Page 56 of Wicked Truths
I scramble backward, nearly tripping over my own feet as I flee to my bedroom. I can’t ask him what is going down in the club. He’ll kill me.
I pull my diary from underneath my mattress and pour onto the pages of everything happening in my life. From my blackmailer to Caleb, asking me to run away with him.
That’s what I have to do.
I log onto the Pampered Princess website and see the messages fromHisPrincess. The man who asked me to live with him in London. I know by his profile name he thinks I’m going to be his sugar baby and give him whatever he craves.
I can do that. For a short time, at least.
I read his last few messages, especially the ones asking me to trust him. I can’t trust anyone right now. He can get me away from here, but I don’t need to spend my life with him. I just need to get out of Australia.
I chew my thumbnail as I consider if this is my only option.
I know it is.
My sister Lia has already been shot, making me understand just how much danger is here.
She warned us about this life, about these people, and she only came to the Gold Coast to look after her sistersand then… I suck back a sob. She’s the one who was hurt and I can’t help but feel responsible.
I told her I liked this life. I did. I liked the gifts, the money, the cars. But nothing is real. If I walk away tomorrow, I have nothing. Only the same as I had before we arrived in this opulent house.
No wonder Mom is trying so hard to get a good payout.
I glance back at the screen again, reading the last few messages from HisPrincess.
HisPrincess: It’s not too good to be true if you let me show you.
SweetBunny: How do I know you’ll actually come through for me?
HisPrincess: Get your passport. Go to the Gold Coast Airport on Sunday at four in the afternoon and I’ll be waiting.
My heart pitters against my breastbone as my finger hovers over the reply button.
SweetBunny: I’ll be there.
My stomach drops to the floor.
What the hell am I doing?
I have no choice. Once Dom and his mafia friends find out it was me who betrayed them, I’m as good as dead.
Yet for some strange reason, Dom’s words from our encounter in the pool slip into my head. “Because I want you.”
Dominic de Luca wants me.
Or does he?
Can I take the chance that he’ll save me?
I write the words he told me in my diary and a little about what happened with Dom in the pool. I don't call him by his name, just use his initial. Then laugh when I add Big to the D. He is big. I felt so small when his muscular body pressed against mine. How his tattoos looked like they came to life with the sunlight glistening over them as he towered over me.
But it doesn’t give me any clarity. Writing words down normally lets me see things differently—not today.
I drop back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as I think about Dom. About how I need to find out something about him. Enough information that will bring him to his knees, no doubt. But he is so dangerous, and I'm already making him suspicious.
Can I take the risk with my plan, or will he see right through me?
Just as I hide the diary, my phone dings. I know who it is.
