Page 55 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

He glared like he wanted to scratch me, and I just blew him a kiss. He recoiled, visibly shuddering. I cackled at his patheticness. Everything was going to hell—so I’d take the place with me.

The manager’s office was stifling, the air stale with cigar smoke and privilege. Washington Astor sat behind the oversized desk like a villain in a gothic novel, his gold cufflinks glinting in the low light, a scotch in hand, even though it was barely noon.

“Sit,” he growled, gesturing like I was a dog.

Timothy tried to shove me into the chair. I didn’t budge. Didn’t sit. Didn’t look away. “Fuck you old man.”

“You’re a leech,” he sneered. “Fucking my son like a parasite.”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached, but I didn’t speak. Instead, I smiled.

He wanted my fury. Wanted me to scream, and cry, and beg. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. My hands curled into fists at my side before I slipped them into my pockets to hide how badly they were shaking.

“You think you’re special? You’re nothing. A pretty body. A novelty. And when he tires of you—which he will —you’ll go crawling back to the gutter you came from,” he spat.

I breathed in through my nose, slow and controlled. My phone was already recording in my pocket. I didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. I was the infuriating picture of calm—at least on the surface.

He was giving me rope, but I’d let him hang himself. Every slur. Every threat. Every ounce of his hatred. I’d make sure it was used against him when his day in court finally came.

“You don’t belong in our world,” he snarled. “And you never will. I’m offering you a chance to walk away. Quietly. Without ruining what little dignity you have left.”

He slid a check across the desk. Ten grand—he really was broke. Pathetic .

I laughed. Loud and cold. “Is that all your son is worth to you? Ten grand? That’s pocket change.

You might be old money and bleed blue, but I was raised in the hills of LA by Hollywood royalty.

Our coffers are lined with more money than you could ever dream of asshole.

You can’t pay me off. You couldn’t afford to…

” I let my words hang between us, turning the air in the room glacial.

His eyes narrowed, his face turning a mottled purple, like a balloon about to burst. “You arrogant little fuck?—”

“I did my homework,” I cut in and smirked for good measure. “And you’re broke. You’ve been bleeding money for years. You’ve been living off the illusion of power, but we both know illusions shatter.”

Timothy’s eyes widened, fear bleeding into his smug expression. His head snapped toward me. “Wait—what?”

Ignoring him, I kept going. “You’ve been laundering funds through Brookhaven for how long? Your board’s going to love this.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped the screen. “Say hi to the mic.”

Astor lunged for me, spittle flying from his mouth. “You little faggot , you think this will?—”

Timothy caught him mid-lunge, holding him back with a gasp of horror. “Sir—Jesus Christ?—”

“You’re done,” I said softly. “The press will crucify you.”

“You don’t have anything on me,” he snarled. But I could see the fear bleeding through his ice-blue eyes.

“Even if Theo left me, even if we never spoke again, he’d still never crawl back to you. You’re nothing. Just a sad old man clinging to illusions.”

“And just so we’re clear,” I added, flipping him the bird, “I quit.”

I turned. Walked out and didn’t look back as I slammed the door behind me.

I found Thalia outside, collapsed against the hood of my car. She was hyperventilating, shoulders shaking, a cigarette trembling between her fingers.

“That was the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen,” she muttered. “Also… maybe the bravest.”

“I can’t lose you,” I said, throat raw. “You were all I had before Theo.”

Her mouth parted. A tear slipped free. “No one’s ever said that to me.”

“I mean it.”

She looked away, blinking fast. I gave her the dignity of silence. “You going home?”

I nodded. She exhaled, smoke curling around her like a ghost. “Can you give me a lift?”

“Of course babe. Just know I won’t Bonnie and Clyde it. We’re living to fight another day.”

“Thank you sinful.”

“For what?” I questioned.

“For being here for me, no questions asked.”

“We’re besties for the resties, T.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into me as she sobbed softly, guiding her into the passenger seat of my car.

I hit the gas so hard the tires screamed. The neatly pressed gravel ricocheted off cars and sprayed all over the neatly trimmed flawless lawns.

The drive back to the apartment passed quickly. Thalia chain-smoked like the world was ending, passing me one every so often. Her perfect make-up was streaked down her cheeks. She was shaken and raw, but still gorgeous.

“What are you staring at?” she muttered when she caught me looking at her with a smile on my face, making me laugh. “Fucking tell me now, Sin, or I’ll stub the next one out on your arm.”

“Try me,” I goaded. She cuffed me around the back of the head when I stayed silent. “Jesus fucking Christ. Alright. Alright. I’ll tell you. But don’t go getting all puppy dog eyes on me.”

She snorted. “Well… spit it out then.”

I Huffed a laugh under my breath as I stopped at the red light. “I was just thinking… even with your mascara in meltdown and your lipstick on your chin, you’re still stupidly beautiful.”

“Fuck you,” she growled, flipping the visor. “Jesus, I look like a clown who survived a war.”

“Nah, you’re always beautiful.”

“You’re such a dick.” She tipped her head back and the first real smile I’d seen all day flickered at the corners of her lips.

“Maybe. But I made you smile. So I win.”

“Who says that?”

“Homer Simpson.”

“What?”

“Every time Marge smiles after an argument, Homer knows he’s off the hook.”

She groaned, but she was laughing. “You sneaky little shit.”

When we got back, I hauled her upstairs with me and kicked Theo’s door open.

He looked up from a stack of books as I headed into the kitchen for a bottle of tequila. “Everything okay?”

“Better now,” I said and tossed him my phone. “Play it.”

He listened to the recording. His face went hard. Jaw tight. “New management’s coming in,” he said quietly, looking at Thalia. “I’ll put in a word for you. You shouldn’t have been fired.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “But I think I will be.”

Theo nodded. “Then we’ll help make sure of it.”

I dropped onto the couch between them and handed Thalia the bottle. She took a few healthy swigs before passing it to me. “Okay, now that we’re all alive and not in jail, I vote we order disgusting amounts of takeout and watch reality TV until our eyes bleed.”

Thalia raised an eyebrow, snatching the bottle back off me before I could pass it to Theo. “You are not picking.”

I grinned. “Too late. Love Island UK it is.” Theo groaned and Thalia laughed as I flicked through the channels. “Someone should text, Claire?—”

“I heard my name.” She sauntered in through the door, grabbed the rapidly disappearing bottle of tequila from Thalia and settled on the floor between her feet. One hand wrapped around her leg, stroking her calf comfortingly.

“So… what’s your poison T?” I asked, checking the listings on Uber eats.