Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2) (10 page)

I find the thumb drive, and pull out the business card, which contains only a phone number. On the back is the project name of the program he wants me to steal. RV-7.

I want to throw up.
 

What should I do? This man has obviously been watching me. Will he know if I tell Ben what happened? Do I dare risk it? How could I betray Ben after being angry at him all these years for the way that he treated me? At least I wasn’t blind to his behavior, I got what I was expecting. This? He would never expect that kind of betrayal from me. It would devastate him.
 

What’s worse is that these pictures being released would devastate my sister. I don’t want her to endure that, especially after everything she’s gone through. If I make one wrong move, that man could release these pictures all over the internet with the simple push of a button.
 

I’m too scared to ask anyone for help, and I’m too scared to sleep.
 

I have no idea what I’m going to do.

The next evening, Ben and I are sitting together on a bench in a quiet, empty section of Central Park watching as the sun turns the sky a fiery orange and pink.
 

I’ve been keeping an anxious eye out for any movement around the park. I’m trying not to look paranoid, but when someone tells you that they’ve been watching you, it’s kinda difficult
not
to be paranoid. Did he have surveillance around my house? Had he been listening to my conversations? I didn’t know what or where was safe, and I was afraid to test the limits to find out. Maybe he didn’t have any surveillance on me, and was trying to rattle me by throwing that out there.
 

Well…it worked.
 

So, I’m doing my best to enjoy the evening, without worrying too much about what happened yesterday. I’m failing miserably.
 

There’s a picnic basket on the ground in front of the bench that Ben and I are sitting on. Earlier, the basket was filled with some food from my favorite gourmet shop. But now, our bellies are full, and we’re drinking some fabulous wine. Ben’s arm is around me, and his fingertips are lightly tracing circles on my upper arm.
 

I rest my head against his shoulder and cuddle into his side, enjoying the comfortable silence that the two of us have always been able to share.
 

We’re both watching the runners that pass through every few minutes, the people walking their dogs, a family pushing their toddler in a stroller along the winding trails. The wind is blowing, cool, but not cold.
 

It’s perfect.
 

Well, it would be perfect if someone hadn’t blackmailed me into stealing from Ben in order to prevent pictures of my sister having sex being leaked to the world. I stayed awake all night trying to figure out what my next move would be, but I think I’m doing an excellent job of hiding that.
 

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I’m actually startled when Ben speaks.
 

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
 

I raise my head. “What?”
 

He gives me a look that lets me know that playing this off and pretending like something isn’t wrong isn’t going to work with him.
 

“I know you’ve got something on your mind. Are you going to tell me what it is?”
 

For the thousandth time since that man showed up on my front step yesterday, I wonder if I can just tell Ben. That’s one of the nagging thoughts that kept me awake all last night. I know he’d try to help me. Hell, maybe he’d just give me the program outright. Okay, so…yeah, as a business woman myself, I know that’s a pipe dream, but with this new version of Ben, I’m not sure that option is completely off the table.
 

I need to figure this out, and fast. I shouldn’t even be here on this date right now, but I was worried that cancelling would tip Ben off that something was wrong, and this is one part of my life that has been going well lately. I didn’t want to mess that up.
 

I can’t steal from him. I
can’t
.

Yet, I also can’t let Corinne suffer if I make a wrong move.
 

“Marisa?”
 

His hand slides into mine, and our fingers twine together.
 

“If you don’t want to tell me…if it’s a trust thing, then I get it. I just want to be here for you.”
 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I say quickly. That is absolutely the truth. I know I can trust him with this, I’m just worried about what will happen if the man who’s watching me finds out that I told Ben what’s going on. The cautious part of me wants to keep this wrapped up tight until I absolutely have to say something. “It’s just that I’m not ready to talk about it right now.”
 

“Is your business in trouble?” he asks, unable to let it go.

I shake my head.

“It’s…it’s not about your parents is it?” His voice is tentative.
 

I give him a sad smile. “No, that’s not it.”
 

“It isn’t anything I can help you with?”
 

I shake my head again. “No, I don’t think so.”
 

He lets out a deep breath, looking a little helpless. I can tell that he wants to ask me more questions, but he knows me well enough to know that if I haven’t answered him by now, I’m not going to answer him. I appreciate him noticing and caring, but I’m not sure what my next move should be right now. I’ve got a lot of experience with pretending like something terrible isn’t bothering me (thanks, Mom and Dad!), so I need to put on my everything-is-right-with-the-world face already.

To distract Ben from his line of questioning, and to distract myself from my increasingly panicked and depressing thoughts, I lean in and give Ben a kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums against my lips. “What was that for?”
 

Even with everything going on, I figure this is as good a time as any to start rewarding Ben for being a good boyfriend, if…well, if that’s what he is.
 

“It’s for noticing. For asking.”
 

The corner of his mouth quirks up into an adorable smile, and I just have to kiss that, too.
 

“I’m going to have to notice and ask more often.”
 

“That’s generally advisable, even if you don’t get kisses as a reward,” I say lightly, even though there’s an undercurrent of truth to the sentiment.
 

Ben re-corks the wine bottle, and puts it back in the picnic basket.
 

“This was a really good idea,” I tell him.
 

“It was yours,” he says, looking back at me with happy eyes.
 

“It was?” I ask, surprised. I don’t remember ever having an idea like this. I love this park, sure, but it’s more of a favorite of Ben’s, and I know I haven’t mentioned anything like this recently, at least.
 

“Yes,” he says, settling back against the bench, and wrapping his arm around me again. “It was the night after we had that big fight down on Broadway, remember?” He smiles a little, kind of wistful. “It was one of the few arguments we had that wasn’t…”
 

He trails off, and I’m curious about what he was going to say. I need him to finish that sentence. “One of the few arguments that wasn’t what?”
 

“Nothing,” he says. “That part isn’t important.”
 

“Okay. What’s the important part?”
 

“We got tickets to that play you wanted to wanted to see, and-”

I take a deep breath and nod, because I remember exactly what he’s talking about now. He was on his phone all night, just generally making sure that I knew that he didn’t want to be there.
 

“I remember.”
 

I left the theater in a huff at intermission, and he and I had argued about it loudly on the sidewalk, and drew some unwanted attention to ourselves. A couple of people had snapped pictures, and Ben’s parents weren’t very happy with us. Mine didn’t really seem to care, probably because they were up to no good themselves.
 

“That wasn’t a good night,” I say, letting him off the hook for the rest of the story.
 

Ben swallows so hard that I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath the collar of his shirt.
 

“After we made up, we went back to my apartment, remember?”
 

I do remember the making up…
that
was a good night. “Yeah.”
 

“We made love for hours, and after, we just talked. You promised that you’d never make me go to the theater again, and we talked about what our idea of a perfect date was. You said you thought it would be romantic to have a picnic in the park.”
 

I smile, remembering that night. “Even youthful me was into the wooing.”
 

Ben looks over at me with a hint of regret in his eyes. “And back then I couldn’t be bothered to woo you. I want to make sure I do things right this time.”
 

“You’re doing them right,” I assure him. Now, the person who’s doing things wrong is me. The fact that I’m even considering doing what that man asked me to do is terrible on so many levels. I decided to trust Ben again after he betrayed me so many times, and here I am, enjoying a romantic picnic that he made for me, kissing him, wanting more, all the while secretly planning on doing something that will completely break his trust in me.
 

I don’t want to think about that, though. I’ll think about it later, when I’m home by myself, guilt-ridden about being such a shitty person, and worrying about what I’m going to do next.

Ben stands up, swipes some crumbs off of his pants, and holds his hand out to me.
 

A slow smile stretches my lips, and for a blissful second, I actually forget about what had me so worried in the first place. “What are you doing?”
 

“Dance with me.”

“What?” I ask, with an amused laugh.
 

“Dance with me, Marisa.” His voice is low and gravely, but his eyes are open and earnest. So, I can’t help but do as he asks. I take his hand, and let him pull me up until my body is flush against his. His arms slide around my back, one hand venturing a little too low to be decent. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head against his chest, breathing in the clean, manly,
Ben
smell of him.
 

“We don’t have any music,” I whisper. My fingers stroke up the back of his neck, where they play with the hairs at the nape.
 

His fingers run a light circuit up and down my spine. He turns his head, his whiskers brushing my cheek, then he presses his lips against the shell of my ear.

“We don’t need any music,” he says, his warm breath making me shiver.
 

We start moving together in time to an imaginary beat, and I let myself melt into the warmth of Ben’s embrace.
 

“What do you think about this one?” Felicity asks, as she straightens out the skirt on a tall, blonde model standing in front of us. She’s lanky and gorgeous, the perfect fit for the new fall line that an up-and-coming designer signed on with me to debut on my website.
 

I’d hired Felicity on again as a last-minute thing after my last conversation with Corinne. She was right about Felicity: she was responsible for styling one of the top-rated shoots on my site, and I figured that it would be foolish not to use her for something like this, especially since the reception of her work was so good last time.
 

It was a no-brainer for me, and for the designer.
 

Now that she’s showing me the concept for the next sequence of photos, I’m not so sure.
 

“I like it, but I think we should do away with the wool dress in the next sequence, if we’re going with this here. Maybe put those printed pants on the taller model?”

Felicity steps back and gives the scene a thoughtful look, pursing her lips as she ponders my suggestion. “I like the aesthetic the way it is, and I think that keeping the dress in gives a better mix of styles, don’t you think? That way they’re not
all
in pants. Plus, the print on the dress works better with the background, in my opinion.”
 

I don’t necessarily agree with her opinion, but I’m paying her for her expertise, and that expertise has already paid off for me tenfold previously. So, I’m going to go along with her on this one, even if I don’t agree with her.
 

“Okay,” I say.
 

Felicity’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”
 

“Yeah, let’s go with your idea.”
 

Felicity beams at me, like she’s won a prize. Sometimes it’s difficult to remember how young she is. She walks into a shoot, takes charge, and makes the room her own. Then she basks under a little bit of praise, and that youthful exuberance of hers just shines through the professional exterior.