Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 486

Still, I had kept some money from that life. About twelve million untouched. It was nowhere near enough if I wanted to go up against Dominic, or Celeste, but it had been so hard to raise, so painfully hard. It was my extra, my cushion, the proof of everything I had survived.

And spending a million of it felt like cutting off my own arm. Because I had earned that money on my knees and on my back, in a hundred different postures in a hundred different buildings, smiling up at men I despised while they spent their wives' money on me.

I hesitated, staring at the card, while the clock ticked on and the pain began to whisper through my veins again.

In the end, when I was left with ten minutes, I made my decision. My life was worth more than a million dollars. I would rather try this once and see what happened. And maybe, since they said my reaction was because I was a first time user, taking more of the pill would steady my body. Maybe the second dose would be the one that saved me.

I called the number back, and when the deep voice answered, I did not waste a single word.

"I am interested. I will pay."

"Good. I will forward my account details to you. Send the money as soon as possible, and leave your address. The pills will be delivered to you."

"No." I shook my head even though he could not see me. "That is too risky. I have to meet you. I am not sending a million dollars into the dark and hoping."

"Then we are done here. Only people who buy in billions have the right to meet me."

The threat hung in the air between us, and I hated him for it. I hated that he knew I had no choice, that he had heard the desperation in my voice and knew exactly how to use it.

"Hi. You must be Seraphine," he said.

The voice. Deep, smooth, unhurried. Exactly the voice from the phone. And here he was, the man who had sworn only billionaires ever got to see his face, standing at my door like an ordinary delivery boy who had made an exception.

I opened the door wider and let him in.

He stepped inside, and without ceremony he took out a bag and handed it to me. It was sealed so well it looked professional, and across the top, in bold letters, it read "Happy Pills." I tore it open, and my eyes widened. Inside were dozens of white pills, loose and plentiful, probably close to the thousand he had mentioned. The same pills from the hall. The same white tablets that had saved me and nearly killed me in the same afternoon.