Page 47 of Filthy Little Regrets
My lips stay pressed into a firm line. I don’t know what she thinks she knows, but she’s not dragging a confession out of me. Besides, if they have evidence, what are they waiting for? Why not arrest all of us and be done with it?
“You don’t believe me,” Paige says, shaking her head. She pulls out her phone and shows me a picture. It’s grainy and black and white, but Rayce and Ryker are tied up and I’m squatting in front of them. “You can keep scrolling. There’s a picture of Rose too.”
This evidence is enough to bring a case against us. My forehead wrinkles, trying to figure out what Paige is after. “What do you want?” I ask, refusing to say anything out loud. She might be recording. I don’t know what her end game is.
Paige clears her throat. “I couldn’t care less about these assholes dying, but I do care about your fiancé’s extracurricular activities. All I need you to do is help me gather enough hard evidence of Mace working with the Marinos. Do that, and you and Rose are safe. These pictures disappear, and you’re free to live the rest of your years outside of prison.”
She wants me to snitch.
My extended pause has her eyes narrowing.
“All I’m asking for is a little information. Would you really send your best friend to prison over your fiancé?”
No. The answer will always be no, and she knows it. My mind reels, searching for a way out, but if Ian snitched, I’mfucked. With the proof she has on me and Rose, we’d both have a one-way ticket to a cell. Dare, Remy, and Frank would, too, but she’s offering me a deal. Dig up a bit of dirt on Mace, and this all goes away.
“I’ll be texting you soon, but remember to keep your eyes open. We need undeniable proof. But you seem capable enough of finding that.” She starts to walk toward the conference room exit.
“I didn’t say yes.” I rise to leave with her so it doesn’t look weird. I have no idea if Mace is still watching, or if he will watch, or even Orion, for that matter.
Glancing over her shoulder, Paige grins. “You will.”
We enter the main part of the office. Tony looks up and studies us.
Act natural, Cassia. You’ve got this.
Paige beats me to it. She spins around and grasps my hand. “Thank you so much, Cassia. You have no idea how much this help means to me.” There’s that nervous housewife act again. God, I hate her.
“I’ll get started as soon as I can.”
“Thanks again.” She leaves, twinkling her fingers at Tony. The bells over the door jingle, and I sit at my desk, staring at the screen and doing my best to look unaffected. If Paige was just another client, I wouldn’t be freaking out.
I haven’t agreed to anything, but I don’t really have a choice. The last thing I want to be is a snitch. Rose doesn’t deserve prison, though. She deserves more, and if I’m honest, so do I. I wanted a way out of this marriage. Maybe agreeing to dig up information for the FBI will get me exactly what I want.
Freedom.
Ian, what the fuck is going on?
We need to talk.
I’m staring at the list of messages I’ve sent, none of which Ian has responded to, when Rose breezes through the doors of Orion Investigations a few hours after Paige left. She has a bag of takeout from Luigi’s in her hand and another from the electronics store. Remy, her bodyguard, comes in after her, scrutinizing the place before sitting next to Tony. The two of them do that bro nod thing and go back to glaring at every corner of the room like someone might materialize and kill us all.
Rose makes a beeline for me but pauses, looking at my headphones, which are broken on my desk. I’ve been so stuck in my head, trying to find a way out of both predicaments, that I completely forgot about them.
Rose’s eyes find mine. “Everything okay?”
The FBI wants to send us to prison if I don’t do what they want. The happiness you’ve found will be obliterated, and we both know orange isn’t a good color on you.There’s a flutter in my throat. I can’t tell her any of that. If I do, she’ll tell Dare and Dare will tell Mace, and the whole gig will be up.
My stomach churns as I lie to my best friend’s face. “Um, yeah. I dropped those earlier. It’s no big deal. You brought lunch?”
“I thought we could celebrate,” she says, eyeing the headphones. “And now this makes more sense.” She sets the electronics bag down. “Mace sent me headphones and told me to drop them off with you. How he knew I was coming over is a little unnerving...” She glares at the camera, no stranger to being spied on. “Regardless, are you sure you’re okay? It’s not like you to break your headphones.”
I dismiss the comment with a wave of my hand. “It’s been hectic here. What are we celebrating?”
She plops the takeout bag down and whips out her phone, pulling up the browser and pushing the device into my hands. I take it, eyes widening at the error message displaying. The NYC Socialite URL no longer works. The site is down. Completely gone. For how long, who knows, but it’s down and that in itself is massive.
I glance at Rose. “This was Mace.”
She grins. “I know. Crue stopped by last night to complain to Dare, and I might’ve eavesdropped on the conversation.”
