The Master Of Deception's Richest Game

sat in a corner booth, nursing a black coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago. The caffein

blocks away. The listing details were sparse, but the pay rate was triple the standard hourly w

oating his tongue, and stood up. He adjusted his jacket

d wood. He could hear sound coming from inside. It wasn't music.

ment 4B. He smoothed his hair, practicing his empathetic listener face. He

Three sharp,

nce stretched for ten seconds. Then, the

her class and publishing papers that terrified policymakers. Now, she looked like a train wreck. Her blonde hair was a tangled bird's nest. He

he snapped. Her

g his voice low and soothing. "The

nalyzing him like a fluctuating stock market graph. She grabbed his arm. Her gri

she hissed, pul

ut it looked like a war zone. White roses were scattered across the floor, their heads torn off. A wed

ing room. She pointed a shaking fin

n," she c

tuxedo. A Tom Ford. He did a quick menta

I change?

a hallway. "Just put it on. And

hey were a little loose at the waist, but the length was perfect. The jacket fit his shoulders as if it had been t

adjusting the

looked up as he entered. Her hand froze. Her expression shifted fro

e him," she whispe

ky. She grabbed a velvet throw pillow f

u leave?!"

rs and angry landlords, kicked in. He could have batted it away. Instead, he

w a book next. It missed his head by

orever!" she yelled, her

t. A vessel. He let her scream. He let her project every ounce of her pain onto him.

llapsed onto the rug, burying her face in her

es. He approached her slowly, announcing his presence with heavy footsteps so he wo

his hand. The box skit

!" she c

placed it on the floor, slightly closer to he

s and snot. She glared at him with pure hatred, b

aren't you?" she spat. "You don't

er gaze. He

s. Lowe," he said. His voice was fl

bitter laugh that sounded like glass breaking

another drink. And stand there.

. He poured the wine. He calculated his ov