Chapter 10
I woke up to the kind of silence only money could buy thanks to Treason. Too high up for the world to reach me, but the baggage was still attached. It was always packed and ready to follow me, even in Treason’s penthouse.
He’d uprooted my life without asking or warning.
Like I was a piece on the board, he could slide into position.
It made it hard to breathe, let alone sleep, anticipating the day his lust turned to anger.
I was slowly realizing there was no way out.
Treason had me locked out of my place and arrested easily.
I couldn’t risk putting Rayven in danger.
For the first time in my life, I thought, What would Sloane do ?
On night three, I heard her whisper, “If you know how to speak to a man’s spirit, he’ll follow your voice without even realizing he’s doing it.”
That echoed in my head louder than the one screaming at me to fight Treason on his level. Then, Sloane warned me about that, too.
“Control is quiet, Vie. Loud women get dismissed. Smart women get things done. Which one do you want to be?”
This nightmare felt reminiscent of the hell I escaped. A luxurious lifestyle that many envied was nothing more than a golden cage. For now, this was my life, so I had to make the best of it.
Swinging my legs to the floor, I stared at the skyline stretching beyond the glass.
The clouds moved slowly, like even time had to respect this floor.
Footsteps moving around the hallway piqued my curiosity.
It would’ve gotten me murdered in a horror movie, but I opened the door and found Treason in the kitchen bobbing to whatever track flowed through his headphones.
He was fine and always so goddamn composed. It drove me insane and horny enough to leave the Gala with him.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, pulling his headphones down. They dangled around his neck while he dabbed his sweat-riddled forehead with a hand towel.
“Yeah, you did. Thanks a lot.”
Treason smirked. “Lying ass.”
“You knew that when you sentenced me to this manor or misery,” I quipped, tilting my head.
“I’m sure there’s a cell still open?”
“Do you get up this early every day?” I asked.
“Yeah, I have a lot of shit to do. Who else will pay the bills in this manor of misery ?” Treason asked.
“Not me. I don’t even wanna be here.”
My eyes flipped to the wall, anything but watching his arrogant smirk.
“I’m going to shower before work. Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, his voice full of threat, before walking to his bedroom.
Dragging my feet to the bedroom, I hung my clothes and organized my belongings.
That worked up an appetite, so I ventured to the kitchen and opened the fridge.
The shelves would've been bare if not for the water, fresh-squeezed juice from a local source, and a few prepped meals that needed to be discarded.
Just like a man.
Treason’s footsteps neared, holding the phone to his ear, telling someone he didn’t have time for whatever they were saying.
When he neared, I could hear a female on the other end.
Not that I cared, but I needed his attention, so she had to wait.
Snatching his phone, I glimpsed the name Thandie before hanging it up.
“There’s nothing to eat here,” I fussed.
“I’m not home often, and it’s usually just me.”
“So there won’t be any playmates poppin’ up for a visit?”
“None, so go to the store and grab what you want. Ward will take care of it.”
“ We’re going grocery shopping.”
“We?”
“You’ve been speaking French since we met.
Don’t get confused now.” Treason’s face grew rigid with annoyance, but I didn’t care.
He’d get the red-carpet treatment until the election, or he grew tired of me.
Whichever came first, and I was praying for the latter.
“Besides, it might help if people see you doing regular shit.”
He nodded, agreeing. “Way to get your head in the game, Pippen .”
“Please,” I groaned, my hand on his chest stopping him from coming any closer, “Winning this is my only shot at freedom. You get the job, and I can get the hell away from you.”
Treason chuckled, starting the coffee machine.
“Our names are linked for life, might as well enjoy the perks.”
“No thanks. I need a shower. Where are the towels?” I asked because the guest bathroom lacked necessities like his refrigerator.
“ Our bedroom.”
Rolling my eyes, I marched down the hallway.
Treason’s cologne still hung bold, expensive, and annoyingly good in the air.
His bedroom wasn’t what I expected. A pair of shoes kicked near the dresser.
A cufflink tray with one missing. A glass on the nightstand, half full of melted ice and something amber.
My eyes dropped to the slightly cracked drawer on the nightstand. Curiosity won again, tugging it open, expecting something juicy.
Gummy Bears. Bags of Haribo brand.
Treason Westbrook, who could have imported gourmet chocolate, kept gummy bears in his nightstand like a kid sneaking snacks after bedtime. Something about it was so human, I smiled even when I didn’t mean to.
His bathroom wasn’t about vanity any more than his bedroom.
I grabbed a towel and climbed into the steam, trying to wash away the last few days.
Internally, my nervous system was a wreck, but his fancy shower helped to relax the tension.
Twenty minutes passed without my realizing it.
I stepped out, wrapped in a thick towel that could’ve passed for a blanket.
Then Treason appeared, leaning against the doorframe, watch gleaming, and his mouth curved into that smug half-smile.
I blinked, startled. “You don’t knock?”
A passionate fluttering attacked the nape of my neck as Treason raked his bottom lip between his teeth. He studied every bead of water dripping from my polished white tones to exposed shoulders that led him to my chest. I snapped my fingers, forcing Treason’s eyes to my face.
“You don’t lock ,” he countered, “You asked for a towel, not the whole damn bathroom.”
“I like this bathroom,” I admitted, stepping around him with whatever dignity a damp towel could offer. “You’re not as polished as you pretend to be.”
His smile didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly, like I’d touched something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Everything isn’t for everybody’s eyes and ears.” The soft ding from the elevator startled me, followed by an animated voice that floated through hidden speakers. “Get dressed. We have company.”
Treason walked off, and I followed behind to the guest room, crashing into a comfortable voice yelling, “Treason, let’s go! We’re already behind.” Until she rounded the corner and caught me standing in the hallway. “Looks like y’all are having fun getting acquainted.”
“Who are you?” I asked, getting to the point.
“Fallon Nichols. Treason’s chief of staff.”
“Are you fuckin’ him?”
My question made Fallon shift, staring at the floor, but Treason stepped in before she could land a rebuttal.
I shrugged, “I don’t care if you are. I’d just like to know what kind of circus I’m a part of.”
“Watch your mouth. Fallon is my homegirl, so don’t worry. You have me all to yourself.”
“You sure you don’t want him?” I asked, turning to her.
Fallon chuckled, “Not a fuckin’ chance.”
“Glad y’all are bonding because you’re with Navie today,” Treason ordered, picking up the coffee cup.
“What?” I yelped while Fallon was just as confused.
“It’s not a debate, Fal. I have shit to do, since we’re so behind. Get Navie up to speed.”
“I don’t want to spend my day with your flunkie who moved my shit out of my apartment,” I seethed.
“Spare me the I’m not a girl's girl’ speech. You could’ve killed him, and trust me, I don’t want to spend my day with you either,” Fallon spat with impressive sass.
“If I wanted him dead, he would’ve been,” I scoffed at her dramatic recount of events, “At most, he was headed for a long nap, which could’ve done him some good since he doesn’t sleep.”
A pattern I quickly picked up on because I wasn’t sleeping either. I caught his feet shuffling up and down the hallway at odd times of the night.
“I’ll let the two of you get to it. I’m already late. Play nice.”
Treason kissed my cheek like the star married couple in a family sitcom. I groaned, disgusted, while he gloated in the elevator, smiling just as the doors closed.
“Rylo is on his way. Get dressed. We have a busy day ahead of us,” Fallon ordered, sitting on the couch, typing on her phone. “I’m assuming you have something appropriate to wear?”
“You went through my shit, so you should know,” I sneered.
Fallon groaned, subtly shaking her head in disbelief that she was stuck with me. Sharing the same sentiments, I marched to my bedroom to curate a look fitted for the executive liaison’s girlfriend. One that shut Fallon’s mouth for the day.
When I returned, Rylo snapped his fingers, “Ohhh, Miss Mamas! I like that outfit.”
“Thank you.”
“It’ll do for now, but shopping is on our to-do list,” Fallon quipped.
“Great, I love shopping. Especially when I’m not paying for it.”
I sauntered over to Rylo in my shamrock-colored trousers and matching fuzzy green off-the-shoulder cardigan for a sophisticated yet sexy look.
I wasn’t in control of much, but my wardrobe was one of them.
I refused to dress like an eighty-year-old woman sitting in the first pew of a Pentecostal church—no matter who was paying.
“Alright, plug your information in on this page,” Rylo instructed, handing me the iPad.
Reading the word telephone prompted me to ask, “Where is my phone?”
Everything moved so fast that it was easy to forget. There were no close friends I needed to keep in touch with. Only Rayven and since my baby left the nest, she had friends of her own.
“What did you do to it?” I asked, catching the phone Fallon pulled from her purse.
“Take that up with your boyfriend .”
“I’m taking it up with the person who handed it to me.”