Page 8 of Filthy Little Lies

She faces off with me, looking every bit like a waiting bull ready to stampede the door.

“I wouldn’t.” I step inside, closing the door behind me. Using the key, I lock the door, then pocket the key.

Her expression falters, her shoulders drop, and her eyes widen.

“Did you just lock us in?”

“I did.” I lean back against the door, crossing my arms and staring at her.

After a few seconds of silence goes by, she starts to shuffle her feet. When more moments go by, she folds her hands in front of herself. She doesn’t like this, being made to stand in the silence.

Good to know.

“Are you going to let me leave?”

I grin, I can’t help myself. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.

“No.” I answer. “Are you going to start telling me the truth or do I need to get a pen and paper so I can keep an accurate total?”

She fists her hands. “Total of what? You keep saying things like that, but I don’t know what you mean.”

“How many lies you’ve told, and how many punishments you’ve earned.”

Her face blanches. “Punishments.”

I nod. “You didn’t think you’d try to sell me crappy diamonds and get away with it.”

“I don’t even know who you are!” She yells, her frustration bursting through.

“My name is Gabriel Valenti,” I say easily. Her jaw goes slack. She retreats another step. “Now, what’s your name?”

Her throat, delicate and thin, works as she swallows hard. Her deep blue eyes dart from me to the door then back to me. There’s no way out of this room, and she’s finally coming to terms with the trouble she’s in.

“Gabriel Valenti?”

“No, that’s my name. What’s yours?” I raise my brows.

“You’re going to have me killed.”

If she were a man, she’d be dead already. I wouldn’t have waited this long to dish out the punishment for scamming me out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. But I won’t kill a woman.

Even monsters like me have a line they won’t cross.

“Name,” I demand. Letting her continue to believe her life is in the balance is cruel, but it’s working. “Now.”

She presses herself against the wall. “Savannah Collins,” she says softly. “But my friends call me Savvy.”

We’re not friends, but the name fits her.

“Good. Now where did you get the certificates and appraisals?”

She raises her gaze to mine, the color returning slightly to her cheeks.

“You have to tell me what you’ll do first.”

Whoever she’s protecting must be important to her. That gives me leverage.

“I won’t kill them if you’re worried about that.” At least not at first. It’s really going to depend on how they handle the situation when I go to collect the money I lost.