The Private Serials Box Set(54)

“Lena, I’m glad you got my message and decided to meet with me.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face, his eyes roaming up and down my body, taking me in. I held back a disgusted shiver; his lingering glare making me nauseous.

“What do you want, Derrek?” I asked, not trying to hide my annoyance at being beckoned by him.

“Take a seat. I think it’s time we had a real discussion.” I held his glare for a moment, not sure I wanted to follow any instruction he threw at me. I decided, however, that I wanted this ‘discussion’ over as soon as possible, so I moved to sit in the club chair opposite his desk. Once I was seated I laced my fingers together and set my hands in my lap.

“Lena,” he started, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve had a lot of fun over the last couple of weeks playing this game with you, but I think it’s time it came to an end. Although, now, I wish it weren’t the truth, I married a smart woman and I am tiring of watching you play dumb. The game was entertaining in the beginning, but it’s becoming a burden, so I suggest we end it. Now.”

I blinked at him, not letting my face give anything away.

“I’m not really sure what you’re referring to, Derrek.”

“Really? You’re still going to play dumb? I would have pegged you differently. Surely you want to tell me off, give me what-for. I know you have things you want to say to me.”

I still kept quiet.

“Fine. Have it your way, although my way would have been much more fun.” He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder sitting on his desk, flipped it around, and slid it toward me with a pen. “This is a contract explaining that you agree to a divorce, leaving me everything, and you will not contest the divorce proceedings or file any further suit to gain any monetary or physical belongings gained during our silly, pathetic excuse for a marriage.”

I took a deep breath in and held it. If I let it out, so many words and insults would come with it.

“Furthermore, it states you still agree to the hundred-thousand-dollar penalty for the adultery you committed many, many times over the course of our marriage.”

“You’re more delusional than I previously thought if you, even for one moment, think I’m going to pay you a hundred grand. You cheated, Derrek. You have a whole other family waiting in the wings. You strung me along for years.”

“Where’s your proof, darling?”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks. We’ve tried that and it was lacking, terribly.”

“You’re crazy. You’ve got just as much proof as I do. Call your lawyer. We’ll deal with this in court.” I stood up and moved to the door, my hands shaking with anger.

“Lena, you don’t want this to go to court, trust me. You might not have proof, but I do. Damn good proof, too.”

I turned back to him sharply, my hair whipping around my shoulder, and saw him slide another paper across his desk toward me. I walked to the edge of the desk and picked up the paper, flipping it over.

My eyes focused on the photograph and my heart stopped. It stopped, then it leapt back into action, thundering in my chest, aching and pounding. My hand came to my mouth as it fell open, and I collapsed back into the chair. My hand shook and the picture trembled. My lungs burned, begging me to breathe again.

I was looking at a photo of Preston and me on the first night I’d spent at his house, after the gala. It was a black and white photo, grainy but still visible, and it was outstandingly damning. I was on his bed, on my knees, my hands grasping the slats of his headboard. Preston’s hand was curled around my shoulder, his other hand rested at my waist, and his eyes were looking down, watching his cock slam into me. His mouth was open and he had what looked like wonder painted across his face as he looked at our bodies joined together. My head was tilted back, mouth gaping, and I knew the instant this picture was taken, I was crying out in complete ecstasy. Derrek had a picture of me mid-orgasm, with another man. In another circumstance, in another life, I would look at this picture and think it beautiful. But in this instant, it was ugly. It represented something ugly.

“What do you want?” I gasped, my eyes still not leaving the photo.

“I want you to leave, with nothing, and I want you to struggle for the rest of your life trying to pay me what you agreed to. I want you to think of me every day and obsess over the fact that I ruined your life.”

He’d reached a new level of crazy.

“Or what?”

“This picture goes viral and if you think this is the only one I have, you’re even more stupid than I could have ever imagined. I have hundreds of pictures of you being a filthy whore, and no judge would ever look at these pictures and believe you to be some jilted wife.”

“And if I sign your paper, if I give you what you want, then what?”

“I forget you ever existed.”

I thought about my life, thought about everything I’d been fighting for in the last weeks, and everything I’d put Preston through. Suddenly, I understood what he’d been saying all along. It wasn’t worth it. Certainly now, when not only was I on the chopping block, but Preston too, the only sane thing I could think to do was to give it all up. To surrender.

“Fine.” I said, walking back to the chair, clutching the picture. “But I want all the photos you have, and anything else incriminating.”