Throne of Truth

by Pepper Winters

  The officer nodded. “Welcome. You have thirty minutes. Press the button if you require assistance before that. For your safety, we’ll record visual but not audio.”

  Larry nodded, ever the professional. “Great. See you in thirty.” Pulling my arm, he tugged me into the room and closed the door in the guard’s face.

  We couldn’t lock it from the inside, but the illusion of having a door between them and us...fuck, it was the best goddamn thing in weeks.

  “Hey.” Larry slapped me on the back. “How you holding up?”

  I shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

  I could fucking complain, but Larry was already doing so much for me. I wouldn’t turn him into my agony aunt, too.

  “I’m glad.” Pointing behind me, he added, “By the way, I brought you a gift.”

  “Better be a burger and fries.” I smirked, turning on the spot.

  Something light and sexy and so fucking addicting leaped into my arms. “Penn.”

  Instantly, my embrace wrapped around her, squeezing so tight I had to remind myself not to kill the girl I wanted more than anything.

  I forgot about Larry.

  I forgot about cameras and guards and court dates.

  My body took over.

  I did the only thing I could.

  Her face tipped up.

  Mine tipped down.

  I groaned long and low as our lips connected, and she deepened the kiss the moment we met. I switched from expecting a friendly but purely platonic meeting with my benefactor to slamming Elle against the wall and kissing her until I couldn’t goddamn breathe.

  My hands no longer obeyed my brain; they tracked over her, my thumbs rubbing the beads of her nipples, barely hidden beneath whatever clothes she wore.

  I was so drunk on her, I couldn’t look away to see if she wore a convenient skirt to hoist up and delete the remaining space between us.

  Larry cleared his throat.

  It didn’t register or stop me in the slightest.

  But it did stop Elle.

  She withdrew from the kiss, pushing my chest a little to give her some space.

  I blinked, coming back to earth with a smash.

  Fuck, what was I thinking? Touching wasn’t permitted. I didn’t want to layer yet more crimes to my long tally.

  I’ll never fucking get out of here.

  And that was suddenly so important now I’d had a tiny taste of what I was missing.

  Holding up my hands, I backed away from Elle, looking at the ceiling where a camera had recorded every passionate indiscretion.

  “Shit.” My cock throbbed, heavy and noticeable in my prison scrubs.

  Elle rubbed her mouth. Her lips puffy and red from my overgrown stubble. Had it really been over a month since I’d kissed her? Fucked her in my limo? It felt like decades.

  She smiled. “That was quite the hello.”

  I smirked. “You started it. You launched at me, not the other way around.” And Christ that made me happy. To know she’d moved past the issues I’d caused, the lies I’d told. That she was willing to accept me as me, not as Penn or that phantom she called Nameless. Me. With no more bullshit between us.

  I opened my arms, encompassing the room and jail behind. “You’re here.”

  “I am.” Her gaze skated to Larry then back to me. Her fingers pulled the hem of her black blazer; smoothing it over the hip-hugging skirt that kissed her knees.

  Black suit, white shirt, and silver heels. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head—showing off the expanse of her long neck where my canines watered to bite. A pair of black framed glasses stuck out of her blazer breast pocket.

  She looked like a sexy librarian...or—

  “Elle is my assistant for the day,” Larry explained as he pulled out a chair and sat at the single table. “It was the only way she was allowed in.”

  My lips tilted, remembering other times when I’d been his assistant. He’d gotten me into Fishkill countless of times to see Gio—partly to be his helper and note taker but also to nurture the slowly developing friendship between the man I’d fought with on the streets and the man now begging for scraps of news about his brother.

  We put aside our petty grievances and discussed Stewie’s progress and intelligence at school.

  We bonded over caring for his younger sibling.

  We grew up.

  Leaving Elle—even though it killed me—I marched to the table and sat. My skin tingled to touch hers. My mouth watered to kiss her again. But I’d already risked Larry’s generosity by slamming her into the wall the second they arrived.

  I twisted to look at the camera again. “They’ll have that on tape.” I licked my lips, tasting blueberry lip-gloss. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Larry opened a folder holding the scribbled notes I’d sent him, along with a few computer typed ones from his own homework. “It’ll be on record. There’s no way for someone to alter the footage—not the lowly guy I have an understanding with anyway. But rest assured, they won’t use it.” He pulled his pen from his pocket, chuckling. “However, don’t go thinking you can get away with sex. I’m not leaving and I can’t go without my lovely assistant. Besides, screwing my staff would most likely end up on some dodgy prison porn site that would go viral and screw you over even more.”

  Dropping my hands below the table, I did some subtle rearranging of my hard-on. “I know you have a point but being in this room with Elle. Shit, you’re asking a starving man not to eat the banquet.”

  Elle blushed, pulling out the last seat next to Larry. Her hand snuck across the table.

  I snatched it, holding it sweetly as if we were first-time boyfriend and girlfriend rather than the reality that if I didn’t hold on, I’d drown in this motherfucking place.

  It took a lot to keep my cool and pretend nothing bothered me here. That I could handle whatever they threw at me. That I didn’t give a shit about Arnold Twig and his lying sack of shit son, Sean.

  But with Elle here...it made me softer somehow. Showed me how much I bottled up and how much I wished I could just run and be free.

  Elle’s gaze narrowed on my lower jaw where the fading bruise of the beating two weeks ago remained. “You’re hurt.”

  I shrugged, down playing it as Larry narrowed his gaze. He knew full well what went on in places like this. Elle had no idea. I squeezed her fingers. “I’m fine.”

  Her blue eyes glossed with tears. “But someone hurt you.”

  “I’m okay, Elle. Don’t. Don’t torture yourself.” My voice echoed with need for her to listen to me, obey me. She’d go mad if she didn’t. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

  And it was true.

  Ever since the beating, I hadn’t been touched. Sure, I’d endured a few curse words and stolen lunches, but overall, my strategy of staying low and alone was working. Half of the inmates couldn’t be assed with me and the rest were slightly afraid, wondering why I was so quiet.

  “Why did they hit you?” Her gaze danced over my face, latching onto a healing scratch on my neck. “Can we do something?”

  My heart raced in fear of her making things worse. “Don’t do a thing. It’s my fight. Not yours.”

  Larry backed me up. “He’s fine, Elle. Leave him be.”

  She sniffed, anger replacing her sadness. “I hate all of this.”

  “Me, too.” My joints splintered to drag her over the table and into my lap. To kiss her and delete the awful cluttered space between us.

  Larry caught my wistful expression. I wished he hadn’t.

  “It’s going to be okay, Penn.” He patted my arm, smiling at mine and Elle’s joined hands. “You’re doing great.”

  Once upon a time, I hadn’t trusted him when he’d said the exact same thing. I’d laughed in his face. This time, I merely accepted his assurance with a grateful nod.

  Elle brought my hand to her lips, kissing me quick. “I positively hate seeing you in here.”

  Her passion and affection electro
cuted my heart.

  She gave me the power to keep fighting.

  Returning the favor, I ran my lips over her knuckles. “Same. Prison doesn’t suit you.”

  She shuddered, sucking in a breath similar to what she did when I first entered her.

  My body hardened, my voice softened, my promise beckoned to be believed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out soon. And when I am, I’m never letting you go again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Elle

  THE LOCUSTS FOUND me the moment I stepped out of jail.

  “Ms. Charlston, can you confirm you’re engaged to Penn Everett? Do you know he’s served time for three other incidents?”

  Larry gathered me in a hug as we walked swiftly to David and the Range Rover. David once again barreled through the journalists, his large mass shoving people out of the way with no apology. Once in front of us, he cleaved the crowd like a giant snow plow, giving us a clear path.

  He couldn’t stop the photos or recording devices from being shoved in my face, but he could at least get me to the vehicle a lot faster than before.

  Penn’s words echoed in my head. “I’ll be out soon.”

  Would he?

  The more time I spent with Larry, the more I understood his mannerisms. Just like Penn favored shoving his hands in his pockets, Larry favored scratching his jaw where salt and pepper stubble appeared at the end of a long day when he was either unsure or telling a white lie.

  I said white because I doubted he’d ever truly lie. But he definitely wasn’t showing his own nervousness about Penn’s particular case.

  He’d already been locked up for four weeks, four days. The fear that he could be held so long before a resolution or verdict was reached petrified me.

  It couldn’t be much longer.

  I can’t leave him there.

  I have to do something.

  If Greg wouldn’t retract his statement and admit he lied under oath about the attempted murder, then I’d have to find other ways to free Penn.

  I slammed to a stop in the midst of our rush from the paparazzi.

  Larry glanced at me. “Are you okay? Did you trip?”

  David looked back, his eyes darting to my feet. “Do you need me to carry you, ma’am?”

  I scoffed. “No, I do not need to be carried.” Peering at the reporters, losing count after seven of their eager faces and blinking cameras, I said, “I wish to make a statement.”

  “Of course, Ms. Charlston. We would be honored!” A female shoved her mic close.

  Another said, “We offer great packages for exclusives if you’d like to come with me to the office!”

  I ignored both, pushing Larry away to stand firm and on my own. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t feed the vultures when they circled over carrion. But if I could start the campaign on Penn’s innocence, perhaps it would help us get him home faster.

  David’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t try to grab me or interrupt what I was about to do. Thank God because the picture of a silly little CEO being bundled up by her security guard and driven away was not the look I wanted to portray.

  Dad will kill me.

  But I was past caring.

  Inhaling hard, I said, “Penn Everett is innocent.”

  Questions landed around me like slingshot pebbles. I tuned them out, focusing on the short statement I wanted to make on his behalf. “Penn is innocent, and we will prove that.”

  “What do you mean by that, Ms. Charlston?” another reported asked.

  I held my head higher. “I mean that Mr. Everett has been incarcerated unjustly and when he’s freed, I won’t stop from persecuting those who stole weeks of his life with lies.”

  The irony that lies had come back to bite the liar wasn’t lost on me.

  Penn wasn’t innocent on that account. But I’d claimed him, and I wasn’t an enemy people wanted.

  I had funds.

  I had power.

  I had a grudge.

  I’ll make those people pay.

  Smiling at the flashing cameras, I hoped my stand had finally shown New York (and my father) that I wouldn’t run away from this; I strode confidently to the getaway vehicle and climbed inside.

  “Let’s go home, David. I have work to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Penn

  ANOTHER THREE WEEKS passed like soldiers marching me closer to battle.

  Two months in this shitty place.

  Two months of slop for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  Two months of bad sleep, aching misery, and unbearable loneliness.

  Two months that Elle and Larry went above and beyond for me.

  Twice a week—which was my total allotted amount—regardless if I argued or begged for more—she and Larry would call. His conversations were upbeat and positive. Her chats were sex-loaded and frustrated. Talking to Elle made my cock ache and heart squeeze with need.

  We never stepped over that line of turning a call into a pleasure fest, but it was hard. So fucking hard.

  Especially when her innocent questions like if I was comfy in bed at night were answered by my libido admitting how hard and uncomfortable it was—just like every inch of me dying to sink inside her.

  When visitations were permitted, she and Larry came as a pair. A new duo with a bond building by the day. They were no longer acquaintances brought together because of mutual affection for me. They were friends fighting the same battle.

  Elle came with gifts such as freshly baked lemon squares from her kitchen. Prisoners weren’t allowed to take such presents back to our cells, but we were allowed to eat as much as we could while in the common room, listening to tales of the outside world.

  The world I should be a part of but had been stolen from.

  Would I have gone after her if I’d known this would happen? Would I have beaten Greg up or merely waited until David arrived to do the dirty work?

  I liked to think my answers would switch on those questions. But they never did.

  I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t have waited for her father or bodyguard to do my job as her lover and protector. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands to myself, knowing Greg had touched her.

  He got what he deserved. And who knew? Maybe I got what I deserved, too.

  I’d been an asshole to her. I’d lied and manipulated and cheated her feelings for me three years ago with the feelings she had for me now.

  If this was my karma, I’d learned my fucking lesson.

  I just wanted to go home with her and never let her out of my sight again.

  I would never tell her, but her visits kept me breathing, yet they also stole my courage to keep going. She was so vibrant—so passionate in her fight to free me. So full of trust when before she’d been so riddled with doubt.

  Two weeks ago, she broke the rules and hugged me in the common hall just because she couldn’t be close and not touch. She risked a visitation ban when she kissed me last week to catcalls of other inmates. Promising me that we would find a way to get me free while being so goddamn sexy, I struggled not to come just from inhaling her perfume.

  She gave me life, and she took my life. I hated that she was out there, working so fucking hard on my behalf when all I could do was sit on my ass and count the seconds as they evolved into minutes.

  She didn’t notice my slowly dwindling enthusiasm or my wavering belief that I’d be acquitted soon.

  I smiled, I teased, I lusted.

  But behind that, I slowly became lost. I reverted to the homeless kid who had nothing but a pillow and a blanket surrounded by thieves. I struggled to maintain my humanity when all I wanted to do was kill the motherfucker who put me here.

  Arnold Twig shared my mind almost as much as Elle did.

  My hate festered, making me snap at those I cared about when really I should grovel on my knees for all they’d done.

  Larry kept pushing for a trial date and kept being told everything was going as fast as it could. No matter who
he called or threatened, nothing progressed.

  And through it all, I slowly shut down. I packed away my need for Elle, my love for Stewie, my friendship with Gio, and my gratitude to Larry. Piece by piece, I systematically placed each person I cared about into boxes and sealed them tight.

  I placed them in the basement below my heart and locked the door.

  Because part of me believed the worst.

  I was in here now.

  And no matter what we tried, I wasn’t getting out.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Elle

  “SOMETHING’S WRONG, LARRY. I can feel it.”

  I pressed my cell-phone hard against my ear as I paced my office. Sage trotted after me with every beeline from my desk to the door. The same door where Penn made me drop to my knees for him. Where he made me come just by pressing against me. Where he’d come the first time and showed me there wouldn’t be any bullshit between us when it came to how much we wanted each other.

  Those first weeks of our relationship seemed shallow now—all based on sex and no emotion. I’d allowed him to entrap me in orgasms and pleasure, keeping his truth hidden because I didn’t have the courage to poke behind his lies.

  But that was all over now.

  Now, I only needed to look at Penn to know how he was feeling. His dark coffee eyes were so expressive; I doubted how I ever listened to his fibs in the first place. The way he held his stress like a boulder across his shoulders, how his jaw never fully relaxed, how his nostrils flared when he answered questions he didn’t like, how his voice pitched into gravel whenever he told me how much he missed me.

  His face was an encyclopedia into his heart. It had dictionary references and thesaurus connotations, revealing what an arched eyebrow meant compared to a tongue flicking over his bottom lip.

  He’d never come out and said it, but I knew he loved me. I knew it in the way he whispered his thumb over my pinky when the guards weren’t looking. I trusted it in the way he looked into my eyes, so deep, so pure. Whatever words he’d spoken were irrelevant because ultimately, all he’d been saying was I love you.