Page 22 of Dirty Little Secrets

M y phone buzzes, and a notification pops up from an unknown number.

Unknown: Meet me.

I don’t have to ask to know who it is. It’s Brent, wanting an update. This will be the third time I’ve met up with him since I moved here about a year ago, and every time, I dread it. He wants information, but he also wants to make sure my body belongs to him in all the ways it doesn’t.

I shudder from the thought of his hands touching me. The smell of cigars and whiskey I’ve managed to replace with Xaiden’s scent.

But again, I remind myself that sex with Xaiden doesn’t mean anything. Red is the part of me no one can know about. Nori is the woman no one truly sees.

I run the program again, letting it trace, collect information, but after three minutes, I hit another wall.

“Damn it. He’s good,” I mutter.

Is there anything this man isn’t good at?

I’ve tried to see if they have a separate room where he codes, but all there is, is the run-of-the-mill server for the building’s computers and internet.

No one would be stupid enough to code there or leave it vulnerable without security.

However he’s doing it, he’s good. Too good.

But I can’t give up. My freedom depends on it.

Brent asked me for this last thing, and my debt with the club is paid.

Get the information on the security program Drazen runs for his clients—with all the manifests—and I’m free.

Is there a chance he’s lying? Maybe. But it was the only way he would let me leave Seattle, and Landon was my ticket.

I hoped he could be someone I could learn to like, but his claws showed by the third month of living with him.

There was no way I could leave—not after I got the job he promised me. Brent was happy everything was going as planned, and for the time being, I was happy I wasn’t in Seattle. Getting to climb outside your cage is better than being locked inside it.

I grab my phone and type out a reply before he gets pissed off. With Brent, anything sets him off.

Nori: I’ll be there in fifteen.

I grab my stuff, walk around my desk, and pause in front of Xaiden’s door, but it’s quiet.

I didn’t see him come back after I had lunch in the breakroom, and I didn’t see him leave for the day.

I assumed he didn’t come back. There’s nothing on his schedule on a Friday night.

The app’s been quiet all week. Maybe X thinks I needed a break because he took me harder than the first time.

Maybe he got bored.

When the Uber driver drops me off at the meet-up spot, Brent is waiting against the building with his foot bent on the brick wall. The sun has set, and the glow from the streetlights reflects in the puddles formed in the potholes of the street.

“You lookin’ mighty fine in that skirt, Norianna.”

I hate when he calls me by my full name. He does it to get under my skin.

“It’s for work.”

He chuckles low and pushes off the wall.

His boots thud on the pavement as he gets closer.

I can smell the leather from his jacket and the sweet scent of whiskey from the pores of his skin.

Ever since I was sixteen, he’s worn his favorite drink like cologne, and I hate it.

There is nothing about Brent I like. Some women at the club think I’m crazy.

It’s not that he’s bad looking. Brent has the hot biker thing going for him.

Tattoos, leather, and a pretty face. But no soul, just Satan’s lapdog on a crotch rocket.

I look around him, knowing we are alone in the dark alley. “Where’s your bike?”

He smiles. “Around.”

I sigh. “Evasive as always.”

“Never tell anyone how you arrived or when you’re leaving.”

“It’s how they know where you are.”

“That’s right.”

I shiver when the wind picks up, biting at my skin.

“Cold?”

“No,” I lie. I’m freezing, but he’s the last person I want to warm me up. I was so tired this morning I forgot the temperature would drop after the rain and didn’t bring a coat.

“Give me what you’ve found so far and I’ll warm you up.”

I toss the drive at him without a second thought. He catches it, looking at it under the light like it’s a precious diamond.

“It’s what I’ve gotten so far. I’ll let you know when I have more.”

I plan no such thing, but I would never tell him that. He’ll contact me like he always does. The longer I drag this out, the faster I can leave this life behind.

He pockets the drive and calls me over with his finger. “Come here,” he demands.

I walk begrudgingly over to him, his scent causing bile to rise in the back of my throat.

“I gotta go, Brent.”

He pushes me against the brick wall, caging me in with his hands flat against it. I look up to see the lust in his blue eyes.

“You think I don’t know you and your fake boyfriend split up?” He rubs his nose over my cheek like a dog, making the nausea brew even thicker. “I have eyes on you, Norianna.”

A ball of dread pools in my stomach reminding me that I’m not free.

“I know.”

There are times I forget Brent has eyes everywhere. There were so many times I tried to leave Seattle, but he’s always two steps ahead. He would find ways to instill fear.

“Good.”

When I think he’s going to pull away, his hand shoves my skirt up, forcefully pulling a gasp from my throat.

“Brent…”

“It’s been too long since I’ve tasted you, Norianna. I miss the way you gag on my cock.”

Yeah, right. Brent only misses getting his dick wet in what he considers his.

Monogamy doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.

Like father, like son. His father is a piece of shit just like him.

If it weren’t for me giving Brent my virginity on my eighteenth birthday, his father would’ve taken it.

It’s because of Brent I’m not his father’s whore.

Brent doesn’t like anyone touching his things.

And I’m one of those things. A toy he only lends out if he’s in the same room.

I’m just lucky Brent isn’t the type to be in the same room as his father when he fucks.

Everyone else is fair game. Women. Men. Anyone Brent wants to watch me with.

He gets off on it. It turns him on when he allows it.

There is no room to say no. Because no one says no to Brent.

He’ll find a fucked-up way to make me pay if I do.

I wince from the sting. My pussy is still tender from the other night.

His eyes narrow warily. “Did I hurt you?” I shake my head quickly. He’ll do it harder if I tell him it did.

He pulls my panties to the side for better access. I look to my left to see if anyone can see

us from the sidewalk, but he pushes my face roughly so I have no choice but to look into his dark blue eyes.

“Look at me.”

He slides his thick fingers inside, and I imagine it’s Xaiden.

“You know how much I love it when I break you. I should slit that fucker’s throat for touching what’s mine, but I’ve learned to be patient. Maybe when it’s all over, I’ll let him watch what a whore you really are before he chokes on his blood.”

He squeezes my throat, holding me so I can’t look away. He wants me to know that it’s him that makes me come. That it’s him I get on my knees for on the filthy street as I suck him off.

My mind drifts. Years of abuse trains the mind to go to places you’d rather be.

A place I always go when Brent touches me.

This time, the man I fantasize about has a face.

A scent to his skin. A rasp to his voice.

Tattoos marking him in ways that tell me he exists.

It’s funny how the mind grasps parts that it needs to store away when you need it most. A picture book of memories to maintain your sanity. A way to escape reality.

When it’s all over, Brent pulls me up and grips my face, taking his cum from my mouth. I try to force back the bile in my throat when he spits right in my face and smears it on my cheeks. It smells like sweat and something sour. Like a corpse left too long in the sun.

“So pretty bathed in my cum.” He smiles sardonically. “Like a good little whore.”

I hate him. When I first met him, I thought there was no way a man that looked like him could be so cruel and sadistic but he proved me wrong.

Demons can sometimes be the most beautiful of beings.

They have a way of making you thank them for going easy.

Like tonight. This is child’s play compared to the shit he’s into.

The things he would do to me if this was any other time.

I’ve been spared because I didn’t come empty-handed. Like a reward for a good job done.

It's sick but I don’t have a choice. It’s this or death. I want a chance to live a life without my past in it. If I don’t. At least I tried.

He tucks himself away. “Now run along and be a good little whore and get me what I need. I don’t care what you have to do to get it.”

He clenches his teeth when I wipe my face on my sleeve, and I wish I could punch his pretty boy face and fuck it up. I plant a rehearsed smile.

“Anything for you, Brent.”

“That’s my girl.”

I’m not your fucking girl. I want to scream. I never was, never will be.