Tempted - Page 92
I walk into her apartment, and I hear the door shut behind me.
My shoes echo on the wood floors until I’m standing in a tiny living room.
She looks around the space. It’s not clean. It’s actually a fucking mess.
“Sorry about—” She gestures to the pile of clothes on the couch. “If I knew you were coming . . .” She trails off.
“I’m not here to talk about clothes.”
She places her hand on her hip, her posture going rigid at the sound of my voice.
“Why are you here, Drew?” she asks, taking a step back.
“Why don’t you tell me why you think I’m here?”
Her eyes are wide. She’s shocked, but when her mouth trembles, I know I was right.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters.
“Now that’s funny. Because I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Her face grows pale, and I use that moment to whip out my phone from my back pocket.
Now it’s my turn to approach her. She at least has the decency to appear scared. I would never hurt a girl, but ruin her . . . ?
That I can certainly do.
“I told you, you were done. To stay out of my life.”
“Drew—”
I lift my hand to silence her. “Do not speak.” I start to scroll through my phone, and then I hand it to her. “Watch this video, and then and only then, think long and hard on how you are going to respond.”
Reluctantly, she takes my phone in her hand. When she sees the video I have filmed, her hand begins to shake. She is quick to rein in her reaction, though.
“I don’t know what you think this is. Your drug addict girlfriend wanted to get drunk . . . I did exactly what she asked for.”
I nod my head and take my phone from her hand. “So that’s how you want to play it? Okay.” I move to turn.
“Where are you going?”
“To the police.”
“What?”
“Well, according to this video, a crime took place at my club, and since you have nothing to say . . .” I turn and walk toward the door.
“Wait.”
I don’t turn around. She still is speaking to my back.
“It—I—She deserved it!” she shouts, and that makes me finally look at her.
I lift the phone toward her. The image on the screen zoomed in. It’s clear as day the exact moment it happens.
The moment in which Monica drugged her.
I smile at her. A sardonic smile. She blanches, her mouth opening and shutting to figure out what to say. She’s trying to come up with a plausible excuse for what is depicted on the video as clear as day.
On the video, she slips drugs into both the drinks. It’s not clear what she puts inside it, but I know its cocaine and pain killers from the tox report.
Now to figure out what to do about her.
Was she trying to kill Bailey and Reese?
“You slipped drugs in their drinks . . .” At my words, she does something I don’t expect. She stands up straighter, taller, and she places her hands on her hips.
“I did.” Her answer shocks me, and her lack of remorse even more.
“Very well, I’ll be handing over the tapes to the authorities.”
“Don’t you want to know why?” She smirks.
“I can’t give a flying fuck why.”
“She took you from me.” She looks delusional. How had I not seen how crazy she was. “Then, like fate, you gave me the perfect out. You said you would test every employee. I knew this was my shot to get rid of her for good. It was like all the stars aligned in the sky. I was finally going to be able to get rid of her. You were the prize. That night, I knew it was a losing battle, so I upped my game.” She smirks.
“You could have killed them.”
“Hardly. Death was never the endgame. My goal was to ruin her. For you to see her for what she was. Then, once you fired her, I could have you all to myself again.”
“Well, it didn’t work.”
“Didn’t it?” She lifts her brow. “You shipped her off. She’s gone.”
“But what you don’t know about Bailey is that she is the strongest person I know. Much stronger than you or even me. She will come out of this on top, and guess what? I’ll be there waiting for her. Because I love her.”
And with that, phone in hand, I walk out of her apartment.
54
Drew
I’m a man possessed.
I don’t even stop to talk to the police or anything, instead I send the incriminating evidence to my attorney and tell him to handle it. This isn’t about me anymore. It’s time I do what I should have done a week ago and talk to her.
It doesn’t take me long to get on my family’s plane and head to the treatment center. When I arrive, I don’t even bother to check if I can see her. She needs to know the truth, and I need to grovel.
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