Page 32 of Corruption
“It wasn’t hard, but I expect you to be there,” he told me.
“Vince, are you crazy? The moment Pete’s father looks at me he will have his hands wrapped around my throat and strangle me!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t worry. This is why they are coming here. They will come on our ground, and thereby, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“But I am slightly worried,” I admitted. “What made them agree to come here? Did you promise them my dick on a silver platter or something?”
Vince began laughing, but I was absolutely serious, and he slowly calmed down. “Of course not. They aren’t getting their hands on you. I promised you when you were younger no one would hurt you again, and I intend to keep that promise.”
“Then just explain how the hell you got them to listen!”
“I promise everything will be made clear in the meeting. Just be there,” he urged.
“Is the mystery really necessary? Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you,” he swore, replying fast and without hesitation.
“Then what is it you can’t tell me?”
Vince grew slightly concerned, and I watched as his eyes darted to the table for a moment, unable to focus on me.
“Vince?” I called, and he focused on me again.
“Just come to the meeting.”
I groaned, not enjoying being kept constantly in the dark by him, but I nodded, trusting him too.
“I will.”
“And let your pet stay,” he reminded me.
“Yes, because I would bring her,” I remarked sarcastically.
“Now that we agree you’re obsessed, I can’t be sure what you might do,” he quipped, making me roll my eyes, but I was still smiling.
Chapter 14
-Alison-
My arms were trembling from the restraints, and sweat dripped from my forehead as I continued to hang suspended and stretched out. Jared’s laptop remained in front of me, tempting me to try to move, to see if I could get my feet beneath me and push the fucking thing off the bed. But even slight movements sent waves of pain through my body, keeping me trapped. Time seemed to drag on, and Jared still hadn’t returned.
My stomach growled loudly, a stark reminder of my own self-inflicted hunger. I could have simply admitted I was hungry, and Jared would have allowed me to eat. Why was I so self-destructive? Even this secret he had exposed was a result of my own recklessness. While the slap he received was undoubtedly well-deserved, I should have controlled my temper and not erupted like a volcano. Jared was right—I had brought this situation upon myself because of those secrets. He could dangle them over my head and wield them as he pleased.
It was entirely my fault that my family and friends remained ignorant of the truth about my marriage. Though my parents weren’t the ideal example of a happy marriage, and most of my friends seemed to be hiding their own relationship struggles, no one revealed the dirt. We all wore masks and maintained the façade. And now, everyone would know.
I was already mentally strategizing damage control, but it was challenging to salvage anything when everyone believed I was on vacation. If I had been at home, I might have been able to dismiss it all as fake—photoshopped, AI-generated. People would readily accept my flimsy excuses rather than believe that Warren and I had actual problems. Outwardly, we were the perfect couple, so why should anyone buy into such “poorly” fabricated photos? However, I wasn’t at home, and I couldn’t control the damage. The longer I remained silent about this, the more wild theories would appear. By the time I returned, it might have spiraled out of control, and many might actually believe those fucking pictures.
“Fucking Jared Tyler,” I muttered under my breath,
And as if I had summoned him, the door opened, and Jared strolled in. When he saw me in this vulnerable position, a wicked smile graced his lips. I glared at him but would do anything to escape this torturous situation. My arms were on fire.
“Can I please be released?” I implored.
“Hungry?” he asked, that infuriating smirk still dancing on his lips.
“Yes, starving, and my arms are burning.”
He stood by the door, waiting, and it suddenly clicked what I needed to say.
