attached to his black suit.
Arlo is dark and stormy, whereas this man stands as if he controls the room and everyone in it, and he indeed does control it by the looks of it.
The Creed of Forsaken Society.
And this man is their leader.
He nods at me, and I turn and hurry away, but not before I hear him say, “Arlo, you know better. It’s not playtime for you. Behave.” I don’t catch Arlo’s response, as I’m already melting back into the crowd.
Someone takes the last fish cake from my tray, and I put my head down and hurry to the kitchen to pick up another tray.
I spot Florence removing her clothes as she stands before two men.
She’s also a server, but she told me she doesn’t get paid to serve only food.
She’s here to walk around naked and let the men grope her, which is the norm for some parties with very high-profile clients.
Pushing the kitchen doors open, I drop my empty tray on the counter, grab a full one, and head back out.
Florence is now walking around naked with a tray of drinks in her hand.
I watch her for a moment as she passes the man from earlier, the one who distracted Arlo from whatever plan he had for me.
We all know he is in charge, and I learned that people address him as Lord. It’s weird, but whatever.
I didn’t even know that people and organizations like this existed until I started digging a little further.
I’m good with computers and can find almost anyone or anything.
My aunt, who raised me, told me I should have been a detective, yet somehow, I ended up marrying into money.
When I met Deven, I searched for everything I could about him.
I even hacked into police records to see if they had anything on him.
Maybe, just maybe, he had a darker side to him that would have intrigued me. But he turned out to be as clean as a newborn.
As I said, at first, I stayed away.
But, eventually, I gave in.
Which led me to where I am now—using a fake identity and stalking a man I would do well to stay away from—because my husband wasn’t enough for me.
“If you say so.” That voice sends shivers down my spine. I turn and look up through my lashes, and that’s when I see him. He is surrounded by three other men who are watching him with intent.
Since this event is so high-profile, I have seen senators, heads of police departments, and lawyers—all incredibly powerful men, and I would guess all of them extremely rich.
But I haven’t seen Reon at even one of these events in the last six months. However, I’ve seen pictures of him at other events… with her. Pictures of him kissing the top of her head and how she smiles up at him with love in her eyes.
I wish I could make her disappear.
I wonder if she knows the darkness that lurks inside of him.
I do.
I saw it firsthand.
And it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stepping closer while keeping my eyes down, I make my way to where he is. The men don’t pay me any attention, especially considering I’m not naked while serving food and drinks.
Florence steps up to the group, and I watch as Reon takes a step back and looks around the room before his eyes land on me.
I quickly avert my gaze and turn away. His hair is much the same—styled but in an unruly way—and he has a slight stubble on his jaw.
His tattooed fingers grip a glass of champagne from which he hasn’t drunk one sip.
“I hear these are fish cakes?” I freeze as his voice sounds from behind me.
I nod and keep my eyes downcast as I lift the tray for him to take one.
“I’m allergic to seafood.” His words stump me, and I pull the tray back toward myself and turn to continue my rounds through the room.
I want to tell him he’s lying about the allergy, but out of all my research on him, that never came up.
My hair has changed since the last time I saw him, and I may have dropped a few pounds since I no longer eat to kill the boredom of my marriage, so I doubt he knows it’s me. But I knew it was him without even meeting his eyes. I will always recognize him.
As I said, I’m a good stalker.
I’m heading to the other side of the hall when Florence taps me on the shoulder.
“Hey, I’m not feeling well. I think it was the fish,” she says, her eyes watery.
“Did someone hurt you?” I reach for her, but she pulls back, shaking her head.
“No. Can you please take over for me? I know you don’t do this, but I’m desperate, and Andy will fire me. But I just can’t tonight.” I glance past her to see Andy mingling with the attendees. As if he feels my gaze, he looks up, and his eyes narrow at me.
“I can’t, Florence. I’m sorry.” I don’t have any ill will toward Florence, but I would never do what she does.
Not that I think it’s degrading or anything.
I just wouldn’t. I’ll pull a knife out of a body and smile as I do it, but this is different.
You couldn’t pay me enough to do what she does.
“Andy is walking over here,” I say under my breath.
She doesn’t look over her shoulder, just plasters on a fake smile as she turns with her tray still in her hand.
“Oh, Andy, thank God. I was just saying to Cooper here that she should also get champagne. The boys are loving it.”
“Get back to it, Florence. Now,” Andy orders, ignoring Florence’s suggestion. She nods and hurries off. Then Andy’s gaze falls on me. “What was she saying?”
“What she told you.”
His lips purse together, and then he says, “How come I don’t believe you?”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
He goes to speak again when a hand lands on his shoulder. “Andy, one of your servers spilled champagne all down the front of Arlo’s suit, and we all know how Arlo can be. I’d suggest you go and fix the issue. It is what you are paid for,” the man says.
Automatically, I look down and start to turn away.
It’s him.
“Hello, Caterpillar. I’ve missed you. Did you miss me?”