DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

I don’t need his support.

I actually prefer not to have it.

However, he’s loaded, and his money going to his shady family or brother over the sins he committed against me and my own—it doesn’t sit well with me.

Atlas and Alaric deserve college and a decent car, all things I can provide. Still, he stole their ability to have a relationship with him. His money will go to a down payment on their first home, their weddings, for their children.

It’s their blood money that he tried to spill all over my condo floor after all.

Another reason is I wanted to give false hope. If he focused on me other than Mills and the twins, it’d give me more time to set them up how they deserve, then take his ass out.

I just need a few days for him to change the will and we’re on our way.

“See you in a bit,” I mutter, swaying my ass just a little more than I normally would for my husband, who faithfully won’t leave my side.

Our eyes meet from across the shop when I sit down, and he pulls out his knife that I gave him and a zippo lighter at his side, lifting them up and down as if he’s giving me a choice on which one I want him to use.

I smile and shake my head then roll my eyes because he’s impossible.

We’re not killing Alexander today.

We’re rattling him up.

His frame suddenly blocks off my view of the only man I want near right now, and Alexander sits, not wearing his usual suit and tie but a white dress shirt and black slacks.

“I think I might need you to pinch me.” His dark eyes take me in again. “Are you...you are Emmy, right? Now a twin sister she had or…”

“No.”

“Fuck.” He runs his hand down the side of his face, and his mouth widens as he drags it down. “You’re still absolutely beautiful and...even from the dead.” Alexander’s smooth talk pricks at my nerves as if I’ve forgotten everything, and his charm is going to cloud me from it.

“And you’re still an absolute prick,” I counter. “I came here to talk business, not how you think I look.”

“Business?” His features stretch, eyes widening for a moment while he tries to get his bearings. “Damn, Emmy, I’m still trying to get used to you being in front of me right now.”

I cock my head to the side. “Have you been mourning me?”

“Of course I have.” His face contorts. “I lost my girlfriend who I was in love with. Where the hell have you been?”

“Um, healing from my wounds.”

“At the hospital?”

I glower at him, ready to take the small vase with one red rose between us on the table and shove it down his lying ass throat. “I didn’t come here to shoot the shit.”

“And here I thought you may have missed me,” he mutters as if he’s actually sad.

“Did my fake death give you that impression?” He frowns at me, clearly distressed at my company. That I’m still alive to tell the tale to the whole world that he’s a piece of shit.

Because we both know it’s not because he cried himself to sleep every night over his loss.

“How did you do it? How much did you pay someone to lie and make us all believe you were gone?”

“Not much,” I deadpan. “But you should thank me, you weren’t turned in to the police.” That turns his sorrowful facade into a serious one.

There he is. 

He straightens his spine, somber now that I’m not feeding into his bullshit and the cops are the last thing he wants sniffing around his ass with his shotty dealings.

“What are you doing here, Emmy? You’re clearly still pissed.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

He pushes his cheek out with his tongue and nods. “Yes, you have every right to be.” His eyes bore into mine as if to convince me to believe him. “And I’ll do anything to fix it, Emmy. Tell me how.”

My forehead puckers. “Fix it? How would you do that? You said you loved me, and the next, you’re stabbing me multiple times. You almost…” I release a heavy and choked exhale, placing my palm over my heart as if this is extremely hard for me to speak about, and it is.

But not to this level. I wouldn’t allow myself to.

I’m afraid to get there and how deeply it’ll affect me if I ponder and let it sink in.

This is all for Alexander’s sake. And all I want to do is give Bishop the go-ahead to use one of his choice weapons on him right now.

“Anything,” my ex croons. “Whatever you want.”

I snort through my nose. “So if I told you to quit your job, you would?”

Alexander shifts in his chair. “It’d take more than me walking into the office and tell everyone that but…yes.”

“I don’t believe you.” I lean back in my chair with a thump. “You’re selfish and—“

“Keep going. Give me something else.”

“Time. I need time.”

He bobs his head. “Okay, sure, time. I get it.” He lowers his voice, gripping the coffee cup that he orders, and holds my stare. “Emmy, I love you, I swear. I fucked up.”

“If you’re scared I’m going to go to the pigs now, Alexander, you needn’t—“

“No.” He lowers his chin into his chest and rubs the back of his neck. He says that because he can pay them off. “I want a clean slate.”

“And what makes you think I should give you one?”

“Because I’ll give you anything you want. Because I made one mistake, a grave one yes, but I was stressed out and…Emmy, I’m so sorry. I swear to fucking God, I think about it every day.”

I want to flip the table over and pin him to the floor with it.

I want to jump on it a few times for extra measure too.

I want to plow my fist into his face and watch blood leave it while I think of the last month of