Twisted Lies (Twisted 4) - Page 6

I was only surprised they hadn’t exiled him earlier.

Dante and I discussed the trial and business for a while until he excused himself to take a call.

As the CEO of the Russo Group, a luxury goods conglomerate that encompassed over three dozen fashion, beauty, and lifestyle brands, he spent half his waking hours on business calls.

In the absence of conversation, my mind drifted toward a certain brunette.

If my thoughts were chaos, she was my anchor.

They always went back to her.

The memory of her walking down the snow-covered street, her hair tossed wild by the wind and her eyes shining like jade, lingered in my brain. The warmth of her, like a ray of sunshine peeking out after a storm, lingered everywhere else.

I shouldn’t have lowered her rent when she came to see the building, and I damn well shouldn’t have let her keep the rent after Jules moved out. In exchange for taking care of my fucking plants, no less, because a selfless concession on my part would’ve been too suspicious.

I didn’t give a shit about those plants. They were only there because my interior designer insisted they “rounded out the apartment.” But I knew Stella loved plants, and it was better than asking her to file my papers.

Living in the same building as her was the worst kind of distraction, and I had no one except myself to blame.

Twin flames of resentment and frustration burned in my chest. I was weak for Stella Alonso, and I hated it.

I pulled out my phone and almost tapped into a certain social media app before I caught myself. I entered the code for my encrypted mobile network instead.

It wasn’t as powerful as the one that resided on my laptop, but it got the job done in a pinch.

My frustration needed an outlet, and today, John Madigan was the lucky target. I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving.

I pulled up a list of his devices. Phones, computers, even his smart fridge and Bluetooth-enabled alarm clock, plus all their associated accounts.

It took me less than five minutes to find what I was looking for—a video he’d stupidly taken of himself forcing a blowjob on his assistant, and a series of disgusting messages he sent one of his golf buddies after the fact.

I forwarded those to the prosecution using the golf buddy’s email. If they were halfway decent at their job, they could convince the judge it was admissible evidence.

The messages also went to key media outlets, because why not?

Then, just because Madigan’s face annoyed me, I swapped his most valuable stocks for junk ones and donated a significant chunk of his cash to anti-sexual violence organizations.

Tension released from my muscles with each tap of a button.

Cyber sabotage was better than a deep tissue massage.

I pocketed my phone right as Dante reentered the library.

“I have to go back to New York.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, his face stamped with irritation. “There’s a…personal matter I need to deal with.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said mildly. “I’ll walk you out.”

I waited until he was halfway out the door before I added, “The personal matter wouldn’t happen to be Vivian’s ex-boyfriend showing up at your house, would it?”

Surprise coasted through his eyes, followed by fury. “What the fuck did you do, Harper?”

“I merely facilitated a reunion between your fiancée and an old friend.” One little text from “Vivian,” and the ex came running. Pathetic, yet useful. “Since you enjoyed fucking with me so much, I figured I’d return the favor. Oh, and Dante?” I paused with my hand on the knob. Dante’s anger was a pulsing force in the hall, but he’d get over it. He should’ve known better than to put on that little show in the lobby. “Touch Stella again, and you’ll no longer have a fiancée.”

I slammed the door in his face.

Dante was my first client and an old friend. I didn’t provoke him often.

But like I said, I didn’t like people touching what was mine.

I straightened my shirtsleeves and returned to the library, where my gaze traveled the length of the room until it rested on the giant framed puzzle hanging over the fireplace mantel.

Ten thousand tiny pieces formed a breathtaking rainbow gradient whose lines created a three-dimensional spherical effect.

It had taken me four months to complete it, but it’d been worth it.

Crosswords, jigsaws, ciphers, they all fed my insatiable need for a challenge. Stimulation. Something to brighten up the ennui of a world that was always five steps behind.

The harder the puzzle, the more I craved and dreaded its solution.

There was only one puzzle I hadn’t solved. Yet.

I ran my thumb over the small turquoise ring nestled in my pocket.

Once I did, I could put my disturbing obsession with Stella Alonso behind me once and for all.

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