Seducing the Enemy (Forbidden Confessions 4)

I don’t have that luxury. While I can criticize my brother for this financial mess, I was away at school when he needed me. Some of the blame rests on my shoulders.

For the next seven days, I have to let Jett Dean use me in whatever way he wants and hope he doesn’t destroy me.

Bitterly, I laugh. Every time he touches my life, it explodes into a fiery, horrific inferno, then leaves me standing in a heap of ash.

It took me years to pick myself up after he left the first time. How much harder will it be this time after I share his bed? After I take him into my body?

And what about the secret I’m keeping from him?

A glance at the clock on my mantel tells me it’s eight fifty-eight. A pair of headlights slow, turn into my driveway, and stop. The driver doesn’t honk. I don’t walk out right away. I have two minutes to decide what to do. On the table in front of me is my phone. Beside it sits the burner device.

Which am I going to pick up?

But I already know the answer.

With a trembling hand, I grab my phone and hit the button to reach the person I call most.

“Whit,” my brother answers. “What’s going on?”

I look at the clock. Eight fifty-nine. I have less than sixty seconds to give Vance an excuse. It’s too late to explain the truth.

“I’ll be gone for the next week. I’ll call you when I get home next Saturday night.”

“Where are you going?” He sounds confused.

“I can’t say.”

“Who are you going with?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Now he sounds alarmed. “I’m coming over there.”

“Don’t. I won’t be here. Just…trust me.”

“I do, but this isn’t like you.”

“I’m doing what’s best for both of us. Please try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Please. Don’t do anything. Don’t sign anything. Don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to hound me.”

Yes, I do, and we both know it.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally. “I’ll talk to you in a week.”

“Can’t you call me while you’re away?” Now he sounds downright worried.

“No.”

Even if I was allowed to bring my phone, I’m sure Jett will keep me too busy under his thumb—and in his bed—to even try.

Outside, the headlights in my driveway flash off and on again. That’s my cue.

“I have to go.”

“Are you going to be all right? You’re not doing anything dangerous, are you?”

I don’t lie to him, at least not any more than I already am. “I’ll talk to you next week. I love you.” That’s something I never say because sentiment annoys him, but I need to get the words out…just in case. “Bye.”

Then I hang up. I don’t reach out to my fiancé. He won’t miss me; he doesn’t care. He’s probably spending his weekend with strippers and drugs. We both know I’m aware of his coping mechanisms. I’ll deal with that mess when I get back.

Resolved, I power down my phone, leaving it on the table. Vance will come over while I’m gone. He’ll try to figure out where I went. He’ll see my phone right away and realize that attempting to contact me is pointless.

I grab the burner phone Jett foisted on me and rise on shaking legs. Outside, I lock my front door, tuck my house key into the flowerpot on my porch, and make my way to the sleek black Mercedes sedan. It reminds me vaguely of a car my grandmother drove as a kid. But the warm fuzzy ends there.

As I approach, a tall stranger unfolds from the driver’s seat and makes his way to me wordlessly, holding the back door open. I nod as I climb into the car. There’s a partition between the driver and me. I hear him slide into the idling vehicle, but I can’t see where he’s taking me. I have no idea what’s going on.

I must be crazy.

After a few turns, I lose track of where we’re going. North, I think. We’re on the highway now. The car is no longer starting and stopping with the traffic. So now this stranger behind the wheel is simply whisking me with no impediments toward my doom.

I swallow and peer out the window, into the night. Nothing. I see nothing but fields. Nothing is familiar. Nothing to use as a landmark to tell people where to find me if I’m in danger. I don’t think Jett would hurt me.

But I’ve been wrong about him before.

I turn the phone he gave me over in my hands. It’s not too late. I could still call him and tell him I’ve changed my mind.

But why? Vance needs his cash, and we have no new prospects.

That’s not the only reason, the seditious part of my brain whispers.

If I’m being completely honest, I’ve waited eight horrible years to set eyes—and anything else I could—on Jett Dean. If this is the only way I can have him, I’m willing to take my chances.