The Decoy: A Dangerous Game

Right now, my best friend is sweating through his designer shirt, begging me to save his ass.

On the eve of his engagement to a billionaire heiress, he hired a smokinghot escort for one last, wild bachelor joyride. Big mistake.

She secretly recorded every dirty, compromising thing he did—nudes, explicit videos, the works.

Now, that woman is bleeding him dry, threatening to leak it all and torch his spectacular, highsociety wedding to the ground. His brilliant plan?

He wants me to drop a fortune to hire the exact same escort. He’s begging me to seduce this blackmailer, to play the distraction and cover up his filthy little secret.

I stare at the glowing screen of my phone, my thumb hovering over the contact info of a woman who is a walking red flag. Do I really want to jump into this abyss?

Chapter 1 Spencer bragged to me that before marrying the billionaire heiress who would permanently upgrade his tax bracket, he was going to hire a toptier escort for a wild, strictly confidential road trip.

I thought he was just blowing hot air. I didn't expect him to actually go through with it.

He even had the nerve to ask if I wanted in, telling me to book my own escort and make it a double date. I told him to count me out.

I had actual work to do, and unlike him, I didn't have trust fund money to burn. So, he went solo. Right before hitting the road, he texted me a picture of his rented companion.

I had to admit, she was stunning. A total knockout with curves that could stop traffic. [Not bad.] [Right?

Took me forever to pick her out of the lineup.] [Did you send me this so I have a prime suspect when you inevitably go missing in the desert?] [Screw you, man.

I sent it to make you jealous.] [Aren't you worried your fiancée will find out?] [If she asks, you tell her we're on a bro trip together.] [Damn it, now I'm your alibi?] [That's what best friends are for.] The line went dead.

He hung up on me. Spencer took his escort out toward the remote canyon highways.

On day three, his fiancée texted me. [I didn't want to distract him while he's driving, so I'm asking you. Where are you guys at?] I gripped the phone tighter.

I quickly typed back: [You guessed it. We're on the road right now.] [Which route did you take? The desert canyon pass?] I remembered Spencer mentioning the canyon pass.

I hit reply: [Yeah, that's the one.] [How's the weather? The forecast mentioned potential dust storms.

Please be careful out there, and make sure the windows are sealed.] [If he gets tired, make him pull over. Don't rush it.] [Got it. Don't worry about a thing.] [I trust his driving.

I'm just worried you guys will party too hard and do something stupid. Thank you for keeping him company on his last bachelor trip.] [Anytime.] I tossed my phone onto the desk.

She was way too good for him. What Spencer was doing was straightup garbage. If she ever found out the truth, it would destroy her.

But for now, I had to play the loyal wingman and cover his tracks. After dealing with his fiancée, I shot Spencer a warning text. [Your future wife just checked in.

Told us to be careful with the dust storms and to enjoy the bachelor trip.

I covered your ass.] Two hours later, my screen lit up with his reply: [You're a lifesaver, bro.] He followed it up with a thumbsup emoji.

Over the next couple of days, Spencer spammed me with landscape photos. And of course, there were the "accidental" shots of his escort.

Her wardrobe seemed to change in every single frame. Cutoff denim shorts. Sundresses. Tight leather pants. Yoga pants. Heavy winter jackets.

I asked him why she was treating the trip like a damn fashion show. He claimed the temperature dropped like a rock out in the desert at night.

On the eighth day, Spencer called me. "We're heading to the airport. Flying back." "What about your SUV?" I asked. "Easy. I'm shipping it back. Only a couple grand.

Totally worth it." "Must be nice to burn cash like that." "Man, driving all the way back is just too exhausting.

I'm drained." "I'm guessing the driving isn't the only thing draining you." "It's strictly the driving, bro.

You know how it is." "You need me to pick you up from the airport?" "Nah. She's still with me." "We still have time on the clock.

I'm not going home yet." "Then where are you going?" "Heh. Take a wild guess." I didn't want to know. I hit the red button and ended the call.

Chapter 2 On the ninth night, Spencer called me. "Drinks.

The usual spot." I headed over to the upscale steakhouse near his penthouse and found him sitting at our regular corner booth. He was several shades tanner.

I slid into the leather seat across from him. "You’re roasted.

Think your fiancée’s even going to recognize you?" He casually blew out a ring of cigar smoke. "So what if she’s suspicious?

That woman only cares about the numbers in my bank account and my family name." "You're unbelievable," I muttered. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Zane.

You need to hit a tanning bed, stat." "Why the hell would I do that?" "We supposedly went on this road trip together. I'm baked to a crisp, and you're still pale as a ghost.

She's going to connect the dots." I stared at him. "You've got to be kidding me." "I'm dead serious. Spend the next few days baking by a pool." "Let me get this straight.

I don't even get to go on the joyride, but I have to suffer for it?" "Take one for the team, bro. We can't let her get suspicious." "Right.

Must've been one hell of a trip for you." "Oh, it was. Unfuckingbelievable." "I can tell." "Cleo knows exactly how to play the game.

She’s experienced, adventurous… we did everything you could possibly imagine out there." "Everything?" Spencer kicked my shin under the table. "Just do your part." "She knows her boundaries," he continued, taking a long drag. "Doesn't ask stupid questions, keeps her mouth shut.

I’m satisfied." "Great." "So, I've made up my mind. Time to head back to the estate and get ready for the wedding." "You don't exactly have a choice.

The date's coming up fast." "Yeah. I'm reigning it in. From here on out, I'm playing the devoted husband." "You better mean that," I warned him. "I do.

Look—scrubbed every single photo of Cleo from my phone. Even unsent the ones I texted you." He unlocked his phone, swiped through his gallery, and shoved the screen in my face.

Sure enough, there was nothing but desert landscapes and solo shots of his smug face. Just as I was pulling back, he tapped another photo. "Check this out." I looked closer.

It was a picture of the two of us, standing sidebyside in the middle of a desert canyon.

I’ve never been to that canyon. "How did you get this?" I asked, frowning. "Photoshop," he grinned. "Even added a tan to your face.

Looks flawless, right?" I honestly couldn't tell it was fake. "I'm sending this to her later.

Solidifies the alibi." "You're a sociopath." "Her family's trust funds and board seats are crucial to me.

This union cannot afford a single mistake." "So, this isn't exactly a love match, then?" He let out a harsh laugh. "In our circle, marriage is just the merger of two family trust funds.

Love? That’s just a PR spin for the gossip rags." I kept my mouth shut. It was brutal, but it was the reality of his world.

I’d seen him cycle through dozens of girlfriends over the years.

None of them ever stood a chance against a strategic merger. "That trip was my last taste of absolute freedom," he went on, staring into his scotch. "Once the ring is on her finger, she's going to have me on a tight leash.

No more wild nights. No more chances." "Haven't you had enough wild nights to last a lifetime?" "It's different. The last time always needs to be legendary.

Just like the first." I took a slow sip of my drink. "Did Cleo know you were getting married?" "No. Hell no. Like I said, she didn't ask questions.

I told her I was single and looking to blow off some steam." "How much did this little excursion cost you anyway?" "Didn't keep track. Under a hundred grand, probably.

Nothing major." We stayed at that booth until 2 A.M. He got trashed, rambling endlessly about every little detail of the trip. Which canyon had the best view.

Which roadside diner served the best steak. The night they parked by the lake to watch the stars. The night they hooked up in the back of the SUV.

Every word matched the fake timeline he’d sold me through those texts. I just sat there, listening, throwing out a nod every now and then as he drowned himself in his own vanity.

Chapter 3 After we settled the exorbitant tab and stumbled out into the cool night air, we took a leak against a brick wall in the alleyway behind the steakhouse. "Bro," Spencer slurred, adjusting his zipper. "This stays between us." "I know." "Don't let it slip when you see her." "Just don't out yourself when you're drunk." "I won't.

I'm flying back to the estate in two days to prep for the wedding." "About time." "Fly out three days early. I'll book your firstclass ticket.

You can come check out the family compound. You've never been." "Don't worry about it." "I'm not asking, Zane.

I'm handling it." He slapped my shoulder and stumbled off toward his penthouse. The wedding was exactly one week away. With five days left on the clock, Spencer flew out.

I drove him to the airport myself. I also handled the logistics of picking up his SUV from the auto transport company after it arrived from the desert.

After he went back, Spencer complained about drinking every single night with different childhood friends.

During the day, he was swamped micromanaging the wedding planners and coordinating the endless itinerary.

He whined that if he knew it would be this much of a headache, he would have just eloped. He said he was bleeding cash by the second.

He posted a selfie of him and his fiancée holding their marriage license on Instagram. That night, he posted the digital wedding invitation.

It listed the address of a fivestar luxury resort and the schedule. His contact number was attached at the bottom.

I hit the like button, watching the comments section flood with congratulations from our mutuals. Three days before the wedding, my flight touched down in his hometown.

I called him. He said he was swamped and couldn't pick me up. I told him not to sweat it, I'd just get an Uber.

He told me he’d already booked a block of rooms for the outoftown guests. "You're the first one here, man.

VIP treatment for my best man." He gave me the room number and told me to drop his name at the front desk. "It's all on my tab." I said fine.

I grabbed an Uber and checked into Room 8808 at the Hilton he’d booked. I had barely unpacked when my phone buzzed. It was Spencer.

He didn't even say hello. "She contacted me." "Who?" I asked. A heavy pause on the line. "The escort. Cleo." "What does she want?" "She's blackmailing me." "How much?" "Fifty grand.

To buy her silence." "Did you pay her?" "I did." "Why the hell would you pay her?" "I wasn't going to! I told her to go to hell." "And?" "And then she immediately texted me a photo.

Of myself. Buttnaked." "What?" "Fuck." "She recorded you?" "She must have planted a hidden camera." "Did you confront her?" "I did.

The crazy bitch said she just wanted a 'souvenir,' and that she has way better angles.

Said if I wanted to see the explicit videos, she’s got a whole damn gallery." "Jesus… she's got you by the throat." "Yeah." "Call the cops, man." "Are you insane?

The wedding is days away! If I call the cops, my family finds out.

My fiancée finds out… the merger, the wedding, my entire life goes up in smoke." "And she knows exactly how much you have to lose." "Exactly.

She waited until I had a gun to my head to pull the trigger." Chapter 4 "How the hell does she know you're getting married?" "I posted the marriage license and the wedding venue on my feed, didn't I?

She liked the posts." "Wait, you didn't block her from your stories?" "No. My fiancée was hovering right over my shoulder watching me post it.

I couldn't exactly single Cleo out to block her right then and there." "Why didn't you just delete her contact after the trip?" "I forgot." "Did you forget, or were you keeping her on standby for round two?" "I thought she knew how to play the game." "Right.

And you actually bought that. Well, you already paid her off.

What are you sweating for?" "I'm terrified she's going to crash the wedding and blow the whole thing up." "She's out for blood and cash.

I wouldn't put it past her." "She's breaking all the rules.

I treated her like royalty the entire trip, even tipped her an extra two grand before she left." I stayed quiet. "I need to find a way to neutralize her.

She's a ticking time bomb." "What's the play, then?" "You need to think of something for me. I gotta get back.

My fiancée is at the venue tearing the floral arrangements apart, and I sneaked out just to call you." "Get back there." "Figure something out, Zane.

I'll come by your room tonight." "Fine." Night fell, and I still came up empty. Spencer barged into my hotel room around nine.

He paced the floor like a caged animal. "Tell me you have a plan." "I've been racking my brain," I said, "but there's one thing." "What is it