Page 70 of A Secret and a Lie

I snort. “You have no idea.” There’s a brief pause, or maybe it’s just the connection cutting out again, but after a moment, I ask, “So did you figure out if you could trust that person you were unsure about?”

She doesn’t answer me straight away, and I wish I could see her face. I’d kill to take in the shape of her lips and the look in her eye. I’ve never given much thought to what mytypewould be, but whatever it is, it’s her.

“Not yet,” she says finally.

Something about the hesitancy in her voice has me inquiring, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I don’t like that I’m about seven thousand miles away from her. I can’t physically do anything to protect her, but I could call my grandfather. He’d help if I asked him.

“Yeah, I’m safe. I’m just second-guessing myself.”

The connection shorts out and my jaw tics. I’d give anything to hear what she sounds like in real life, sitting across from me, or better still, her body curled against mine. The shitty satellite phone always distorts sounds, but its primary purpose is to connect us to command, not to call the women we meet online.

“For what it’s worth,” I tell her. “You can trust me. I promise to be worthy of that.”

Just then laughter bursts from the tent next door, followed by booming music that makes me grit my teeth.

The line goes fuzzy for a second. “I don’t feel like I deserve that.” I don’t think she meant to say those words aloud because she sighs absently.

“You do, doll.”

“You don’t even know my name, why would you want to give me your trust?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we were past this phase.”

She exhales, and the line cuts out briefly, making me want to hurl the damn phone across the room. “—right. I’m being ridiculous.”

Her tone has softened, lightening, but I still state, maybe a bit too honestly, “I don’t need to know your name to be yours. But I’ll be home in a month. What do you think about meeting up and we can exchange names then?”

“Are you serious? A month? Yes, I’d love that,” she squeals, her tone brighter. I smile, relieved she sounds as excited about this as I am.

“I’ll message you with a meeting spot and time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk on the phone again before I see you, though.”

“That’s alright, I’m looking forward to meeting you, which is silly since I already feel like I know you.”

I grin, loving that.

When we hang up, I stare at the phone, my heart in my throat. I like her, and if by some miracle, I make it out of this place alive, there’s no way I’m not going to see her the very minute I get back to the States.

She didn’t give me much information in terms of who she’s distrusting or why, but I can help her when I get back. We’ll be able to connect like a real couple and start a life together. She’s the one for me and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be everything she needs.

When Drake taps me on the shoulder that I jolt out of my thoughts. “You good, man? You missed dinner.”

I blink at my friend. “Uh, yeah.” I run a hand down my face, scrambling to my feet. “I’m done. I’m sure you’re trying to call your mom.”

His eyebrows crinkle as he studies me before glancing at his watch. “Nah, it’s Saturday. She’s got her book club at the coffee shop this morning, and I don’t want her to have to choose between me and her friends.”

I nod, just about to log off and follow Drake out to the mess area to try to clear my head.

Genevieve

Blood trickles from my nose, the taste of metallic and iron coating my tongue, my black hair matted to my face as I slump onto the floor of Leo’s office.So much for him avoiding my face.

“Worthless fucking whore,” he grumbles before spitting a glob of saliva on my face. It lands on my chin and dribbles onto my collarbone. I’m going to need at least fifty showers to feel clean after that.

“I’d have sold you to someone else if Grady wasn’t so addicted to your worn-out pussy.” With those lovely parting words, Leo stomps from the room, the door rattling against the frame.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m into a little degradation—especially the kind that Grady doles out—but this is textbook abuse, and I’m growing fed up with it.