Filthy Liar

Five years ago, Jason Evans thought I was a young woman named Ellie who needed a break, and he gave me a job as a receptionist at his crisis management firm in Washington, D.C. And then, for one hot summer, I was his Ellie, too. Our private secret.

But I'm not his Ellie. I never was.

She doesn't exist, and if Jason starts digging into Melinda Gray the journalist, that won't end well for me, either. But now that some of our cards are on the table, maybe I can use him one last time. For the greater good.