Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(65)

But not me.

I grabbed his crappy pen and scrawled my name.

Honestly? I couldn’t believe this had happened. I hadn’t told Dad, Steve, or even Fleur. The only person who knew about my little quest and tonight’s accommodation was Larry, and even discussing it with him had been nerve wracking.

It had taken two weeks.

Two very long weeks since Larry had given me the contact details of the person I needed to hound and then together, we didn’t stop. Morning, afternoon, evening. Email, call, text, messenger, even tweet.

Over and over, we hounded and hounded until finally, we got an email giving us access with the firm instruction never to contact them again.

Never was a long time—especially if Penn’s court date remained forever locked in the future. But I wouldn’t worry about that now.

We’d won.

We were here.

At eight p.m. on a Wednesday, signing into the jail after visiting hours.

According to the prison roster, all inmates would’ve eaten, enjoyed rec time, and now be in their respective cells ready for lights out. Bedtime was early in this place. Morning alarm was even earlier.

Every man would be most likely stretched out on his cot, reading or passing the time in his imagination.

But not Penn.

Penn would be taken somewhere different. Somewhere he’d probably argue about and wonder why the hell he’d been separated and locked up in an unfamiliar place.

“Do you have all the necessary belongings?” The guard looked at my plastic see-through Hermes that held a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and other nighttime required accessories. The security processing had already x-rayed my things and cleared me.

“Yes, I’m all ready to go.” My voice pitched slightly higher with nerves.

“You’ll collect her first thing tomorrow?” The guard looked at Larry.

Larry gave my shoulder a squeeze as if I was about to go into a cage with a lion to tame it, instead of entering a cage with Penn to seduce him. “Yes, I will. Eight a.m. On the dot.”

Knowing he knew what I’d be doing tonight made me blush, but the experience at having a night alone with Penn made me bounce on the spot.

Thanks to my online research, I’d learned that only four states allowed conjugal visits and one of those states was New York. I also learned that only medium and lesser security prisons permitted them, and were entirely dependent on prisoner behavior. The lesser infractions the inmate had, the better chance of being granted one of three conjugal options: six, twelve, or twenty-four hours.

I’d pushed for twenty-four. I’d been granted twelve.

I wouldn’t argue because technically, in some states, you had to be legally married, and I didn’t want that nuisance to stop me.

We were engaged. I had witnesses from the office stating as much. If it came down to that...I would no longer fight against it or call it fake. Technically, I wasn’t even in a relationship with Penn. We’d never discussed exclusivity or rules. But just like I could tell he loved me, our hearts had decided that whatever this was—it was too deep to be labeled and too real to require laws to keep it alive.

Taking the form back, the guard checked I’d initialed each page and signed. I supposed the waiver was so in-depth because of prior incidents. The same website said an inmate murdered his girlfriend and committed suicide during one such visit in 2010.

The screening had tightened a lot since then.

“All right then, if you’ll follow me, Ms. Charlston.” The guard buzzed open a door, waiting for me to step through.

Larry gave me a wave, a chuckle escaping. “Well, Elle. Go give our boy one of the best nights of his life.”

My cheeks burned, but I smiled. “That’s my plan. See you in the morning.” As the door closed, absorbing me into the prison to have sex with my incarcerated fake fiancé, Larry blew me a kiss.

For a moment, my heart fluttered like any exciting date.

For a second...things were normal.

And then the door clanged shut, and my twelve short hours began.





Chapter Thirty


Penn


WHEN THE BELL rang to return to lock-up, a guard came for me.

All I earned was a barked command to grab my toothbrush and prison-issued pajamas and follow him.

To be honest, it freaked me the fuck out.

Why was I being picked on? Why had no one else been told to grab their shit and march to unknown territory?

He didn’t give me any other instruction, and I didn’t make small talk as I followed him out of general and through security. I was patted down as if I had an arsenal made from soap bars and candy wrappers stuffed in my pants, then directed down a series of hallways to a more modern, renovated side of the prison.

“In here.” The guard pointed at an open door. Inside was a king-sized bed with black linen, tables, lamps, a dark red rug, two towels rolled on a chair, and a plastic basket with lube and condoms. A door ajar hinted at a private bathroom complete with shower.

What the fuck is this place?

Was I about to get ass raped by some dude I’d somehow pissed off? Had the warden suddenly taken a liking to me?

Shit.

When I didn’t move, the guard pointed with a scowl. “Get in.”

“I, eh—what’s going on?”

“You’ll see if you get in.” He pointed again. “Now, Everett.”