Page 102 of My Sweet Poison
In a horrible flash, I realized I didn’t want him to die.
With a scream, I raced across the room and fell to my knees. “Pierce!”
CHAPTER 49
JAMESON
The car door swung open. Skylar stepped out, her heels wobbling on the first step.
A crack in her perfectly coiffed mask of polished indifference. Hands shaking, she tried to open the umbrella, eyes darting around. Tears cascaded down her face, ruining her makeup.
Two options. She’d botched it and knew what was coming, or she’d done exactly what I told her and the weight of it was cracking her open. Either way, the shelf life on Skylar had just gotten shorter.
She ran her French-tipped fingers under her eyes, fixing her mascara.
She slowly scanned every grubby windowpane. I knew she could feel my stare. Good. I wanted her to know I was watching…that I was always watching.
I turned away from the window and gulped the rest of my drink as I waited for her to reach my floor. It was almost over. The wait. The offensive, disgusting wait. Soon, what was rightfully mine would be within my grasp.
I tilted my glass and stared at the empty bottom before reaching for the vodka bottle. Fuck Pierce.
Before her knuckles could even touch the door, I swung it open.
Moving aside, I gestured for her to come in. She stepped past me, and I made a little half step toward her, making her shrink even further into herself.
Slamming the door shut, I pressed her against it. “Did you do it?”
She met my eyes, chin lifted. “Yes, it’s done and fuck you for asking it of me.”
My hand wrapped around her throat. The intense, rapid beat of her heart pulsed against my fingers as I growled, “Don’t forget your place. You do not get to speak to me like that. Now apologize.”
Her throat contracted.
I tightened my grip, making sure she remembered exactly who was in charge.
“I’m sorry, Jameson,” she rasped, casting her eyes down to the floor and hunching her shoulders to make herself seem smaller.
I leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“That’s better. You know all of this goes so much easier for you when you’re a good girl. Don’t make me remind you what happens when you’re not,” I warned as I released her and turned to walk deeper into the apartment.
Kicking aside a pile of dirty laundry and ignoring the overflowing garbage, I splashed vodka into a relatively clean mug and handed it to her. “Drink.”
I then topped off my own and leaned against the laminate counter. “Tell me all the details.”
She stared into her mug for a moment before setting it aside and crossing her arms over her middle. “I put the poison in the brandy. He drank it. I waited until he slumped over. And that was it.”
I chuckled, the taste of victory sweet on my tongue. “Finally, you do something right.”
She said nothing, but color still bloomed on her cheeks. The flush looked good on her. Made her look human. Breakable.
“Pick up your drink so we can toast and celebrate.”
She stretched out her arm but hesitated before picking up the mug. She glanced down at the liquid in her cup, back at me, and back to her mug. I could practically hear the wheels squeak from disuse as they turned in her head. “What’s the matter, darling? Don’t you trust me?”
Her wide eyes stared at me, unblinking. Finally, she gave a sharp shake of her head and forced a smile. “Of course I do, darling.”
Good girl.
