Page 49 of Iris' Lying Eyes
“A rich dude named Yates. Some contacts, I don’t know their names, but I know they’re bigwigs in the political world. Castinetti.”
Bastion rolls over and tips my chin toward the moonlight. His eyes roam over the road rash on my cheek before he says, “Who else?”
“Used to be Jagger, but I don’t know if he goes through him anymore.”
“And?” His eyes bite into mine, and I frown.
“What?”
“Why are you protecting him?” He demands, his grip starting to sting.
“Who?” I say, wrenching away.
“Roman.”
My jaw drops. “Wh-what?”
“Are you fucking him too? Or is he holding something over you?”
I speak before I think, but I can’t help it. “I wouldn’t fuck him.”
Bastion rolls away and stares at the ceiling while I exhale quietly. Shit. Now what?
“I’m going to find out whatever it is you’re hiding, so you might as well tell me now.”
“Why?” I whisper, turning my head his way.
I can’t see him, but I feel his menace when he says, “Because, you’re the lock. I just need to find the damn key.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Don’t matter. You have something to say, say it now.”
After a pause, I roll away from him and murmur, “You’re going to hate me if I do.”
∞∞∞
I fell asleep after staring at the wall for what seemed like hours. In the middle of the night, I come awake when Bastion moves beside me, and silently, I watch him leave the bed.
Once he puts on his pants and exits the room, I sit up and grab the shirt he left on the chair.
Is he going to that mousy little maid? Or something else?
With a burning chest, I poke my head out the door and tiptoe down the hall, spying Bastion making a right at the bottom of the stairs.
Carefully I ease down the steps and follow, slamming against the wall when he comes into view. Thankfully, he turns into a room, and I clutch my racing heart before sliding the rest of the way to the threshold and cocking my head.
It’s quiet, and I frown before his deep voice says, “Yeah? Why would she do that?”
Leaning my head against the wall, I listen to the one-sided conversation with no shame. I suspect he’d do it in a heartbeat anyway.
We were both raised to be suspicious.
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Who’s she? Me? Hm.
“Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing.”