Page 91 of My Sweet Poison
Taking a few steps closer to the bed, I reached out and stroked her cheek with the backs of my knuckles. Despite the warmth of the room, her face was chilled by her tears, now flowing freely.
“What I need you to understand,” I continued, “is that as soon as I met you, my revenge plan changed. I am now doing this to protect you. On my honor you will be safe, but only once you take my name.”
Her eyes went from begging, to confusion, to dawning horror as the truth of my demand sank in.
“It is the only guarantee of your safety,” I added softly.
It wasn’t a proposal. A proposal implied a question was being asked.
Still, she remained silent, allowing the tension to build until it was almost unbearable.
She blinked back the tears and sniffed before speaking.
“No.”
CHAPTER 44
GREYSON
Hailey’s usually radiant face was unusually still and lifeless.
I leaned back and nodded to the captain's inquiry. Ready for takeoff.
He was paid well to be ready at a moment's notice and to mind his own business.
The cabin hummed around us. Black crocodile leather. Silver-embroidered monograms. Deep mahogany paneling that absorbed the light.
The trappings of my obscene wealth.
I had already checked her breathing and pulse several times to assure myself I hadn’t taken things too far. I’d brought it to the line, but her breath was steady and her eyes clear. She’d wake up soon enough.
I took a seat next to hers and brought out my phone.
There were several messages from Jameson, all escalating threats.
Jameson: Where the fuck are you?
Jameson: Skylar told me about your new pet. She’d better be dead. The last thing I need is one of Madison’s friends running their mouth.
Jameson: I swear to god, if you haven’t put her down, I’ll bury you with Pierce. Hell, I’ll throw Skylar in the same fucking grave so you two can fight over that whore for all eternity.
Fuck Jameson. Fuck Skylar. And fuck me for ever being tempted by her in the first place.
Jameson was expecting an answer.
Fuck him.
Finally, Hailey stirred.
She flinched, sitting up with visible difficulty. Her dark, beautiful eyes widened as they adjusted to the dim interior and took in her surroundings.
“Welcome aboard,” I murmured, allowing my gaze to linger on her.
“Where am I?”
I reached for the bottle of chilled Krug Clos d’Ambonnaychampagne and poured us both a glass without answering her.
“What did you do, Greyson?” she spat, every word etched with venom.
