Promiscuous Lies : A Single Mom Mafia Billionaire Grumpy Boss (Vengeful Lies Book 2)
Promiscuous Lies : Chapter 3

The moment I pull up to my house, Amy steps outside and says, “He fell asleep as soon as you left. You’re home early.” She pulls on her jacket. It’s been chillier lately as the season is changing.

“Early knockoff. Thanks again for watching over him, Amy.” Someone parks across the road as I watch her get into her car.

I spare a glance at the grass, which is in need of serious cutting. I might have time to do it this weekend. I wave to Amy as she drives away and briefly admire my modest two-bedroom house. It’s a small rental, but it works, and I can afford it.

As I’m opening the front door, someone calls my name. I turn at the sound of the voice and replace my boss, Mr. Taylor, leaning against his car. How the fuck does he know where I live?

He doesn’t move to come closer, and for that, I’m thankful. Because my first thought was where is my weapon? I have a bat just inside the door, but that’s it. Usually, that’s enough to dissuade someone from entering my home uninvited.

“Why are you here? You do know how fucked-up this is, right? To follow your employee home?” I say, carefully inching my hand inside to replace the bat. When I grip it, I feel relief straight away. Holding it but not showing him, I wait for him to answer. Fuck this, I’m not at work. I don’t have to pretend shit for this asshole.

“You left before the end of your shift,” he says matter-of-factly. It’s two in the morning, the neighborhood seems so quiet, and his voice carries effortlessly.

“Yeah, I have that privilege.” He doesn’t seem to like that response because he pushes off the car and stalks toward me. My grip tightens on the handle of the bat.

“So I take it you don’t want your money, then?”

“You could have called,” I tell him as he gets closer.

I don’t know this man. Yes, he’s my boss, but tonight was the first time I met him, and he seemed anything but friendly. He also has a dangerous aura around him I don’t trust. I’ve stepped away from men like him for a reason. And him being a total ass is another checkmark against him. And I let Paula know that.

He reaches into his pocket, and I lift the bat in response, gripping it with both hands. He pauses at the end of the path. Even in the dim glow of my porch light, I can see the slight tug of his lips before they pinch into a thin line again. He continues coming toward me, unfazed by my weapon. As I raise the bat higher, making a note that I have no hesitation in using it against his striking features, he pulls out an envelope and offers it to me. My gaze dips to the envelope curiously.

“What is that?” I nod toward it.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“Take it,” he repeats.

“What is it?” I ask again.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, do you?”

“And do you follow all your employees to their homes?”

“No, just the special ones, it seems.” He drops the envelope on the ground between us, and money spills out of it. “If you pull that shit again, you won’t have a job,” he warns before turning and walking back to his expensive-looking car. He doesn’t look my way as he shuts the door and then drives off. Momentarily, I wonder what it might look like after it takes a couple of hits from my bat.

When he’s gone, I lower the bat, reach for the envelope, and peek inside. It’s not just some money. It’s a lot. Baffled, I head inside and shut the door behind me, making sure it’s locked.

Is that really how much the girls make when called to perform for his favored clients? Shit, maybe I should’ve waited around if the pay is this good. Though I was confident, he was going to fire me.

I go to Bentley’s room and lean against the doorframe, studying him as he sleeps peacefully. I hate being away from him, even when I’m working to pay our bills. It’s just the two of us, and sometimes I wonder if I’m doing all I can to offer him the best future.

I yawn as I walk to the kitchen and begin counting the money on the counter.

Once I reach $1,000, I start to smile. Some nights, I can earn that much, and others, I’m lucky if I get four hundred. On those good nights, I put the money away to make up for the nights I don’t.

I get giddy when I reach $2,000. I could go shopping tomorrow. Take Bentley to get some new shoes. He’s growing so fast; the ones I got a few months ago are already getting too small.

$3,000. Holy shit! I have never earned that in a single night, let alone for just a few hours. While I hate my boss, I’m really fucking happy right now. Even if I was going to hit him in the head with a bat, I consider maybe he’s not all that bad. Well, at least my savings thinks so.

“Why is it pink?” Bentley asks the following day as we sit in the shoe store. He’s too clever for an almost five-year-old.

I’m grateful I get to spoil him a little today.

“We can look at the blue ones,” I say, pointing to different shoes.

“I like purple,” he tells me with a smile, and I can’t help but return it. I love him so much it hurts. I wish he’d stay this age because the years have already flown by so quickly.

It’s challenging at times as a single mother, but I wouldn’t have it any other way because it’s even more rewarding.

Sometimes, it makes me sad to think what my life would be like without him. Most likely a disaster. I’d probably be dead. When I ended up pregnant with Bentley at eighteen, I had no one to ask for guidance. It turned out I just needed someone to love and protect enough for me to get my shit together.

I was shocked when his father wanted nothing to do with him. I thought I loved that man. It turns out that I loved the idea of him, not actually him. My parents died in a boating accident when I was sixteen, and I was young and impressionable when I met Bentley’s dad. I fell for his fake promises and loved a man who only loved himself and the power to control others. I did all of that narcissist’s bidding until the minute I saw that stick turn blue, confirming my pregnancy. That’s when I saw him for who he truly was.

An asshole.

And so I ran and left him off the birth certificate.

I’m not a religious person, but I pray every night he never replaces us.

Bentley doesn’t know anything about him and hasn’t yet asked. I know one day, this will change. At some point, he’ll want to know all about his father. But for now, I want to protect him as much as possible so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing love anywhere.

How do you explain to a kid that their father is a narcissistic killer?

You don’t.

“You can have the purple ones,” I tell him. He starts school soon, and I’m dreading it. But I don’t want to keep him from being the social butterfly he is.

“For my birthday?”

“No, just because I love you. You’ll get other things for your birthday,” I say, hugging him. I’m so grateful he got my blonde hair. But he has his father’s brown eyes.

“Is Amy going to come to my birthday?” he asks. While he doesn’t spend heaps of time with Amy, he knows her. She is really the only person who comes to my house, and even though I’m protecting him, I wonder if I’m also coddling him. We don’t have many friends, and we have no family here. It’s part of why I want him to interact with other children his age. He’s only ever been used to adult conversation, and I don’t want to squash his childlike curiosity.

“We can always ask. What do you want for dinner this week on your birthday?”

It’s a tradition that we go out every year for our birthdays. Since we don’t eat out often, we pick any restaurant we want.

“I want pasta.”

“Pasta it is,” I agree, my heart melting when his little hand grips mine.

We pay for his shoes and then head for the car. He’s watching a couple across the road on a park bench with a newborn, and I can’t help but wonder at times if I’m failing him. But I know we’re better off not having his father in our lives. When I look at Bentley, I still see Bobbi. But as he gets older, I see more of me in him. And it’s selfish, but I hope it remains that way.