And that made me realize things weren’t good at all.

Chapter 25

Sela

It took no more than two minutes before I heard Beck leave the condo before I was up out of bed and getting my day started. I took a quick shower. I didn’t bother with makeup but gave my teeth a good brushing before twisting and clipping my wet hair to the back of my head.

In ten minutes, I was dressed and had my first cup of tea. I even took the time to make toast with butter and jam and eat it.

Then I walked into our bathroom, grabbed my makeup bag, and pulled out the key to Beck’s office.

I slid it in the lock and it turned as easily as cutting through butter with a warm knife. I opened the door and took stock of my feelings. Not an ounce of guilt possessed me.

Nothing but raw determination.

While I might have hesitated before in making this move, I did so back when my feelings for Beck were solid. But after Saturday night, when I saw just how easy Beck was letting JT back into his life, and with Beck just yesterday defending that lecherous bastard to me, I knew I couldn’t let those feelings interfere anymore.

Yes, there are feelings. Deep, abiding, overwhelming feelings I have for Beck. But they are now tempered with bitter hatred that resurfaced toward JT Saturday night. It might not have been so bad just suffering JT’s slights and innuendos. I probably could have handled that.

But I felt something grow cold inside of me when I watched Beck and JT hugging it out all bro style outside the restaurant. I saw renewed respect in Beck’s eyes, and happiness to be in JT’s presence. I watched all through dinner as they told war stories and shared memories of growing up together, and it filled me with such bitterness I had to choke down my meal.

While I loved Beck inside me this morning, I rode him with a slight hardening of my heart, instead focusing on just the bodily pleasures we could bestow on each other. I had Beck and I wasn’t prepared to give him up, but I wasn’t prepared to give up myself either.

And to be true to myself, I have accepted that I’m going to have to make JT suffer for what he did. I’m going to obliterate him from this earth, and not only will that avenge the atrocities he dealt me, it will free Beck from that monster as well. I consider this a mission of liberation for us both, and if there’s something in this office that can help me, I’m going to utilize it.

Infiltrate.

Murder.

Repeat.

Very simple.

I look around and take in Beck’s office. It’s sparse and utilitarian, holding nothing but a desk with a computer and two monitors, as well as a four-drawer filing cabinet in the corner. I don’t give the computer another glance, knowing that I’ll never be able to break into it past Beck’s password. He’s too savvy to ever be that stupid.

Instead I walk around the desk, sit in the mesh Herman Miller chair and pull open the first drawer on the right. It contains hanging file folders and I pull them all out, roughly ten, stuffed full of papers. I open the top one and see bank statements with reconciliations stapled to the front. Flipping through, it looks like all of Beck’s personal banking accounts. Two checking and three money markets. The balances within are hefty but that doesn’t impress me. I know Beck’s rich.

The next folder holds a thick document entitled “The Beckett W. North, Jr., Trust and Pour-Over Will.” I scan it briefly and it essentially leaves everything to Caroline, including his ownership of Townsend-North Holdings, with it going to Ally if Caroline dies first. The next folder contains a separate trust for Ally that he set up and apparently contributes a percentage of his profits to monthly.

The next folder holds paperwork for a 529 plan for Ally. Her college is completely funded.

I set that aside and open the next folder, finding my original Sugar agreement that I signed with Beck along with receipts for the monies he paid me and to Golden Gate for my tuition. Paid in full is scrawled in blue ink on the agreement

Looks like I’m a paid Sugar Baby after all, I think bitterly.

I set that folder aside and flip through the others. His lease agreement for the Audi; the closing documents for the condo he bought two years ago; another folder with a mutual fund portfolio. All stuff that’s completely uninteresting to me and doesn’t tell me a damn thing about Jonathon Townsend.

I complete my perusal, growing more frustrated by the second. Still, I take the time to carefully put them back in the drawer as best I can remember they were arranged.

My eyes then drift to the four-drawer filing cabinet.

I push out of the chair and walk up to it, opening the top drawer. I’m immediately rewarded with a folder labeled townsend-north holdings. I pull it out and remove a thick document entitled “Partnership Agreement.” On the first page, I see introductory language regarding the formation of a partnership between Jonathon Townsend and Beckett North, with both of their home addresses following right behind.

Bingo.

I at least have one solid piece of information.

I know where JT lives now.

Don’t think me a fool. I’ve tried desperately to find his home address, but that’s some supersecret shit that the wealthy and famous alike can hide to protect their anonymity. I’m sure I could have found it before now with the help of a private investigator, but I didn’t have the funds for that. This little tidbit saves me the trouble of following him home from work one night, which I was more than willing to do.

I scramble back to Beck’s desk, open the top middle drawer, and find a square pad of yellow paper. I pull it out with a pen and scribble down the address before tucking it into my back pocket. I flip through the pages of the agreement and don’t see anything that will help me further, so I tuck it back into the folder.

I then put my fingers on the next one behind it, but pause when I see the writing on the tab: Schaefer—criminal investigation.

Confused beyond measure, I reach for the folder, intent on discovering what secrets Beck is hiding. My fingers grasp onto a thick sheaf of papers inside, and just as I pull them out, a shadow falls across me.

I turn my face slowly toward the door, and see Beck standing there, his eyes wide and condemning.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks slowly through gritted teeth as he walks into the office, his face contorting with rage.

I’m so stunned to see him there I can’t even force out an explanation. He stalks up to me, pulls the folder from my hand, and throws it sideways across the room, where it smacks against the wall of windows and the papers come loose, spilling to the floor.