“Tell me the truth of how you and Waylon met.”
She keeps her eyes closed, which makes it hard for me to read her expression or emotion. When she does finally speak, the tone of her voice is my only clue as to whether or not she’s telling the truth. Doing this from a distance is going to be difficult.
“A blind date,” she finally says.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read her.
Her eyes softly open. “We are both lawyers. We run in the same circles. We have mutual friends. Waylon was looking to settle down, for someone serious to help him build a long-lasting political career where he could make a difference. I was looking for a partner with power to keep me safe from men like you.”
I laugh at her comment about Waylon being able to protect her. I don’t even think Liesel believes that. Even if Waylon could keep her safe, she wouldn’t want that. She wants to control her own safety.
“You really think Waylon can protect you?”
“He has power—that’s as much protection as I can expect from a man.”
At least that’s the truth.
“What did you do on your first date?”
Liesel adjusts herself in the tub, and I get a glimmer of cleavage as she lifts slightly out of the water. My cock throbs at the sight.
“The usual drinks at a bar and then dinner at a nice Italian restaurant.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
She laughs as she sinks back into the water. “He ordered my drink and meal for me. What do you think?”
“I think you castrated him right then and there.” I smile just imagining what Liesel would do if a man tried to control her like that. But then how did she end up married to the ass?
“I ordered the most expensive champagne on the menu, and then I threw it at him.”
“Not scotch?”
She scoffs. “Would I ever waste scotch?”
My smile grows to my eyes. I haven’t smiled this big in a long time. It almost feels like we are kids teasing each other again—almost.
“No, I don’t imagine you ever would.”
Liesel smiles so openly I can see every one of her white teeth. It makes me almost not want to ask her my next question, but I need to know.
“What happened next? How did you end up on a second date if the first date ended in such a disaster?”
Her smile immediately drops from her face, almost as if it was never there in the first place. She takes her time before she speaks, the movie of those events flashing before her eyes.
She’s trying to decide if she tells me the truth or if she tells me a lie.
“You lose two weeks from your life if you lie,” I warn.
“I was at a bar. A man sat down next to me and started up a conversation with me,” her voice is soft, and her bottom lip trembles as she speaks.
I hate this man, whoever he is instantly.
“The man seemed nice enough. He was a typical suit—nicely groomed, a banker with warm eyes. He was charming, and I was lonely and frustrated with my lack of a sex life, so we got a hotel room.”
Jesus, so many awful things happen to this woman. It’s like she’s a magnet for evil men.
“In the elevator on the way up, I started to get some bad vibes from him. I made a phone call and said I had to go…”