She ignored his tone and tried to smile at Beth Ann.
“Leave her be, Ryland,” Beth Ann chortled. “Dontcha know that Ayla’s too prissy fer her trailer trash family now?”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I have to get back to work,” she lied.
The truth was, Ayla was spending less time working at the office and more time working from home in Diren’s posh condo.
“She means she’s gotta get back to her boss’ lap,” Ryland sneered, rolling the data stick around in his hands leeringly.
Ayla did not try to deny it. There was no point.
Ever since Diren had brought her to the hospital, everyone knew they were an item.
Or are we? I don’t know what we are. I am a thieving, conniving bitch and I’m falling in love with him.
As much as she had tried to fight the waves of affection she had for her surly, immoral boss, the more she found herself sinking into the idea of being with him forever.
The problem was, Ayla was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. But you can’t be with him if he doesn’t know the truth, she told herself, helplessly wringing her hands.
She had bought herself a little bit of time with what she had done with the files but it was only a matter of time before Ryland discovered her betrayal of him.
Come on, Diren, come home. We need to talk, she thought, gritting her teeth.
Nervously, she gazed down at the cell glued to her palm, silently willing him to call.
He always calls me in the afternoon. He’ll call me at…oh dammit!
She had forgotten that the Stanhopes were going in to the office to seal the deal that day.
He’s going to be in a meeting all afternoon, she realized, full fledged terror gripped her heart.
The fantasy she had concocted in her mind dissipated and weakness seized her body.
Suddenly, the elevator dinged and Diren stepped off the lift, striding toward her.
“Oh, thank God you’re – “
She did not finish her sentence before Diren’s mouth crushed on hers, silencing her words and keeping her from speaking further.
Gasping at the abruptness of the action, she fell backward toward the sofa.
Diren was on top of her, biting at her skin as his hands gripped her roughly.
A spark of fear flooded through her as she saw the look of anger in his grey eyes, but she did not have an opportunity to question him, his mouth falling on hers again.
A familiar jolt of electricity forged through her. She was complete putty in his hands, always. All he ever needed to do was glance at her and her lust ran high. If he touched her, her juices started flowing, if he kissed her, all thought fled her head. His almost punishing fingers only fuelled her excitement, knowing that he meant to take her hard and fast – her favorite kind of sex.
But something seemed different this time, something she could not quite put her finger on.
He ripped at her shirt, pulling it over her head and exposing her breasts. He pressed his mouth firmly over her tit, sucking and licking as his hands pulled up her skirt and ripped off her panties.
Grunting, his hands rubbed at her moist center, barely pausing to unzip his Gucci pants.
He jammed at her like a teenage boy eager to lose his virginity, and Ayla struggled to sit up, wondering what he was doing.
Diren pinned her back down, his hand closing around her throat and Ayla instantly felt heat rush through her groin.
Diren hooked her leg and lifted it up, angling her pelvis to the perfect angle that his cock slid smoothly but roughly into her core.
He knows just what I like, she thought, licking her lips and closing her eyes as he entered her. There would be no foreplay that afternoon.
He had come home for a quickie and Ayla was happy to supply it.
She moaned, pinned beneath his pounding shaft as her other leg lifted too, encircling his hips.
Her core grew slick as his movements became more frenzied.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes popped open and her breaths became shorter.
A sweat was forming over his face but the intensity in his eyes held hers captive.
“Do you want me?” he growled, jabbing harder as she cried out against his grip. She tried to nod but his grip at her throat prevented it.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me you want me.”
“I…want…you,” she moaned. Ayla could feel her body beginning to quiver as her orgasm grew nearer. Diren was rutting into her like he was trying to outrun the devil.
His pelvis slid against hers, his sack spanking her buttocks wildly.
Suddenly he groaned and sputtered, throwing himself forward one last time, shuddering out his release.
Hot streams filled her and she tried desperately to coax the orgasm from her own body, but she could not. A little more friction was all she needed. She mewled in frustration, surprised that Diren hadn’t taken care of her first. He always made sure she had multiple orgasms before he took his own release. Her unattainable orgasm ebbed slowly.
Disappointed but trying to breathe, Ayla tried to swat his hand away but he did not move.
For the first time, fear tickled through her body.
“Diren,” she mumbled, her eyes growing wide. “Let me go.”
He did not respond, his pupils dilating as he stared at her.
“What did you do, Ayla?” he asked in a harsh voice, barely above a whisper.
Terror overwhelmed her as she tried to shrug him off but he held fast.
“What are you talking about?” she choked, starting to feel lightheaded as she continued to lose oxygen.
“I think you know,” he replied, his voice sinister. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Please, Diren…”
He knows! He found out before I could tell him. But how?
Suddenly, just before she lost consciousness, Diren threw himself off of her. His chest was heaving as he fought the inner battle that she was glad his sane side had won. At least she hoped his sane side had won it.
She rose unsteadily to her feet and started to speak, imploring him to listen to her. “Please, Diren, just let me explain…” She looked into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, she thought she saw a flash of unbearable pain, but it was quickly covered by fury. His soul seemed to become granite encased right in front of her eyes.
Then he blinked and the fury was replaced by disgust. She tried to lay her hand on his chest, but he swatted her away like she was an offensive insect. The intensity of the disgust in his eyes told her that he would never forgive her. He wouldn’t even listen.
She couldn’t blame him, though, could she? She had known what the betrayal would do to him. How hard it was for him to open up to someone. To trust.
Is this hell? She wondered, slowly opening her eyes.
He stalked toward her slowly, as if hunting her. A predator stalking its kill. She tried to button her shirt quickly, feeling naked and exposed.
“Get out.”
She swallowed the bile in her throat, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks and fall unimpeded to the ground.
“But…Diren. I…love –,”
“Get. Out.” She could see that he was losing the battle with himself and for a moment, she felt a flicker of fear. He looked like he could commit murder in that second. He growled out, “I had better never see your face again.” As he spoke, he grabbed her underwear and tossed them at her. While she stumbled into them, he snagged her coat where it was hung in the entrance. Just as she fumbled the zipper on her skirt, he threw the jacket at her. Not giving her time even to put it on, he grabbed her arm roughly and pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face.
His words had chilled her to the core as she ran, without shoes, without her purse or cell. Dashing away as if she could outrun the hate in his voice, the disgust in his eyes as he looked at her for the last time.
How many hours since she had stumbled from Diren’s penthouse, she wondered,
withering beneath his scorching gaze. She barely remembered falling twice, scraping her knee the first time and her hands the next.
I hurt him. Just like his ex-wife, and everyone else in his life, she thought, her heart sick as she made her way out of the laneway and onto East 57th Street. Over the past weeks he had told her a little about the hellish childhood he had had, and also about the scheming manipulations of his ex-wife. I’m sure that’s how Diren sees me now, too.
She realized she had stumbled in a circle and was not far from Diren’s luxurious condo on Park Avenue but she dared not go there.
I need to make him understand, she thought desperately. But the time for that had passed. Whatever she and Diren had shared was over.
Ayla had been certain he was going to kill her, and she knew that he would never listen to her or let her explain.
I did this to myself, she thought miserably as she walked, her eyes fixated on the wet cement at her feet.
She had nowhere to go, no cell phone to call anyone…
Suddenly her blood ran cold.
What if Ryland called? What if Ryland discovered that she had encrypted the files with Sonia’s help?
Desperation guided her and Ayla began to walk, steadfast and sure toward Lexington Avenue.
She knew what she had to do.
There was only one way to end the chaos now.
Swallowing her dread, she marched down Lexington and up East 51st Street.
She paused then, inhaling sharply as the building loomed frighteningly before her.
Ayla gathered her strength and walked resolutely up the steps, pulling open the glass doors before she could change her mind.
“Are you all right, miss?” the man behind the desk asked, leaning forward to examine her dishevelled appearance.
“No,” she replied firmly. “I need to speak with someone.”
“About what? Were you mugged? Assaulted?”
“No,” Ayla sighed. “I murdered someone eleven years ago and I need to turn myself in.”
And as she said the words, she felt different immediately. At first, she felt relief. The guilt and weight that she had carried for the past eleven years melted away. For the first time since that fateful day, she felt like she was clean. She stood taller, her shoulders pushed back. She took a deep, cleansing breath. And then the second feeling overwhelmed her. The finality. The feeling of bars slamming closed on her freedom and her happiness. She would go to jail for this. She would lose everything. Her job. Her relationship. Her family.
But who was she kidding, really? Her job and her relationship were already lost to her. And her family was part of what had kept her tied down all these years. She would accept her punishment and do her time. Then she would be clear to start a new life. Free from the guilt, and more importantly, free of Ryland. She raised her chin and stared at the officer behind the desk, ready to step into the next desolate chapter of her life.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mr. Benning, have you heard?” Catrina asked, pulling open the inner office without warning.
“Really?” Diren snarled. “You just waltz in here any time?”
She didn’t seem taken aback by his anger which annoyed Diren further, but before he could order her out, she reached for the remote control off the coffee table and turned on the sixty-four-inch television mounted on the wall.
“What the hell are you doing?” Diren barked, furiously. “You can watch t.v – “
“Shh!” she hissed, gesturing at the screen. Diren had no choice but to look where she was pointing.
His jaw slammed shut as he saw Ayla being led from the police station in handcuffs.
“…have no way of knowing just what she is being charged with at this time. There has been no word from her employer and recent boyfriend, Diren Benning, but we will keep you updated as we learn more.”
What the fuck? He wondered, shaking his head.
Scowling, he jumped to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Catrina cried. “You can’t go there! It will be a media circus! They’ll photograph you!”
“It’s going to be just as bad here,” he replied. “I need to get her out of there.”
Diren did not want to admit how relieved he felt to see that Ayla was all right.
The previous day, his fury had been beyond anything he had ever known, and he hadn’t been sure that he could stop himself from killing Ayla.
But after she had tripped from the apartment, stumbling away with just the clothes on her back, his heart had been conflicted.
He wanted to go after her but he knew what message that would send; that he was easily manipulated at the hands of a con artist and free to be played again.
Screw her. She’s a wretched, evil bitch who deserves exactly what she gets, he told himself. Now he wondered why he was going to her rescue.
Because my name is attached to her now, thanks to my own stupidity and I have to get her out of this mess. After I do, I’m sending her away so I never have to look at her face again.
His Cayman Island accounts were being heavily monitored by Ollie and thus far there had been no activity but Diren wondered how long it would be before her accomplice tried something.
If she has an accomplice.
He stepped onto the sidewalk and made his way toward the police precinct, biting on his lip.
It didn’t make sense. Something didn’t fit but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
She’s worked for Benning Media for years. Why would she bide her time for so long if she was always a con artist?
He pushed the thought from his mind and hurried toward the 17th Precinct.
“My name is Diren Benning,” he informed the desk officer. “I am here about my assistant, Ayla Dumas.”
The desk sergeant peered at him with interest.
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” he drawled. “Your girlfriend is on her way back from court as we speak.”
Diren gritted his teeth.
“On what charges?” he demanded, but the sergeant only shrugged.
“Dunno,” he replied, turning back to his cell phone.
Diren checked his anger and folded his arms across his chest, beginning to pace the room.
Even if she did turn herself in, there is no complainant, not yet. They would have come to me if she was here about the information theft. And we both know I wouldn’t admit to anything because no one can know about those accounts. If Sloane learns about them…
Suddenly, he wondered if Ayla had been working with Sloane and the thought made him nauseous.
He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched almost to the breaking point.
That would make the most sense.
“Diren, what are you doing here?”
He whirled and glared at Ayla as she walked toward him, rubbing her wrists.
“You’re working with my ex-wife, aren’t you?” he spat out and Ayla shook her head, eyes wide with shock.
“No!” she hissed, grabbing his arm. “Come with me.”
She yanked him out of the police station and Diren suddenly realized she was free.
“Wait, you’re not being charged with anything?” he demanded and she shook her head.
“No,” she sighed. “Listen, I need to explain everything to you.”
“You’re working with Sloane. That’s why you stole those numbers, isn’t it?”
Ayla scowled.
“I know how you feel about your ex-wife, Diren, and I thought I made my feelings about her fairly clear also. So, hell no, I am not working with your ex-wife.”
His jaw clenched as he peered at her, unsure of what to believe.
She seemed sincere but she had seemed sincere when he thought she cared about him too.
“What did you tell them? Did you tell them about my accounts?” he demanded and her eyes grew wider if possible.
“Are you crazy?” she asked. “This had nothing to do with you directly…”
She trailed off and slumped ag
ainst the wall.
“I thought I killed someone,” she muttered. “I always believed I had.”
Diren gaped at her.
“What?” he exclaimed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, when I was fifteen, I accidentally ran over my stepfather with a car. Ryland was there and saw the whole thing.”
She paused and peered at him.
“He hid it somehow, making it look like Darius took off with Ryland’s girlfriend, Tara-Lynn, so the cops never looked for him.”
Shock filled Diren as he listened to Ayla regale the tale in a stoic, monotone voice.
“But Ryland was the one who killed him. Darius was still alive when we drove away. Tara-Lynn was probably dead. Ryland had stabbed her three times. And then he forced me out of the car and went back... Ryland went back and killed Darius...but all these years… all the times he forced me to do things for him…he knew I hadn’t killed anyone. He was only using me.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to Diren and he studied her pale face closely.
“How do you know Ryland killed him?”
She smirked.
“Because they found Darius years ago in the East River. He was a John Doe up until yesterday. His injuries were consistent with having been run over, but it was the bullet in his head that had killed him. And the statute of limitations for prosecution on that accident is long since over and there’s not enough proof to charge me with murder so here I am.”
She began to laugh, almost hysterically.
“Here I am.”
Diren reached for her, grasping her shoulders with both hands.
“Is that who asked you to steal the account numbers?” he asked, slowly beginning to understand the life which Ayla had lived for over a decade.
She escaped the trailer park, but never her family. They haunted her everywhere she went.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she muttered, turning away. “I – I just want you to know how sorry I am for everything that’s happened. I gave Ryland the accounts but the file was encrypted. He has techy friends apparently so I don’t know how long it will take him to hack it.”
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