Bitter Truth

Even before my hand fell on the knob, muffled sound of moans emanated from the room.

My stomach churned again.

This was true, Devon was indeed cheating on me.

I pushed the door open and let myself in. Scattered clothes trailed down to the floor. Devon's familiar frame was between two white-creamed legs entangled around his waist.

He was barechested kissing the nape of her neck while her hands tugged the band of his trousers.

My heart scattered into tiny pieces as the scene played on before me.

All the words he said to me, all the promises he'd confessed.....

"Devon?" My voice was heavy.

They obviously haven't noticed my entrance, nor the opening of the door.

The two sprang apart, caught in a pot of love - with wide eyes. Evidently they were shook to their bones while the brunette scrambled to cover her almost naked body with the duvet cover.

"What the hell?" Devon was the first to find his voice.

He stared at me in transfix then back at the door.

"How did you get in?" He asked, clambering out from the bed towards me.

"You know her? Who the hell is she?" The brunette put in, raking her eyes between Devon and I.

"So, this is where you submit proposals?" I laughed sarcastically.

"Indie?" He called, shoving a hand through his tussled hair.

The once familiar name sounded jarring to me.

"What...I don't understand..wh..what are you doing here?" He shuttered.

"What am I doing here? Should that be a question for me?" My body was visibly racked.

Devon's hand brushed his face, certainly he was trying to sprout more lies.

"Devon, who's she?" The brunette rolled from the bed, dragging the bed cover alongside her as she shielded her body.

"You know the girl I told you about - the one forcing herself on me?" He gestured, tilting his gaze to her.

Oh, wow.

They did talked about me?

"Forcing myself on you," I gasped, unable to believe. "So, I supposed she's just one of your damn flings."

Devon shoved my chest roughly. "Back off, Indie! You don't get to speak to her like that."

That felt like a slap to my face, I staggared - fighting desperately for balance.

"Want to know who she is? She's the one who matters. You were just a fleeting distraction trying to get close to me. Despite your polished appearance, you're not as refined as you seem. You're just a facade, probably why you're working in a strip club. I was lonely when we met, and you fit the bill as a temporary diversion."

I froze, stunned by his words. 'Just some girl?' I echoed, disbelieving.

"You think I missed that? You were trying to set me up for a better future. I overheard you discussing it with your sister. I had to play along. You think I wouldn't notice your late-night visits to a certain strip club?"

A strip club?

That was definitely where Mariana worked while in Florida, she worked as a waitress and I almost go there whenever Devon and I were done for the day.

I just didn't want him to know that I was training to become an assassin.

Mariana had quit her job after her boss's increasingly inappropriate requests crossed a line.

Desperate for answers, Devon must have began tracking me down, and his sleuthing led him to a humiliating conclusion. He thought I worked as a stripper.

"That's behind me now," I vowed.

With a swift motion, I pulled out my gun, directing it at them. They backed away, their eyes stretched out like canvas.

The duvet slid from her hand, revealing her padded bra and lacy white panties.

Their mouths gaped at the sight of the gun. While the brunette scrabbled for cover at Devon's back.

"You were saying?" My brows arched high.

"Indie, now that must be a toy gun, isn't it?" He eyed me.

At first, Devon had thought I was probably holding a toy gun, he tried to reach out and grab me but I slapped the gun across his left cheek.

The colour of his face paled as a trickle of blood surged out from one of his nostrils as he held onto his face.

"Will you stop shoving me forward?" Devon snapped at the woman behind him, then tried a tired smile once he looked my way, "Indie, it didn't have to be like this....." he pleaded.

The brunette wasn't pissed that he had been two-timing us both. She was okay being cheated on, atleast she was the chosen.

"Do something, Devon,"' she whispered.

"Just. Be. Quiet," Devon huffed with mean eyes at her - holding a hand to his bleeding nose.

"If you do anything crazy, I will pull the trigger." I cautioned.

"You really aren't going to shoot, Indie." He forced the words from his mouth.

"Try me," I said with clenched teeth.

The brunette behind him whimpered, stomping her feet on the ground while clamming a hand over her mouth.

It wouldn't take me anything to pull the trigger, I innately knew that.

As if reading my mind, he said, "What happens when you pull the trigger, and leave this room? You know my father, he will hunt you down." His brows furrowed as he explained.

The words danced in my head. He was right. Devon was the son of one of the famous senators in all of Los Angeles, and that could very well happen. And I had met his father - only just once - and I knew what his father was made of.

What was I thinking?

That I could kill him because he broke my heart?

This plan was stupid in the first place. I had acted in a moment of fury.

My eyes did a discreet roll while I was tucked away in the camera's dead zone.

What the hell was I thinking?

Didn't I know the implications of applying emotions to every action?

DING DONG.

"Shit!" My eyes skated to the door, and that of Devon.

It looked like he would shit in his robe.

"Devon, do something," his lover tugged.

Devon tore her another one of his gnarls.

DING DONG.

It sounded again and silence stretched among us. My mind went blank, the fear reeled me into almost pulling the trigger. Their bulged eyes and the shrilling ring of the phone on the bed jarred my senses.

"That phone belongs to who exactly?" The tone of my voice jerked the woman.

"Me," she croaked with a shaky voice.

"Go take it and move to the door!" I ordered.

She did exactly that with shaky steps and teary eyes. I stepped behind the opened door - throwing a glance through the peephole.

A older man in a dark suit who was probably in his early thirties stood there with curled fists. His eyes bulged when his gaze swept the almost naked body of the brunette.

"Isabella?" He called out, holding his phone away from his ear.

The ring from her phone suddenly halted.

So, that was her name.

The fear in her eyes evidently outshone the threat poised by my gun.

She knew the man standing before her. He must evoke so much power.

"Tyler, it's not what it looks like," her voice broke.

"Wayne told me you left the hall for this place - thought it was all a lie..." a scoff escaped him.

He strolled in, and that was when I took my cue. With one last look at Devon, I pocketed the gun into my jacket and took a step forward while my shoulder brushed against the man walking into the room.

From the corner of my eyes, I noted his cocked brows at my passing figure.

He struck me like someone recognizable but my legs quickened, trudging through the corridor before arriving in the elevator.

*****

I refused to cry when I arrived home but when I stuck in the shower, under the raining waters - Devon's words came at me like a hand to my neck.

Alas, I couldn't hold it in much further. I let the tears fall, washing all the memories of yesteryears.

I would forgive myself and also forgive my folly. But, my father must never find out that I had been in a secret relationship.

The following days were painfully slow, and it didn't feel like I had returned home from school.

I had just barely walked in when dad strode through the door of the parlor.

"Tell me, where have you been?" Dad towered over me when my buttocks landed on the soft cushions.

"Dad," I whined, "can't a girl have her privacy?" I put in with a laugh.

Dad was a sturdy man of attractive features: dark eyes, squared chin and 6ft7 tall. He had been my die-hard fan ever since I lost my biological father at twenty.

He was my father's younger brother, a man who loved me after my very own father, my mentor and my foster father.

"What are these?" He scattered pictures of Devon across the table, several of them had me going into Angel's hotel.

"You've been spying on me?"

"Do you know how stupid your reckless act was? I had someone who is working at the hotel - he was able to send me these pictures of you. You were trying to kill Devon without a mask on - do you stupidly know how reckless that was!"

My breath clenched in my throat. "Dad, I was just..just momentarily shaken," I spluttered, trying to shuffle through my thoughts.

"Shaken?" Hands akimbo, he calmed for a moment. "Now, who's Devon to you?"

Silence.

Yet, I could feel my heart beating loudly. The truth about Devon was finally coming loose - I just haven't realized the magnitude tide of my splintering alluding fury.

I knew I had betrayed his trust but the truth was going to come out someday - nevertheless.

"He was my boyfriend," I replied, looking up at him.

He stood still, shaken to the marrow. Then like a joke, his voice rippled out a devilish laughter.

"Was? for how long?" He put in.

"Three years."

He laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are 24 years old and you do not act like the professional trained assassin that you are. How then will you be able to handle Tyler Skyler? Have you forgotten that you're supposed to be his secretary in our supposed revenge-plan and no one should know who you are?"