Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Yes.” The word was no more than a whisper.
“How are we doing this? Are you leaving in cuffs or out of them?”
“I’ll go quietly.” There was no use me fighting. He’d caught me red-handed, and hey—I’d made a rookie mistake. I’d outed myself first.
I was an idiot.
Plain and simple.
“Take my arm,” he instructed.
I did as I was told. All I could hope was that I could get a phone call and ask Felicity’s mom to keep Lola for a little longer.
He’d already said I was under arrest, and that meant I was spending my night somewhere other than my own house, and it wasn’t even as though I had spare money to pay any kind of bail.
Panic flowered in my chest. I had no idea how I managed to walk calmly beside Detective Adrian Potter as he lead me out of the casino and the hotel, but I did. Nobody even gave me a second look.
Would they have if they knew what was happening? If they knew that panic from seconds ago was now a borderline anxiety attack?
My chest burned. Nausea rolled through my stomach, and my hands trembled with the fight to keep it all inside. Even my eyes stung, and it took all I had to blink back the tears that threatened.
I’d gotten away with it for so long, I should have known that one day I’d get caught.
Detective Potter handed his ticket to the valet without a word. I looked down at my feet and tried to focus on my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
It was barely possible, but by the time a sleek, black car rolled up in front of us, I almost had my breathing back under my control.
“Your keys, sir.”
“Thank you.” Detective Potter took the keys from the valet and opened the passenger door for me. “Liane.” He smiled and motioned for me.
This was the weirdest arrest I’d ever experienced.
“Thank you.” I forced a half-smile and got in the car.
He slammed the door behind me and, when he went to the driver’s side, the valet caught my eye.
He offered me a sympathetic smile.
I barely shrugged my shoulder in response. Not only would I have to pay to presumably bail my ass out of jail, I’d have an astronomical valet parking fee on top of it.
Awesome.
We drove away from the front of the hotel. I kept my head down, staring at my purse instead of out of the window as the silence weighed down on me.
We drove for hours, but at the same time, by the time we pulled into a semi-deserted parking lot with dim lights, the clock had only ticked over five minutes since I’d gotten in.
Detective Potter killed the engine and got out. I didn’t have long to wonder what was going on, because he yanked open my door, took hold of my arm, and half-pulled me from the car.
Then, he put me in the backseat.
The childlock clicked on when he shut the door.
Now, I felt like a criminal.
Seemed a little extreme for someone who only trying to bring a poor, unfaithful bastard an orgasm, but whatever.
He fiddled around in the front seat for a moment before he said, “Name?”
“I already told you.”
“Your real name.”
I sighed. “Perrie Fox.”
He paused for a moment. “Related to Benedict and Damien?”
“Unfortunately,” was my answer.
He tapped his pen against whatever he was writing on before turning and looking at me. “Color me surprised.”
“Like I said: unfortunately, we’re related.”
“Uncle? Cousin?”
“Adoptive father and half-brother,” I answered. “And it’s unfortunate no matter the relation.”
“Hm.” He turned back in the seat properly and proceeded to ask me questions.
Age? Date of birth? Address? Phone number? Was I with an agency or lone? How long had I been doing this? How often did I do this? Did I have another place of employment? Did I have a criminal record?
I answered every last thing he asked me. The only problem was, with every question, my earlier anxiety returned. Every answer I gave made my heart beat a little faster and my breathing came a little harsher.
This time, it was uncontrollable. Nothing I could do would stop it. But it wasn’t because I was being arrested—it was because I was alone, and because of that, what would happen to Lola?
Felicity’s mom could take her one more night, but what if I couldn’t bail myself out or I was offered a fine and then jail if I couldn’t pay? I didn’t know the penalties or sentences for being a prostitute.
I’d been a stupid idiot who’d assumed I’d never get caught.
Now, I had been, and I had no idea what would happen with my daughter.
“All right, Ms. Fox. Thank you.” He slapped something shut and put it on the front, passenger seat. “Seatbelt on, and if you continue to come quietly, I won’t need to put cuffs on you.”