Legacy of Lies (Empire of Lies 3)

Suddenly, my fear shifts to anger. Sexiest man alive or not, soon to be ex-husband or not, this man is in as much danger as I am right now, and it’s mostly his fucking fault.

“I need to leave this resort,” I say, shattering the silence. “As soon as possible…”

“I believe those were my exact instructions three weeks ago.” He clenches his jaw and parts his lips as he slowly looks me up and down. “Please tell me the part when I told you to check into this goddamn resort and not the one across the river.”

“It was in the part when you left me here alone to fend for myself.”

“Right after I saved your life?” A large vein swells in his neck. “Right after that shit?”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back. Two steps from him, two more from me. We go back and forth until my back is pressed against the wall, until he’s the only one with a move left.

When he closes the gap between us, he stares directly into my eyes—looking torn between yelling at me and fucking me on the spot.

“Since I remember how much you like playing the question game,” he says, “I have more than a few that you’re going to answer.”

“I’m not going to do anything except leave.” I try to step around him, but he grips my waist—hard, and holds me in place against the wall.

“Like I was saying,” he says, pinning me to the spot with his hips. “Number one. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

“Because I didn’t trust you.” My chest heaves up and down. “And because I didn’t have to.”

“Come again?”

“I. Didn’t. Trust. You.” I enunciate every word, and feel tears pricking my eyes. “You abandoned me after tearing my entire world apart, not giving me a chance to process it.”

“What fucking more did I need to give you, Meredith?” He hisses. “I showed you the goddamn video, told you exactly why I did what I did, and you still think this is some type of twisted game? I tell you that the person you’re closest to takes out a hit on you, one that I don’t go through with, and that’s not enough?”

“It’ll never be enough.” Tears fall down my face. “And I guarantee that I will hate you for the rest of my life for doing this to me.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t have saved you.” He presses his forehead against mine, his gaze heated. “Maybe I should’ve never gotten involved, fucked you, or wasted my time marrying you.”

“On some nights, I honestly wish you hadn’t.” I glare at him. “The life I’m currently living isn’t much of a ‘life’ at all.”

He says nothing. He just stares at me, his gaze colder than it’s ever been.

I stare right back, not backing down—not showing any sign of vulnerability.

He releases his left hand from around my waist and lifts it to my head. Then he slowly runs his fingers through my hair.

“You dyed your hair another color like I suggested, for your new life,” he says. “Why couldn’t you follow the other instructions?”

“Because those instructions came minutes after you said you would be finalizing our divorce.”

Silence.

“Is that why you came looking for me?” I say, wondering how the hell he found me. “To throw more salt in the wound and tell me that we’re legally over? If so, you could’ve saved the gas; no divorce is needed if there’s a death.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond to that.

Knocks that are ten times louder than his suddenly sound at the door.

“Housekeeping!” A deep male voice says. “Is now a good time to clean?”

Michael glances at his watch. Then he shoots me a concerned look. “Who the hell have you been talking to at this resort?”

“No one,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, not by choice.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

The knocks come again and again. This time, there are other deep voices, and I know they belong to the three men who were standing outside my old room hours ago.

Michael doesn’t ask me anything else. He covers my mouth with his hand and pulls me into the suite’s bathroom. Then he pulls me into a utility closet. He slides a panel behind us, shielding us from view, should someone open the blinded door.

“Don’t say a word,” he warns, and within seconds, the door to my room is kicked open.

Footsteps hit the bathroom floor and someone opens the door to the utility closet and quickly slams it shut. They pull out all the vanity drawers, rummage through the private closet, and knock their guns against the tinted shower glass doors until they shatter.

“I thought the guy at the front desk said she moved to this room,” one guy says. “Did he give us the right number?”

“2206,” another guy says. “This is it.”