Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
My mom shook her head quickly. “No, we have to pull the rope earlier.”
Addison nodded. “Once he catches you, his fiancée, in the act with another man, we need this to wrap up immediately. He can’t have time to make good choices. Good choices for him are—”
“Bad things for us,” I finished what Hailey’s mom always said.
“Exactly.”
Everett expelled a rough, troubled breath. “So there’s supposed to be no room for doubt, and the mark has to believe his fiancée is cheating on him instantly. And he won’t believe that if he catches them just kissing in a hotel room because . . .” He waved his hand to my mom to finish.
She stared off in thought, twiddling her diamond stud earring. “Because he might convince himself it’s nothing.” Concern softened her voice. “He could delude himself into believing what he wants to see. That his fiancée is still pure.”
Addison drummed her lips. “The other principal is supposed to come in and verify what the mark sees.”
Oliver was the other principal. He’d grown a two-month friendship with Patrick, and recently, he warned him against marrying me.
Patrick wanted to live with his head in the sand and pretend like I was his perfect picture of purity. And then Oliver had suckered him in by saying, “If this blows up in the future, it could destroy your father’s political career. Better to nip it now, man, and not make the biggest mistake of your life by marrying a cheating whore.”
Patrick had listened.
“Look,” Oliver had said, “maybe I’m wrong, and if I am, I’ll be happy to be and see you marry the girl of your dreams. But I’ll make you a bet. If you’re right and she’s not cheating, I’ll give you the money for the Lambo we both love.” For weeks, they’d bonded over being car aficionados and Formula 1 hobbyists, and they had their eyes on a limited-edition Lamborghini.
Worth half a million dollars.
“If I’m right,” Oliver had told him, “you give me the money for it.”
It wasn’t chump change to Patrick, but his family could definitely afford a high-risk bet if he lost. His mom came from football royalty, and not because there was a quarterback in his family. His grandparents owned an entire NFL team.
Patrick had agreed to the bet, thinking I was still perfectly his, but he’d wanted clear, definitive proof of me cheating. Not a text message string that could be fabricated or a Photoshopped picture. He needed to know one hundred percent that I was every whorish thing Oliver painted me as.
Everett grimaced. “This’ll be an uphill climb for Oliver if he has to convince the mark. He’ll think he’s just trying to get the damn car. The indisputable proof has to come from them.” He pointed toward Rocky and me.
How much Patrick needed to actually see—that was the argument.
Everett spoke to Addison. “This shouldn’t be hard for them, hun. They’ve kissed plenty of times. None of us would be surprised if they’ve already had sex—”
“We haven’t,” Rocky growled through his teeth. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
Everett made a concerted effort not to glare back at his son.
“There are feelings there, Bethy,” Addison reasoned with my mom.
I interjected. “I wouldn’t go that far.” I whirled to my mom. “Mom.”
“You have kissed him during jobs, bug,” my mom said. “Would it be that bad to go just a little further?”
I froze. Would it be? Was I just making this unreasonably harder on everyone?
Rocky was grinding his jaw, a rough, angered hand scraping through his hair. Until he pushed away from the mantel. “What do you want us to do? Fuck each other on the job?”
No one said anything.
Addison and my mom exchanged a glance that I couldn’t decipher. They’d shared many of those over the years. Glimpses reserved for very best friends. For those who know the depth of you from the inside out.
“We want no room for doubt, Brayden. That’s it,” Addison told her son.
“It’s half a million dollars,” Everett said slowly, like the money would matter. “Your mother and I would do more for less. Hell, we’ve all done more for less.”
I felt like a toddler throwing a stupid tantrum. I knew my mom had been in her fair share of uncomfortable positions, and they weren’t asking me to be with a stranger. This was Rocky.
“I’ll do it,” I suddenly said. My stomach clenched, knowing I was agreeing to leapfrog over a line that Rocky and I never crossed.
He stared straight at me, breathing harder and harder.
“Brayden, please,” Addison whispered.
And finally, he said, “Okay.”
At the brownstone, I wasn’t as nervous. Back there, it felt like a blueprint. Less real and more imagined.
Here, seeing Rocky come toward the rose-petal-strewn bed where I stand—this is very real.
I almost wish he didn’t dump expensive champagne down the drain and on the bar counter. Could’ve used a tiny buzz to quiet the nerves, but we’re pretty good about keeping clear heads during jobs.