Page 31 of The Devil After Dark

thirty

LIANA

I didn’t hear from Cassio for a full twenty-four hours.

Now I stood looking at the creamy white bag with golden ribbon handles and gold tissue paper spilling from the top.

There was also a little cream white envelope perched in the paper.

Was this an apology present? Was Cassio trying to win me over with gifts?

This felt too familiar and my stomach sank.

I set my things down and gave a wide berth to my kitchen table as I rounded it and went to my kitchen.

A few minutes later I was just staring at the bag again, leaning against the wall, and drinking a large glass of wine.

I was not opening it. No, I was definitely opening it.

In two strides I was at my table and plucking the card from the golden paper. I tore it open unceremoniously and looked at the neat handwriting.

Since you’re so insistent on wearing panties,

wear this tonight.

A command. How fucking fitting. Could the man not just apologize?

Everything had to be his way and I was tired of it.

I tossed the gold tissue paper onto the table and pulled out the crimson lace lingerie from inside the gift bag.

The lingerie screamed sexy and submissive.

You know, the kind that basically says I like to be tied up and beg for it.

I didn’t need more lingerie. I tossed it on top of the discarded tissue paper and gave the lace a crude gesture before retreating to my bedroom.

I was going to take a long hot bath and go to bed.

As I crawled into bed, my phone buzzed. It was Cassio, of course.

Why aren’t you wearing my present?

How did he know I wasn’t wearing the lingerie?

Oh my gods I had been so stupid. He must have put cameras in my condo.

The stalking and breaking in and the messages like he knew exactly where I was—of course he had put cameras in here.

I looked around my room. Where would be the perfect place to put a camera?

My eyes snagged on the curtain rod where it ended in the corner.

That would give him a perfect view of my entire room.

I marched over to the chair I kept across from the foot of my bed and dragged it to the corner of my room.

Standing on my tiptoes I ran my fingers around the intricate curtain rod end.

A moment later I came up triumphant—a small rectangular box with a wire and what I assumed was a small microphone on the other end.

The motherfucker had put a camera in my bedroom.

He had probably recorded us too. His own private porn.

I hopped down and went straight to my bathroom, running my fingers along every nook and potential hiding place.

I found nothing. Okay, maybe he was not sick enough to put a camera in the bathroom.

That was … promising. With the one camera in hand I stormed to my kitchen and filled a mug with hot water, then I dropped the camera into it before starting to search my kitchen.

Another camera was tucked into one of the vents. It went straight into the mug of water.

Next was my living room, where I found two cameras that, by their placement, probably gave a full view of the space.

Then I found another in my hallway that clearly had a view of my front door as well as my guest bathroom door, guest bedroom door, and my very own bedroom door.

Into the water they all went. Then I left the mug on the table next to the lingerie and stormed back to my bedroom.

My phone had three unread messages:

What are you doing, Angel?

Naughty girls get punished. Stop.

Angel.

The last message gave me a slight chill.

It was like I could hear his voice saying the pet name he’d given me in warning.

No. Fuck him. Cameras? How long had they been in here?

Probably since the shooting. And he thinks some lingerie that is for his pleasure is an apology present?

No. I couldn’t help myself as I furiously typed back and slammed my finger over the send button.

My name is Liana. Or you can call me Ms. Sutton if you prefer. Please contact my office if you would like to set up an appointment.