Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

and his hands were bound behind his back.
    The man untied the fat man’s wrists and pushed him on his back.
    "Call 9-1-1!" he said frantically.
    I was having a proper panic attack. I grabbed the phone next to the bed and dialed 9-1-1. The phone made a noise and a person answered, "Front desk?"
    I shook my head, "I need 9-1-1. My…uhm…boyfriend. He's had an attack. We were playing around and he got sick. Hurry. Please hurry." I covered my eyes and hung up the phone.
    I grabbed the fat man's hand and sobbed fake cries. I didn’t have any tears. I should have had some, but apparently, I couldn’t cry when I was being the person they needed me to be.
    My panic attack was authentic by the time the ambulance arrived. I was hugging myself and pacing.
    The man from the hallway, who had come to help, wrapped an arm around me as they attached the fat man to the stretcher.
    "Had you been dating long?" he asked.
    I shook my head, "We just started."
    He squeezed, "You wanna come back to my room and I'll get you a drink?"
    I glanced up at him and smiled, not that it mattered. His eyes were focused on my chest.
    "No thanks. I just want to go home."
    The man in a dress shirt and slacks eyed me up. I had already given him my statement. "It's a heart attack they figure, so you're free to go." I nodded and hugged my arms around myself. I picked up my purse and the glass I drank from. I poured one more shot of scotch and drank it back. I carried it from the room.
    The dark-red Wanda, with a heart, on the mirror made me sick, as I made my way to the elevator.
    I didn’t know the room he was staying in, but I sort assumed it would be the presidential suite. I also sort of assumed, that he would expect me to find him.
    I stepped in past the bellhop. I hadn’t recalled there being one before.
    "Presidential suite, please," I muttered like I was stricken with trauma.
    He tapped the cell phone in his belt, like it was to the beat of a cheesy Celine Dion song. I looked over at him and smiled when I saw it was Luce. She honestly looked like a guy, in a bellhop's uniform.
    I glanced at the screen of the cell phone and read the sideways message, making a smirk cross my lips. I hugged myself tighter, as she started to get a head bob to the music. She dropped her hat on the floor. I bent to pick it up, palming the powder she dropped in the tiny packet. She smiled when I passed the hat to her.
    I stepped off the elevator, ignoring her completely, and made my way to the door. I knocked, holding my clutch and the packet in the same hand.
    Servario answered and smiled bitterly, "That was a show and a half." He stepped back to let me in and shook his head, "I should have guessed you would find a way to ensure that it was a legit kill."
    I shook my head, "I don’t know what you mean. It was horrible, the way he had a massive heart attack like that."
    I entered the room, opening my clutch and passing him the lipstick back and slipping the packet in.
    "This is yours," I said softly.
    His eyes were burning, "You disappointed me in so many ways."
    I felt fear creeping up inside of me, when I glanced at his twitching hands. I had learned to take a hit in training but I really didn’t want to take one.
    He grabbed me and ran his hand up into my hair. He pulled back slightly, tilting my head and exposing my throat, "You let him touch you," he whispered into my cheek and tugged hard on my hair. I sucked a breath in, trying not to wince.
    He smiled pleasantly, "I told you, this is mine." He reached down and brushed his fingers along the center of my underwear.
    I shook my head slightly, "He didn’t touch that."
    His eyes flashed, "You let him have an experience with you, that I have not."
    My ass started to hurt, just imagining the things he was going to do to it. I needed the powdered belladonna packet in my purse. I needed him to pass out. He towered over me, almost putting me on my tiptoes in the six-inch heels. My fingers dug into his thick chest.
    "I really want a shower," I said softly. It was true. I did.
    He looked me over, "You're lucky. You have another job to do in a couple days. I need you rested."
    I felt the relief creeping through me, trying not to be obvious. He released me and scowled, "Go wash his hands off of you," he muttered and turned away.
    I staggered, feeling the breakdown coming on as I walked into the bathroom, slipping the belladonna from my purse. When I got into the massive bathroom, I leaned against the counter, slipping