Reckoning Read online

  I memorized his face. His angular jaw just covered by the lightest stubble that I adored so much. His exotically high cheekbones and the thick eyelashes that framed those ocean blue depths. I studied the dimples in his cheeks that only came out when he smiled at me and that cute little birthmark by his left eye that crinkled a little bit when he laughed.

  We flew across the dance floor and I swung my hips in tune with the music, listening to the gentle strum of the guitar and the soft notes of the piano beat deep into my soul.

  “And you let her go.”

  Dean had wanted to know why I’d chosen this song and I’d told him it was simply because I liked it. He hadn’t asked why but as the song ended and he pulled me in for a deep kiss, I finally realized what it was.

  It was my way of saying goodbye. Maybe he’d realize it long after I was gone.

  I kissed him as I would kiss a lover because he was the closest thing that I was ever going to have to one. Our tongues danced together, and the audience cheered, but I was lost in that kiss, lost in the gentle feeling of his fingers on my bare shoulders and lost in that ghostly apparition of love that I was so desperate to experience just once in my life.

  When he finally pulled away, I resigned that part of myself and locked it away deep into my soul. It was something that I would never allow myself to feel again.

  I smiled so wide that my cheeks hurt and curled close to Dean’s chest.

  “You’re so beautiful, Sophia. Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered as he held me. After the song ended, he rushed me over to the bar. He gestured to the bartender, demanding that he pour me the most expensive glass of champagne that he could buy, which was really quite silly because it was an open bar.

  Within moments, he slipped a glass of something bubbly and pink into my fingers. I took a sip and grinned, enjoying the flavors of rosé and champagne meeting as one in a fizzy concoction that made my mouth water.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, and I nodded fervently. “Keep that bottle on ice, bartender,” he grinned, and the man chuckled behind the bar.

  Dean and I found a quiet corner with a comfortable loveseat and took a moment to just revel in the sight of the attendees enjoying themselves. The DJ was one of the best and it showed. With flawless effort and skill, he meshed one song smoothly into the next, building the tempo and the energy of the crowd long into the night.

  The rest of the night passed by smoothly and Dean was gentlemanly enough not to even smash cake in my face like so many others had. I appreciated that. Cake frosting and expensive bridal makeup just didn’t mix.

  When the hour grew late enough, Jenny swept me away yet again to put me in comfy clothes so that the two of us could escape to the airport where Dean’s private jet was waiting to fly us to our destination honeymoon in the Maldives.

  Exhausted, I fell asleep in the oversized seat and I was only vaguely aware of the fact that Dean had covered me up with a blanket.

  That was sweet of him. He’d probably regret that soon too.

  * * *

  When we landed, there were people waiting with handcrafted cocktails on the pier as we climbed out of the small seaplane that we’d boarded after his jet had brought us most of the way. A small group of two women and a man were quick to drape purple flowers over our heads before a rather lavish golf cart pulled up to bring us to our private beachside retreat. The two of us climbed on the back and I grasped at Dean’s hand, squeezing it tight with excitement as the cart whirred away. We drove for a good fifteen minutes into the dense jungle down a well-kept dirt road, and when we arrived I gasped at what I saw.

  A two-story bungalow was hidden amongst the trees. Behind it was the great expanse of a beach with jewel-toned clear water lapping at the perfect white sands. I wanted to dip my toes into the water right away.

  It was absolutely paradise, a secret luxury getaway with all the privacy and amenities a newly married couple could ever need.

  It had been his idea. I’d agreed wholeheartedly.

  I’d always wanted to see the Maldives.

  Another golf cart drove up behind us with our luggage and followed us to the front door. It was unlocked and when we walked inside, we were greeted with the delightful aroma of candles and fragrant flowers in beautiful vases spread all over the room. There was an assortment of delicious-looking chocolates and fruits set out on platters on the birch wood table across from the kitchen. Those accompanying us were quick in their work and disappeared once we were settled, leaving Dean and me all alone together.

  “There’s a full restaurant just a short ride away if you want something like that. There’s also room service. You can have whatever you want, my beautiful wife. Just ask and you shall receive,” Dean said. He loved being able to provide for me like that. I didn’t respond because I was enamored with our lodging enough that I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  I strolled through the bungalow, enjoying the natural tropical feel. Once I reached the back, my mouth opened in shock at the full gorgeous sight of the beach. There was no one on it. We were the only ones out here. Complete and utter privacy.

  I could walk down the beach totally naked and he’d be the only one to see.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “This is the honeymoon suite. There isn’t anyone else close by for at least a mile. Do you know what that means, my pretty bride?” he murmured.

  “What’s that?” I smirked coyly.

  “It means you can scream as loud as you want tonight because there’s no one but me to hear you,” he teased, and I chuckled before I rushed out and kicked off my shoes, wanting to feel what the sand felt like between my toes.

  He followed me and his arms wound around my waist, pulling me close. Casually, he kissed my neck as the wind whipped my long hair around my face.

  I turned my head and pressed my lips against his.

  It would be one last night. One more night of playing this sordid game.

  I was going to enjoy myself and by the time the sun rose in the morning, I would be gone.

  * * *

  Dean didn’t want to rush to our wedding night. Instead, he insisted on taking me to a candlelit white tablecloth dinner at the fancy restaurant complete with freshly caught seafood and the best crème brûlée I’d ever had the privilege to taste. He fed me bites of his dinner and I fed him some of mine. We talked about our visions of the future, what we wanted in our house together, the places in the world I wanted to see, anything and everything and in the end, nothing really at all because those weren’t my dreams.

  They were all his dreams. Perfectly tailored responses that I’d prepared just for him long before tonight.

  When the dinner ended, we walked along the beach back to our bungalow under the romantic glow of the moon and the endless glittering stars in the sky. It was slow and punctuated by long patches of silence, but it felt natural all the same.

  His fingers on mine were like a breath of fresh air. For a while, I allowed myself to pretend it was all real because I genuinely enjoyed his company. Would this be what it felt like to be married? Is this what it would be like to be happy?

  When we returned to the bungalow, the main floor was awash in flickering candlelight and when we walked up the wooden spiral staircase, I gasped at the rose petals strewn all over the surface of the plush white comforter on the massive king-sized bed. It was all very romantic. Even a girl like me could appreciate something like this.

  Dean’s fingers flittered along the naked skin of my throat until he wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me close. I sighed and breathed in the scent of him, his citrusy cologne enveloping me in a warm embrace that settled me, at least for the moment.

  I’d remember that scent. I’d remember all of this.

  Just one last night. I’d enjoy all of this for just one night.

  His hands were gentle as he grasped the edges of my thin sweater. I was intensely aware of the threadbare fabric scraping along my skin, ever
y single nerve on fire from the promise of his touch.

  When it came to Dean, I’d faked a lot of things, but never this. When it came to our physical chemistry, the two of us were fire. Many of my marks were clumsy and quite terrible in bed, but not him. Never him.

  With every touch, he made me catch my breath. Every kiss left me begging for more.

  He was a man obsessed with making me orgasm. He’d always said I was the prettiest when I came for him and that made this particular job more enjoyable than all the others.

  His movements were sweet as he slowly removed my clothes. He didn’t rush as he turned me to face him, just lightly dragging his fingers along my skin. His touches were teasing, and my nipples pebbled hard beneath the safety of my bra.

  I reached for him and he brushed my hands away gently.

  “I want to see you first. Will you let me?” he asked, and I bit my lip. Hesitantly, I nodded, and I let him do as he pleased. He’d never hurt me, and he was always exceptionally sweet, so I trusted him.

  Shame he couldn’t trust me.

  He lifted my shirt over my head, and I shuddered as a chill raced over my skin. It was quite warm, so it wasn’t from the cold. Instead, it was intricately connected to the look in his eyes as they danced over the bare skin of my belly.

  I smirked and teasingly traced my fingers over the shadow along his jaw, feeling the rough edges of his growing beard. It was short, but long enough so that when he dragged it along my skin, I shivered with need.

  I was going to enjoy this.

  He slid those knowledgeable hands behind my back, unclipping my bra with ease. I shuddered hard and his fingers dipped down to push my flowy cotton pants down my hips.

  “White lace. Very becoming on my bride,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I moaned softly, stepping out of my sandals as he pushed my slacks down to my ankles. I lifted one foot and then the other as he helped me climb out of them.

  In just my panties now, I stepped away from him and sat down on the bed. He watched me with a quizzical look as I slid back amongst the flower petals. Leaning back on my elbows, I spread my legs, putting myself on display for him.

  His gaze was electric. It only took that single look to set my skin on fire with fervent need.

  I smiled and cocked my head.

  He took a step toward the bed. For a moment, his eyes turned dark, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of anger cross his features, although it was gone before I could be sure. It was so unlike him that I sat up an inch to look closer, but he was already kneeling at the end of the bed with fingers sliding along my thighs and a wicked grin on his lips.

  “You’re such a tease, my pretty bride,” he said, and I cocked my head with a smirk.

  “Perhaps,” I answered, and he slipped his hands up around my hips. Boldly, he jerked my underwear down, and the fabric pinched me a little as he bared me.

  That was rougher than usual. He’d never been rough with me before.

  And then it was gone. Sweet, gentle Dean smiled up at me with a mischievous look that hid everything I’d thought I’d seen in an instant. I returned the smirk and he chuckled knowingly.

  “I want to see you,” he said softly.

  He dragged my panties down my legs and kissed up the length of my right thigh. By the time he pressed his lips to my pussy, I was already panting with need for him.

  He’d always been especially good with his tongue.

  “Lay back, my pretty bride. I want to hear you scream for me tonight.”

  * * *

  The night had been perfect. His tongue had worked at the cusp of my thighs for what felt like forever and I came for him several times before we made love like the perfect story book couple.

  I tried to enjoy myself but now that it was so close to ending, the whole thing simply felt hollow. My orgasms were good, and I was satisfied by the time he fell asleep beside me, yet it still felt like something was missing. When his breathing was steady, I slipped out of bed, my bare feet padding silently against the floor.

  I’d packed my laptop in my luggage, and I dug around until I found it. He was still fast asleep when I peeked inside the bedroom again, so I sat down at the kitchen table and booted it up. He didn’t know it, but I’d hacked his computer at his house. I’d stolen every one of his passwords.

  It was time to get to work.

  I cleaned out his bank account, his savings, his stocks, and maxed out all of his credit cards. I logged into the financial servers of his company and cleaned that out too. By tomorrow, his company would be in full ruin. I took everything he had, and I left nothing behind. I transferred everything to an offshore account that had been set up especially for me before this all began. By the time I was finished, he had nothing left.

  After that, I dressed quickly, pulling on dark clothes. My jeans were gray and stretchy and my tank top was black. I didn’t even bother with underwear. No one was going to see my naked body for the next few days. When I was finally ready, I gathered a few more things and stuffed them all into a dark backpack. With a heavy sigh, I slung it on my back.

  I took out the envelope I’d hidden in the secret compartment of my laptop case and crept silently inside the master suite. Without making a single sound, I laid it on the pillow next to him.

  I knew what it said.

  It was a confession. It would tell him what I’d done, how I’d married him for his money and that I was going to disappear. It said that Sophia Jackson was nothing but a ruse that he’d never have the good fortune to see again. The note would tell him to move on. It would also warn him not to look for me unless he wanted to die.

  With a quiet breath, I tiptoed out of the room, but I couldn’t help myself as I peered inside once more.

  Still sleeping, Dean looked like the perfect picture of innocence. His five o’clock shadow had grown thicker. His dark eyelashes framed his eyes, just touching the upper curves of his cheeks, and I wanted to reach out to touch him.

  I wished I could freeze time and keep this moment to myself, but I knew better than that. By morning, he would find the note. He wouldn’t believe it at first. No one did. He’d log in to all of his accounts. He’d think there was a glitch and he’d call them all.

  It would be no mistake though.

  I’d been the one to take all his money. I’d been the one who left him with nothing.

  By the time the sun set, his initial disbelief would turn to anger and eventually that fury would morph into hatred.

  It always ended this way.

  With one last furtive glance, I turned away and left the bungalow, disappearing into the shadows of the night where my own private transportation was waiting for me.

  Dean would never see me again.

  And that made me want to cry.

  Chapter 3

  A year and a half later

  New York was quickly becoming one of my favorite cities. Not only was it easy to get lost in crowds, but it was also extraordinarily simple to tail my next mark.

  His name was Tim Morris. He’d never lived in a place more than six months but had taken up residence here in the city for the past year. He owned a big oil company and was used to traveling around the world to places like Dubai to secure multimillion-dollar contracts quite often.

  I was just getting back to work and beginning the initial process of studying my mark before I engineered the first meet-up. Dean Waterhouse had been such a massive payday that the Father had allowed me to take an extensive vacation for the better part of a year. I spent it backpacking through Europe and enjoying life outside of the rich sector. I stayed in hostels and made friends with normal people and just generally made the most of my little piece of normalcy.

  Tim was drinking at the bar. His glass was filled with his favorite top-shelf whiskey. He fancied himself something of a cowboy, but he was pretty much anything but. He wore a hat, and he owned a fancy ranch in the foothills of Montana. He could probably ride a horse, but I would put money on the fact that
he’d never even mucked out a single stall. He was a weekend cowboy at best.

  Tim liked his girls country though. I cleared my throat. I’d been practicing my western charm, just for him.

  My hair was shorter now and very blonde. There was a soft wave at the ends, but it was styled in a bob. I had on a pair of jeans and a pink button-up blouse over a white tank top. On my feet was a pair of leather cowgirl boots that had cost the people I work for at least a thousand bucks plus tax.

  Who knew boots could be that expensive?

  I sauntered up to the bar and ordered myself a whiskey. I didn’t even need to look to know that Tim was checking me out. He liked his girls blonde and curvy. I made myself into exactly his type. He was also a man who wasn’t afraid to go after something he wanted.

  The stool next to me scraped against the floor as he pulled it out and took a seat next to me. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise and turned my head rather arrogantly.

  He liked his girls feisty. He wanted a bit of a chase before he won and took me to his bed.

  “Hey there, beautiful, what are you drinking?” he asked.

  “Jack Daniel’s,” I answered coyly.

  “Here. Try a sip of this and tell me what you think. I bet you’ve never tasted something as smooth and smoky,” he said confidently. He held out his glass and I took it into my fingers. I glanced down at the amber liquid with curiosity before I lifted it to my lips and took a small sip.

  For a while, I was quiet, letting the gentle burn ebb across my tongue and buzz down my throat. Tim wasn’t really a patient sort of guy though and just like I thought he would, he asked what I thought.

  “So. Good stuff, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

  “Let me buy you a drink,” he insisted.

  “Make it Jack Daniel’s,” I answered teasingly.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, yours is good and all, but Jack Daniel’s just reminds me of the horses and campfires of the open range back home,” I replied.