Empire of Lies

Michael Before We “Met”

(Well, Slightly After)

This woman is definitely going to be a problem…

Meredith stands in the doorway of the penthouse suite, her stu

I’ve officially broken every rule in my book, shattered every personal law.

“Why are you leaving right now?” she asks. “Right when you think I’m sleeping...”

“You were sleeping.” I trailed her lip. “I told you to stay in the bed.”

“I was listening to you talk until you stopped.” She smiles, cementing her title as the sexiest woman I have ever met. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked so much in between sex this much.”

“Me either…”

“You could finish telling me about your tattoos or your travels,” she said. “Or I could tell you a secret about what I do on the side when I’m not working at Vogue.”

“I already know about that.”

“Huh?” She raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I already know what you do when you’re not working,” I said, quickly thinking of a way to recover from that near-reveal. “You swipe left on every guy you see on Tinder.”

She laughed. “No, not that. If you come back in, I can—”

I cut her off with a kiss, silencing her sentence before she can talk me into staying. Before she can make me lose what’s left of my dwindling restraint. I want this night to last longer, just as much as she does, but I can’t.

“Have a good night, Meredith,” I say, slowly pulling away from her. “Happy New Year.”

“You’re really not going to come back in and help me christen a few more services in this four-thousand-dollar a night room?” she asks, her cheeks red. “I didn’t get a chance to do as much on you…”

“The penthouse suite is forty thousand dollars a night.” I step back, beyond tempted. “And no, I won’t come back at all.”

I walk away from her before she can ask another question, before I can go against my better judgment and end this night buried deep in her pussy. Pressing the elevator button, I stare at her until the doors glide open, taking her in for what should be the last time.

As the car goes down, I try to convince myself that what I’ve done is okay. That months from now, when she sees me again, she won’t suspect anything until I stuff her into the back of a van and make her disappear for a while.

When I make it to the lobby, I pull out my personal cell phone and notice a new text message from the only person who has this number. My brother.

Trevor: I had one of the ru

I reach into my coat, feeling around for my car keys, but they’re not there.

Shit. 

Walking over to the front desk, I show my ID and request a duplicate room key for the penthouse suite. I take the elevator up to the room once more, and the moment I step inside, I see Meredith fast asleep on the couch.

Completely naked, she’s sprawled across the cushions, hanging off the edge. Her face is in danger of hitting the glass coffee table is she moves another inch.

My keys are on the minibar, right within reach.

Grab the keys and fucking leave … If she hurts herself, so be it. 

Without thinking, I walk over to her and slip my hands under her thighs—lifting her up and carrying her into the bedroom. I grab a silk robe from the closet and slowly help her into it before tucking her under the covers.

As I turn to walk away, she grabs my arm and her eyes flutter open.

“Yes, Meredith?”

“I really like you already…”

I don’t respond to that. I gently push her hand away, and wait a few seconds before she falls asleep again.

Grabbing my keys, I get the hell out of the hotel and suck in as much fresh air as I can when I get to the street. I make my way down the block to the closest Sweet Seasons Café until I reach my brother’s car. I look over my shoulder before opening the passenger’s side door and shutting myself inside.

“For the record,” Trevor says, the moment I lean back in the seat, “I think you’re getting sloppy.”

“In that case, I think you’ve gained twenty pounds in two weeks.”

“It’s part my next assignment.” He laughs. “Middle aged man in less-than perfect shape. I need to gain weight to play the part. Otherwise, there’s no way any of the suburban moms will believe I’m a widowed father. I look too good as the regular me, you know?”

I want to laugh, but he’s pissed me off already.

“I’m not getting sloppy,” I say. “I’m being thorough.”

“By going on a goddamn date with the girl?” He scoffs. “Is fucking her a part of this particular job? I seem to have missed that part in my notes.”

“I didn’t fuck her.” I lied.

“You mean yet?” he asks, but I don’t answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen you insert yourself in people’s lives before, but not in a way where they can actually remember your face. Don’t you think that’ll be a big problem months from now when she’s supposed to go missing?”

“I was just making sure that she got home safe.”

“And her home is in the Four Seasons? In the penthouse suite?”

“It is tonight.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “I told you that you didn’t need to do this job. I could’ve had someone else do it. Hell, I could’ve done it.”

“You’re a glorified bookkeeper. I’m the best at this for a reason.”

“Even champions can have an off-year.” He lights a Cuban cigar. “Anyway, the clients want to know how much you’ll charge to change this to a C-23 job.”

“I’m not interested in anything extra for this,” I say. “Your guys said they wanted her missing in six months and safely returned in thirty days after a media blitz. That’s all they’re getting from me.”

“Well, they’ve had a change of heart.” He pulls out an envelope. “They’re also offering a significant change in fees, too.”

“Please tell me you’re not walking around the streets of this city with a fucking envelope of hit-money.”

“I know better than that.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s the bank codes and the pending amounts. To be paid out the moment she’s gone and you can confirm she’ll never return, and her body will never be found.”

Curious, I take the envelope from his hands and open it. Everything I need to know is printed in black, pure facts and numbers. Switzerland Holdings Bank. The most I’ve ever been paid for any single job, more than the last five combined.

I tap my fingers against the paper, wanting to weigh the pros and cons of giving these people what they want, but it feels different this time. Wrong.

Granted, I’ve never been a fan of any person who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, but unless Meredith Alexis Thatchwood was some type of undercover criminal and she’d fooled me with her daily routine somehow, I didn’t see how she could be the kind worth killing.

Her taste is still on my lips, and I know I won’t be able to stop replaying the past few hours in my mind for a while. There’s something there between us, something I’ve never felt before, and a part of me wants a little more. I also know, without a doubt, that for the first time since we started this hell-ish, underground service, that I’ll struggle with a job. Especially if she’s involved.