Page 57 of My Sweet Poison
Ipulled the car visor down and checked my reflection.
Reaching into my crocodile skin Birkin bag, I snatched up my Chanel Carmen red lipstick and reapplied. I pressed my lips together and ran the tip of my pinkie finger under my full bottom lip to clean up the line. I then applied some pressed powder to my nose and upper cheeks, so my complexion looked smooth and matte.
Perfection was the only weapon I had.
It was how I showed my status, my power and privilege. People said women like me didn’t work. They were wrong. This was my job, and it was how I was supposed to become the next Mrs. Worthington.
One way or another, I was taking back what was mine.
I reached for my cordless curler and turned it on. After freshening up my hair, I used a comb to tease some volume before securing a large section up and back.
Honestly, what did Pierce see in that mousy little townie when he could have someone like me?
His attraction to her was an insult. The way he stared at the back of her head during the courtroom proceedings today was embarrassing. His obsession with seeing Madison behind barshad shifted into something physical. Almost something out of control which was startlingly out of character for him. I should know. He’d never stared at me that way. Damn him.
I continued to study my reflection. No, it didn’t make sense. Clearly, he was suffering from some sort of delusion.
Whatever the reason, he definitely wasn’t thinking about avenging his brother’s death anymore.
He was too busy playing with his little toy.
And that was a big problem for us.
Turning off the car, I paused with my hand on the door handle. The unadorned building on the outskirts of town was mostly dark with no welcoming, warm light streaming through its hazy windows.
Between me and the building were countless potholes filled with muddy water, and no doorman. This day just kept getting better and better. With a resigned sigh, I grabbed my bag and held it over my head as I exited the car. The downpour would probably ruin the expensive purse, but what did I care?
It wasn’t my money I was wasting. I’d just pout my lips, let a fake tear or two slide down my face, and I’d get it replaced. The hardware on this one was scratched anyway.
I had parked too far from the curb. My first step was straight into a deep puddle. Of course. The disgusting water sloshed over my Manolo Blahniks. “Dammit to hell!”
I lowered my Birkin and swung the graffiti-marred steel door open.
The scent in the lobby hit me like a wall, stale soda mixed with piss, vomit, and death. My eyes watered and I pressed my wrist to my nose, the Chanel No. 5 blocking the worst of the assault.
Bits of paper were scattered everywhere—faded circulars, coupons, old bills. No art on the walls except for a single picture of a scruffy clown juggling flowers, wearing an ill-fitting smile.The carpet was threadbare, scuffed by thousands of feet in cheap rubber shoes, all of it drowning under a pool of fluorescent overhead lights.
No concierge greeted me. Not even a minimum wage security guard.
Just a dingy wall with a suspect-looking elevator.
I pulled a tissue from my purse and used it to press the “Up” button.
There was no fucking way I was walking up eight flights of stairs in these heels. I might actually break a sweat, or worse, scuff a shoe, and that simply would not do.
Using the tissue to select the eighth floor, I held it under my nose as the elevator shuddered and sprang to life. I didn’t have to worry about it stopping on a lower floor. The residents had been forced out several months ago…as a precaution.
The elevator shuddered to a stop. I exited and walked down the dimly lit hall until I reached the last door on the right. Using the large gold band ring on my right hand, I knocked. At the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, I threw back my shoulders and pushed my ample chest up, showing off my black-lace-covered cleavage. The door swung open.
“Hello, darl?—”
I was thrown to the floor by a hard slap across the face.
CHAPTER 27
ELIJAH TOMPKINS - BUTLER
The piercing telephone ring broke the stately calm of the gloomy early evening.
