Page 2 of A Secret and a Lie

Assuming he’s referring to the Senate Judiciary Committee thathe’s been appointed to, my ears perk up, so I offer, “I suppose I could carve out some time for you, say about six?” So much for the peaceful dinner I thought I’d get to have at home, but if I can milk him for information—literally—it’ll be worth it.

“Done. Thanks, sugar.”

I dial my assistant’s number next. I’m only four blocks from the office, but Corinne will, undoubtedly, be running late.

“I swear I’m almost there,” she rushes by way of greeting, and I laugh, easily translating her statement to meanI’m leaving the house in five minutes.

“Take your time. I was wondering if you could move things around for me. I told Henry I’d see him at six.”

I can practically imagine her features twisting in revulsion. “I don’t know why you still see him.”

“Yes, you do,” I remind her, and she scoffs through the phone as cars honk nearby. Henry isn’t much of a looker, but that doesn’t bother me. Besides, he’s nice and never balks at my outrageous price tag.

“His dick better be worth it.”

His brain might beis on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow the retort. We hang up, and I strut the remaining few blocks to the towering chrome office building that holds my empire.

Shoving through the glass doors, Marcus and Ethan are the two private security guards on duty this morning, standing sentry inside the lobby. They nod to me as I make my way to the elevator, and I smile politely in return. I bought this building eight years ago, and it remains my greatest investment.

Inside the lift, I press the button for the top floor, scrolling through my emails as the car whisks me to my office. As the doors open, I’m met with Corinne’s empty desk, and I snigger to myself. The day that girl is on time will be the day snow falls in the summer. Bypassing her desk, the marble floor gives way to plush carpet.

I sink into my desk chair, gazing out the wall of windows to my right that overlook the sunny city.

When I was young and naïve, I loved this place; drunk onthe power, the sophistication, the prestige, the ruthlessness that floated through the air of Washington, D.C. like an oppressive emotional smog.

Now, I see it for what it is: a chessboard.

Only, this beguiling game isn’t played fairly—it’s brutal and bloody. The stakes are high, the players unscrupulous.

Tired of being just one more piece in the larger game, I set out to make myself a queen. Better to be treated as a prized predator than one of the many pawns.

Now, I have this fucking city kissing my shoes, begging me from their knees to ride them, worshiping the ground beneath my feet, presenting me with their precious floggers, and passing me the keys to their chastity belts.

With a sigh, I swivel my chair toward my computer and fire it up, just as there’s a knock on my open glass door. Glancing up, I find Liam entering my office, closing us in here together.

“Hey, Allie,” he starts, a charismatic grin lighting up his face that I return. “Do you have a second?”

I pride myself on having an open-door policy with my employees. There’s nothing more important to me than their comfort and safety, and thankfully, all the people who work for me treat me like a trusted friend.

“Of course. What can I do for you this morning?”

Liam’s long legs consume the short distance, taking one of the plush gray seats opposite my desk. “Last night, my client asked me if we could act out a fantasy of his.”

Settling back in my seat, I ask, “What’s the fantasy?”

He blushes a little, his flawless, tanned skin tinging a rosy shade of pink. “He asked if we could turn the playroom into a padded cell and act out an ‘asylum’ fantasy. His words, not mine. He wants to be here all weekend.”

I hum, thinking it through from every angle. “Who’s the client?”

“Max Tuften.” Tuften is a Silicon Valley tech billionaire with a questionable rap sheet—I know because I have it.

“Does he want you tobe the patient?”

Liam shakes his head, and relief trickles through my brain. I wouldn’t have signed off on that without some hefty guardrails in place, if at all.

I nod. “We can do that, ifyou’recomfortable with it. As always, you have autonomy over what you agree to.”

The corner of his lips quirks, displaying a dimple that has put him on the map. No one—not even me—is immune to the devastating charm of a dimple. “Thanks, Allie. I’m cool with it.”