by Reiss, CD
“He divorced her for me,” she said through sobs. “Not so he could fuck around with—”
“Easy there.” Logan plucked the wine from her hand. “Eat something.”
I dropped a few bundles of half-wrapped cheese in front of her, next to the box of crackers. Logan gave me a worried look. I shrugged helplessly. We didn’t know what to do for her.
“I told everybody. It was public. There are pictures. And it was okay they called me a homewrecker, because I had him. At work? They whisper. And these people work for me. They’re still like, ‘what she did to Tatiana blah blah…’ behind my back, but I could handle it because I had him.” She took two gulps of wine and snapped up a plastic-wrapped, quarter-pound wedge of brie. “My personal shopper… my favorite one—I told you about her. Lannie? She wouldn’t even look at me the other day. And I had to run a gauntlet in sunglasses and a hood to get there. I made a joke about Unabomber chic and the look on her face… like at least she respected the Unabomber. But you know, with a huge pink smile of course.” She wrestled the cheese free. “Like someone glued a big wet pussy to the bottom half of her face.”
“Like a cat?” Colton said, walking in without the joke-cowbell we’d bought him for his birthday. “Because the other kind… not so much.”
“Shut. Up.” Mandy bit off the corner of the brie wedge. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Colton stuck his head in our fridge because his didn’t have jack shit inside it and came out with a bottle of beer. “Renaldo slipping Gertrude his meat or nah?” He cracked open the top.
“Colton,” I snapped. “Really?”
“I want to die.” Mandy rested her forehead on the stone counter. I rubbed her back.
“What?” he said. “I figured everyone knew.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Logan suggested. “Papillion stock’s up.”
I shook my head at him sharply. He threw up his hands, at a loss for what to say.
“Let’s talk about Dante,” Colton said, getting onto a stool. “He called Mom today.”
“What?” Logan’s hands balled into fists.
Dante hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks. He was never forthcoming, according to Logan, but he’d gone darker than usual this time. No phone calls. No forwarding number at the private clubs he owned and Logan wouldn’t tell me more about. Nothing.
When Doreen started worrying herself to distraction, Logan hired a private detective to find him, but he’d come up empty so far.
“Right out,” Colton said, slashing his hand definitively. “He’s all ‘I’m disappearing.’ Not to worry, but basically, tough shit.”
Logan tapped his fingertips on the counter, staring at—and through—his brother as if debating whether or not to interrogate him further.
“I wish I could disappear.” Mandy drained her glass. “Just until this dies down.”
Logan’s attention went from Colton, to Mandy, to me, and I knew that look. It was the same one he’d had when he got the idea for us to separate for a while. It was a plan hatching.
“We can arrange that,” Logan said, getting onto a stool. “Ever been to Cambria?”
* * *
By the time we got to bed, it was after midnight. Logan had gone to his parents’ to get the keys to the Cambria house, and Mandy and I had gone back to her place to pack her up.
She’d kissed us and thanked us with tears in her eyes before driving west and out of reach.
“She looked more relaxed just getting the hell out of here,” Logan said as he slid under the covers.
“Honestly?” I scooted back so he could spoon me. “She wants the idea of Renaldo more than she ever wanted the actual Renaldo.”
“I’d never work that hard for an idea.” He reached around me and under my shirt.
“Of course not.” I guided his hand downward. “That would be so un-Crowne.”
“Nope.” He wrestled his way under my waistband and right between my legs.
“Totally Papillion though.” I twisted to kiss him.
“I love the idea of how wet you are.” He pushed down deeper, reaching for proof of the idea.
“It’s too late.” I got onto my back so I could spread my legs wider.
“We’ll sleep late.” He put two fingers inside me. No resistance, just swollen wetness waiting for him.
I kissed him and was running my hand down his chest when his phone rang. I groaned with annoyance into his mouth, and he smiled, reaching behind him while two fingers of his other hand were still inside me.
“Shh,” he whispered, then answered the phone. “Hey, Cooper.”
He circled my clit so gently my body screamed for more.
“You found him?” His hand stopped for a moment. “Is he all right?”
Logan and I made eye contact. His brow was knotted. I sat up, and his hand fell away as he got himself next to me.
“So”—he held the phone between his shoulder and his ear and got a pen from the night table—“where then?” He put the pen down. “All right. No… forget it. That’s good enough. Thanks.”
He hung up and tossed the phone next to the pen.
“Dante?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“Where is he?”
“On his way to Cambria.”
* * *
Thank you for reading Crowne of Lies. You can read all of my other books for FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
* * *
What’s going to happen when Dante finds Mandy in the Cambria house?
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CROWNE RULES
There’s a house in Cambria with no phone, no internet, no connection to the outside world.
Dante and Mandy are stuck there together.
He needs a live-in assistant.
She needs a place to hide.
If she gives him total obedience, he’ll do everything in his power to clean up the mess she made back home. Anything less than unquestioning compliance, and she goes back to LA humiliated.
Those are the rules.
Take them or leave them.
Mandy figures she can do Dante’s menial tasks for awhile. Do what he says until the heat dies down.
She has no idea how hot it’s going to get until he tells her she has to do them on her knees.
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Fiona Drazen has 72 hours to prove she isn’t insane, just submissive. Her therapist has to get through three days without falling for her.
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Acknowledgments
Before you send me a strongly-worded email, let me get this out of the way.
If you chose to change your name to your spouse’s, I’m not judging you.
It’s your name, do whatever you want with it. Seriously. Marriage is a series of compromises, realignments, and changes dir
ected toward the greater good of two individuals. If that includes having the same name for whatever reason, go for it. It’s not my decision and honestly, I don’t care.
However, these characters had things to learn and using name changes to shape their commitment really jazzed me. It’s my book, so it is what it is.
Also, in case you’re wondering, I didn’t change my name when I got married. One, I’m lazy. Two, my (real) name is rich with a cultural heritage that my loving husband doesn’t share. I didn’t want to lose it. My call.
All the same things go for being a stay-at-home spouse, with or without children. Ella was bored with that arrangement. If you’re not, that’s awesome.
Your life, baby. Make yourself happy.
Please thank a feminist for making the choice possible.
THE END