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.
Her hand trembled around the mug.
Lifting my arm, I raised my glass. “Shall we toast to your success?”
Skylar’s lips thinned before she gave me a stiff nod.
“In the words of the dramatist John Ford, ‘revenge proves its own executioner,’” I said, watching how my calculated words hit Skylar before taking a sip of my drink.
Her hand shook so violently she had to wrap a second hand around the mug before it dropped. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Say what? Oh! You’re right. Wrong quote. What’s a better one?” I tapped my finger against my lips, pretending it was an innocent mistake. “What is that one by Confucius? ‘If seeking revenge, dig two graves, one for yourself’?”
She gasped.
I held up my hand. “Wait. Wait. No, that’s not it.”
She slammed the mug down. “Stop it.”
When I was younger, I liked to torment the hunting dogs by tying pieces of raw meat to their throats and watching them fight until they were covered in blood.
This was more fun.
It only took two steps to cut off her direct path to the door; another two, and I was in front of her.
She looked up at me, spine locked, but the whites of her eyes gave her away.
She took two steps backward, but I was too quick.
I struck out, my fingers twisting into her hair at the base of her scalp. “I warned you about talking back to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
My breath brushed against her as my other hand grazed her cheek. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
She rose on her toes to try and ease my grip as her palms pressed against my chest. “Please, Jameson. Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
I loved it when she begged.
I reached for the mug and lifted it to her lips. “Drink.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Please…don’t make me.”
I pressed the rim of the mug against her cheek, pushing the porcelain against her flesh. “Pierce is not dead.”
Her fingernails clawed against my chest as she pushed backward. “What are you talking about?”
“The drug will put him in a coma, not kill him.”
Her body jerked as her lower lip trembled. “But you told me…”
“I know.”
“You let me believe I…”
I stared at those perfect red lips and wanted to smear the lipstick across her cheek. “Did you for a moment think I would trust a backstabbing little whore like you with my real plans?”
“You bastard.”
I rolled the mug over her lips until the porcelain clinked against her teeth. With a yank on her hair, I wrenched her head back as I tipped the mug. Liquid dribbled over her lips as she coughed and sputtered. “Drink.”
“No!”
At her exclamation, I tilted the mug and poured the contents down her throat.
She broke free and doubled over, retching.
I turned away and poured myself more vodka. Leaning a hip against the counter, I regarded her with the detached interest of a spider watching a fly struggle for its life within the sticky confines of its web.
She crashed to the floor, grabbing at her throat. Coughing and crying. “You bastard! You bastard!”
I strode over to her prone form and pulled her hair, forcing her to arch her back and face me. I tapped her forehead with the tip of my finger. “Stupid whore. I’m not a bastard. That is what this is all about.”
I released her hair and stood over her, legs wide. “Get up.”
She sniffed. “Fuck you.”
I kicked her in the ribs. She fell against the wall and rolled onto her side.
“I said get up.”
Pushing up on her palms, she slid along the wall as she slowly rose.
I placed a hand over her head and leaned in. “Good girl. Now, as I said, the drug you gave him will put him in a coma. When it hits the news, you will rush to the hospital and play the grieving fiancée. Understood?”
She swiped a hand over her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak.
“What?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “Nothing.”
“Is there something I should know?”
Her eyebrows rose. “No.”
“Skylar?”
“There is nothing.”
Of course there was nothing. She was stupid but not stupid enough to lie to me. She knew the consequences of that.
I continued. “You’ll say the two of you reconciled in secret and he proposed. Unfortunately, you then fought and broke off the engagement. In his despair, he tried to kill himself.”
“Pierce would never—”
“He’ll be in no position to object.”
The plan was simple. The easiest way to lose a body was in a morgue. The same paramedics who I blackmailed to switch out my body after the crash with a cadaver will helpfully cart Pierce’s dead body away after I kill him and take his place.
I would then miraculously come out of my coma and leave for Europe for a year to recover. When I returned to Cliffs End, any slight difference in appearance or demeanor would be blamed on the long absence.
For now, I needed confirmation that the first part of my plan was in place. “Has our man called to confirm the staff have found Pierce unconscious?”
“No. Not yet.”
“He better fucking call.”
“He’ll call.”
I reached for my belt buckle. “In the meantime, you might as well make yourself useful. On your knees.”
She curled her shoulders forward as she swiped the back of her hand over her lips, smearing her lipstick…before slowly lowering to her knees.