Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92

JULIAN

I parked my car in front of Seraphine’s house and just sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, my heart slamming against my ribs.

The video was still on my phone. I’d watched it three times already, each time hoping it would magically disappear, that I’d imagined the whole thing. But no. There I was, on that bed, that redhead’s mouth wrapped around my cock, her head bobbing up and down like a professional. Crystal clear. High definition. Shot from some hidden angle I hadn’t noticed because I’d been too busy thinking with my dick.

Two hours. That’s what they’d given me. Ten minutes had already passed.

I should have known. I’d been picking up women for years and I’d always been careful. I stuck to the professionals, the ones who worked for agencies or companies that would never risk their reputation on something this shady. But last night I’d let my emotions take over. I’d been angry at Celeste, frustrated, desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache in my chest. And I’d walked right into a trap.

The way she’d just left. No name. No number. No request for payment or favor. Just disappeared like a ghost. It had been too good to be true. And now I was paying for it.

But I’d be damned before I paid fifty million dollars to a thief. Or thieves. Whatever they were.

I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the name I needed. A man who owed me a favor. A man who knew how to find people who didn’t want to be found.

He picked up on the second ring.

*Julian. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help.”

“Go on.”

“Someone’s blackmailing me. I have less than two hours to pay a certain amount or they’re going to ruin

me.”

“Blackmailing you? With what?”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that I find out who they are before that deadline hits.”

There was a pause. “I’m going to need information. Do you have a face? A phone number, something I

can trace?”

“Yeah. I have the number they texted me from.”

“Good. That’s a start. I’ll also need the context of the blackmail and exactly what they’re asking for. The more details you give me, the faster I can work.”

I thought about it. The video. The fifty million. The wallet address. I gave him everything.

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“Give me twenty minutes,” he said. “I’ve got something to wrap up here, and then I’ll start digging.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“That’s the best I can do.”

I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I ended the call and stepped out of the car. Seraphine’s house loomed in front of me. I’d been here a few times before, back when Seraphine was still desperate for my attention, back when she’d beg me to come over whenever Dominic was out of town. She’d throw herself at me then, practically climb into my lap the moment the door closed behind me.

Now she was acting like she was too good for me. Like she was a saint who’d never spread her legs for anyone but her husband.

I knocked on the door.

It took a moment, but eventually the door swung open. Seraphine stood there, and I had to admit she looked like hell. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and puffy, and she was wearing a robe that

looked like she’d been sleeping in it for days.

“You look terrible,” I said.

“You’re one to talk.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”

I walked past her into the living room. I looked around, taking it in. I’d been here when Dominic was supposedly just a regular guy.

“So,” she said, closing the door and walking toward me. “You said whatever you wanted to say has something to do with Dominic. Tell me.”

I didn’t answer right away. I went over to the couch and sat down, letting out a long breath. “Pour me a

drink first. I’m exhausted.”

She glared at me. “Excuse me?”

“What? You’re not willing?”

She stared at me for a long moment, her jaw tight. Then she turned, walked to the wine cabinet, grabbed a glass and a bottle, and came back. She dropped both on the table in front of me with more force than

necessary.

I poured myself a glass and swallowed it in one go. The whiskey burned going down, but it helped. It dulled the edges of my panic.

“So tell me,” she said, sitting down across from me. “What information do you have about my husband?”

“I didn’t spend the night at home last night.”

“Okay.”

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“I got a call from my sister this morning. She told me Celeste had brought a so-called handyman into the house. A tall, handsome man. She locked herself in the guest room with him.”

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