Chapter Four: She Knows What I Taste Like
1287 Words
Her voice is the kind that ruins marriages.
Low. Lethal. Calm even when she’s cutting.
And it slides into the lounge like smoke under the door.
“Hi, baby,” she says.
John stiffens instantly. Stacy doesn’t need to turn to know who it is.
She felt Selene before she even heard her.
That chill that dances down her spine. That very particular ache behind her ribs.
Because Selene is the only woman who’s ever managed to hurt her without even touching her.
And right now?
She’s here, in John Maddox’s private lounge.
The same John Maddox Stacy was grinding on less than five minutes ago.
The same John Maddox whose fingers had been buried beneath her dress.
⸻
Stacy turns slowly, glass still in hand, body composed like marble.
“Selene,” she says with cool grace. “You weren’t invited.”
“Neither were you,” Selene snaps.
And just like that, the air sharpens.
John steps between them instinctively, like one wrong breath will turn this room into a m******e. “Someone wanna tell me what’s going on?”
Selene smiles at him tight, fake, predatory.
“Oh, Johnny,” she says sweetly, “you didn’t know?”
He narrows his eyes.
“I’m the one she’s been f**king while you were out buying senators and silencing scandals.”
Stacy exhales slowly. “Selene”
“No,” Selene interrupts, stepping closer. “Let’s be honest. You didn’t tell him because you wanted me to show up. You wanted him to see what he broke, and who put the pieces back together.”
“I didn’t invite you,” Stacy says, voice like smoke.
“No,” Selene agrees. “You summoned me.”
⸻
John watches them like they’re wild animals ready to pounce.
“You two are what? Lovers?”
Selene’s laugh is low and dangerous. “We’re past lovers. We’re confessions, secrets, safewords. We’re what happens when your love burns a girl so bad she can’t even scream anymore.”
She leans in toward Stacy, close enough to touch.
“You remember Paris?” she murmurs.
Stacy doesn’t answer.
But her eyes flicker.
Selene smirks. “I do. I remember how you whispered his name while you were shaking under my tongue.”
John flinches.
Stacy swallows hard.
Selene shrugs. “Don’t worry, I recorded it.”
“What?” John’s voice is sharp now.
Selene pulls out her phone, taps it once. A video loads. She holds it up facing Stacy, not him.
The volume is low, but unmistakable.
A blindfolded Stacy. Panting. Moaning.
John’s name, over and over again.
Selene looks almost smug. “She came so hard I thought the neighbors would call the police. Begging for you with my hand around her throat.”
John tears the phone from her hand and shuts it off. “Why do you have this?”
“Because I don’t trust anyone,” Selene says coolly. “Especially her.”
⸻
Stacy’s voice is steady, but under the surface it trembles. “That video was never meant to leave the room.”
“Then maybe you should’ve kept me in the dark about your little reunion with the man who broke you into dust.”
“Don’t pretend this is about trust,” Stacy snaps. “You’re jealous.”
Selene’s expression shifts. “You’re damn right I am.”
They stare at each other one heartbeat, two, three until the silence is so thick it could crack glass.
John finally speaks. “So what now? You came to warn me or humiliate her?”
“I came,” Selene says, tone flattening, “because someone sent me a video, too.”
⸻
Everything stills.
Stacy’s heart skips.
John’s voice is ice. “What kind of video?”
Selene looks at Stacy.
Only at Stacy.
“Of the two of you,” she says softly. “From before she disappeared.”
John frowns. “We never recorded anything”
“No. You didn’t,” Selene confirms. “But someone else did.”
⸻
The blood drains from Stacy’s face.
She backs up a step, knocking into the edge of the bar. Her hand shakes, and she sets her glass down before it slips entirely.
“That’s not possible,” she says.
“It was shot through a hotel mirror,” Selene tells her. “You can’t see the camera. But you can hear everything.”
Stacy whispers, “What does it show?”
Selene’s jaw tightens. “You. On your knees. Crying. Telling him you’d do anything to make him stay.”
John blinks, shocked. “I don’t remember that.”
“You wouldn’t,” Selene says, eyes narrowing. “Your voice was slurred. Hers was desperate. I don’t know what happened before that, but whoever recorded it… they knew what they were doing.”
“Who sent it?” Stacy asks, voice barely audible.
Selene shrugs. “The number was blocked. Just a message attached: She belongs to no one. Yet.”
⸻
The silence that follows is suffocating.
John runs a hand through his hair, pacing now.
“Where is it?” he demands. “That video?”
Selene pulls her phone back. “Gone. Deleted. For now.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t give a f**k what you believe,” Selene snaps. “I’m not the one with a PR nightmare waiting to explode. When this hits the media because it will you’ll be the one they crucify.”
John spins to Stacy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know,” she says. “Selene… I swear to God, I didn’t”
“Don’t swear to me,” Selene says quietly. “You don’t get to lie and promise in the same breath.”
⸻
John’s phone buzzes on the table.
A text.
He picks it up. Reads it.
His face goes pale.
“What is it?” Stacy asks.
He turns the phone to face her.
A paused video.
Still shot: her lips parted. Her eyes red. Her blouse half-off.
Caption:
“Coming soon: Maddox’s favorite toy, broken on film.”
Stacy’s breath catches. “They’re leaking it.”
“Looks like it,” Selene murmurs.
And then another text flashes on Stacy’s screen.
Unknown number.
You never should’ve come back.
⸻
For the first time in weeks, she feels it.
Fear.
Not panic. Not adrenaline.
Actual fear.
Because whoever is doing this…
They know everything.
And they’re not just watching.
They’re playing.
⸻
“You need to leave,” John says suddenly.
Selene scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“This is going to explode. I don’t need you both here when the cops start asking questions about the videos.”
Selene glares at him. “You don’t get to order me around.”
Stacy steps between them. “Enough.”
They both stop.
She turns to Selene.
“I need you to trust me.”
“I did,” Selene says. “And you used me.”
Stacy’s voice breaks. “I didn’t mean to.”
Selene walks to the door.
“Yeah,” she says. “But you did.”
And then she’s gone.
⸻
John and Stacy are alone again.
But the room feels haunted.
“You’re in danger,” he says quietly.
“So are you.”
“I can handle it.”
She stares at him. “No, John. You can’t.”
“Then tell me who this is. Who’s doing this to you?”
She hesitates.
Because in her bones, she knows:
This isn’t just someone targeting her.
It’s someone who used to love her.
And now wants her owned or destroyed.
- Writer
