Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
LOTTIE
Icould barely concentrate on the spreadsheet before me. My skin felt too tight, hyperaware of every sensation. The fabric of my dress against my thighs. The slight ache between my legs—a delicious reminder of what Andrei and Kaleb had done to me in this very office just hours ago.
I squirmed in my chair.
Andrei had stolen my panties after they cleaned me up. Said he was keeping them as a trophy.
The knowledge that I was bare beneath my dress made focusing on work next to impossible.
Three months ago, I was Charlotte Alexander, records clerk. Chronically single. Accident-prone and lonely. Did I mention hopelessly single?
Now I was Lottie. Director. Loved by three incredible men who made me feel cherished every single day.
I smiled, staring at nothing as my mind wandered to the future we could create together. Maybe a house with enough space for all of us. Kids someday, if that's what we all wanted. Growing old together, still making each other laugh—
My email notification chimed.
The subject line made my blood turn to ice.
SUBJECT: Your Little Secret
My hands trembled as I clicked it open.
I know about your arrangement with Wulf, Volkov, and that professor.
Quite scandalous, isn't it? Three men? How progressive.
I wonder what the financial sector would think of their golden boy Kaleb Wulf being in such an...
unconventional relationship. Could do serious damage to his business, don't you think?
If you want to keep this quiet, meet me at the park across the street. Immediately. Come alone, or I send everything to the press.
Tick tock, Charlotte.
My vision blurred. The park across the street. Right now.
I didn't think. Couldn't think. Only one thought pierced through the panic flooding my system.
Kaleb's business. His reputation. Everything he'd built could be destroyed.
I grabbed my phone and shoved it in my pocket, already moving toward the door.
"Lottie?" Ashlei called from her desk. "Your one o'clock—"
"Cancel it," I said, not stopping. "Family emergency."
The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn't risk anyone knowing. Couldn't risk the blackmailer following through on their threat.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator—faster, and I wouldn't risk running into anyone who might delay me. Who the fuck cares if I have sweat marks under my arms. My heels clicked against the concrete as I descended floor after floor, my heart hammering.
Kaleb's business. Andrei's reputation. Colby's career at the college.
All of it could come crashing down because of me. Because I was selfish enough to want all three of them.
The fresh air hit my face as I burst through the lobby doors. The park across the street was small—just a few benches, some trees, a fountain in the center.
I crossed at the light, barely registering the honking cars as I jaywalked.
There. Sitting on a bench near the fountain.
A woman in an expensive cream-colored pantsuit. Perfectly coiffed blonde hair. Oversized sunglasses hiding her eyes.
My stomach dropped.
I knew that posture. That handbag.
Patrice Wulf-Huntington rose to her feet as I approached, a cruel smile spreading across her thin lips.
"Right on time, Charlotte." She removed her sunglasses, her cold eyes raking over me with disdain. "So obedient. I can see why they keep you around."
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "What do you want?"
Patrice's smile widened, though it never reached her eyes. "Straight to the point. Good. I don't have time to waste on pleasantries." She gestured to the bench beside her. "Sit."
I remained standing. "I'd rather not."
Her expression hardened. "I said. Sit."
Something in her tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bench, leaving maximum distance between us. My phone pressed against my thigh through the fabric of my pocket.
"That's better." Patrice settled back, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. "Now, let's discuss how you're going to convince my son to give in to my demands."
"I'm not—"
She shifted, and the cream jacket opened just enough. A flash of black metal. A gun tucked against her ribs in a shoulder holster.
My mouth went dry. The words died in my throat.
"I thought that might help you reconsider your initial response." Her smile turned saccharine sweet again. "You see, Charlotte, I need Kaleb to release a rather substantial amount of money to me. But he's been... difficult lately. Ever since you appeared, actually."
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. My fingers slipped into my pocket, working blind as I tried to unlock my phone.
"Kaleb has always been a stubborn boy," Patrice continued, examining her manicured nails. "But he used to be malleable. Guilt works wonders on him, you see. Until you came along and ruined everything."
My thumb pressed what I hoped was the right sequence. Please let the passcode be correct.
"I've invested a lot of time and resources into a certain business venture with my husband," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Unfortunately, it requires capital we don't currently possess. Capital that my son has been unreasonably withholding."
I tapped at the screen, praying I was hitting the right icons. The group text thread. The call button at the top.
"Now, here's what's going to happen." Patrice leaned forward, her eyes glittering with malice. "You're going to go back to that office, and you're going to convince Kaleb that this investment is worthwhile. You'll tell him it's important to you. That you believe in it."
"He'll never—"
"Oh, I think he will." She waved a dismissive hand. "He's besotted with you. It's written all over his pathetic face every time he looks at you. All three of them are. Quite nauseating, really."
My phone felt hot against my palm. Had I managed to dial? Was anyone listening?
"If you refuse," Patrice continued, adjusting her jacket so the gun was visible again, "I have quite the dossier compiled.
Photos. Timestamps. Names. Everything the press would need to destroy all three of their reputations.
And that little club they run? The Sandbox, isn't it?
How delightful that would be for the newspapers. "
She stood, smoothing down her jacket. "The investment requires two million dollars. I'll send you the details. You have forty-eight hours to convince Kaleb, or I go public with everything. Do we have an understanding?"
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Andrei. Please be listening. Please.
"Charlotte." Patrice's voice sharpened. "I asked if we have an understanding."
"What makes you think I won't just tell Kaleb about this conversation?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Her laughter was cold. "Because you're a smart girl who doesn't want to see the men she loves destroyed.
" She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"I've been dealing with difficult people my entire life, dear.
I know how to make problems disappear. And you, Charlotte, are just a problem I can solve if needed.
I've made people meet with certain untimely deaths, adding you to my list would be easy. "
The gun flashed again beneath her jacket.
"Two million dollars. Forty-eight hours. Or I ruin them all." Patrice slid her sunglasses back on. "Oh, and do keep that phone in your pocket, won't you? I'd hate for you to accidentally call anyone while we're having such a nice chat."
My blood turned to ice.
She knew.
Patrice smiled, that cruel twist of her lips making my stomach churn.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice your hand moving in your pocket?
I wasn't born yesterday, Charlotte. But here's the thing—even if someone is listening, they have no proof of anything.
Just my word against yours. And who do you think people will believe?
A respected woman of society, or a nobody clerk playing dress-up as a director while sleeping with her bosses? "
She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder. "Forty-eight hours, Charlotte. The clock is ticking."
I sat frozen on the bench, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. My phone was still in my pocket, pressed against my palm.
Had anyone answered? Had they heard?
Or was I completely and utterly alone in this nightmare?