Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“What are you suggesting?” Grave saved. “You deliver the poison?”
“At the very least, I could distract him. I bump into him, get some wine on my chest, and then he’ll stare right at my tits for at least five seconds. It’s pretty thin material. I take off to the bathroom, and then Cauldron hands the new glass to the waiter and asks him to deliver it. Your faces will never be seen.”
Grave seemed to find merit in the plan because he looked at me for approval.
“No.”
Camille finally looked at me head on. “Why not—”
“Because this is our problem. Not yours.”
“Your well-being is my problem, both of you,” she snapped. “Now, let me help.”
“You aren’t putting yourself at risk—”
“She’s just spilling wine on herself,” Grave said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” I asked coldly, looking at my brother instead.
“It’s definitely less conspicuous than me causing a diversion on the other side of the room. It’s less conspicuous than letting anyone see you near him, especially when he drops dead a few hours later. Even if anyone does suspect Camille, no one knows who the hell she is.”
Camille shifted her gaze back and forth between us, listening to us argue.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
“I’ll be fine.” Camille looked at me with those green eyes, reminding me of a different time, a different reality.
“I think it’s a good plan,” Grave said. “Now let’s do this so we can leave. I have a hot date tonight.”
“Does Elise know you’re doing this?” Camille asked.
“No,” he said sternly. “Like I’d tell her, when she’s obsessed with me…”
We all looked at each other for a while before we got moving. Grave stayed behind so he could watch from a distance. I went to the bar, ordered a glass of wine, and then stepped into the hallway to add just enough drops so that the taste would go unnoticed. Mixing it with alcohol would make it more potent, so he would probably collapse much quicker than the typical four hours.
I got into position and waited.
From across the room, Camille gave me a nod in question.
I gave her a nod back to confirm.
Like a pro, she crossed the room and pretended to see someone she knew. She raised her hand, gave a big hello, and so distracted, she ran right into Roan just as he turned around. The glass hit her square in the chest and splashed all over her. The glass toppled out of his hand and onto the floor, where it shattered into pieces. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” Her hands immediately felt for her chest, soaked in the white wine. As she suspected, the liquid made the material sheer, and without a bra underneath, her tits were easy to see, even from where I stood.
I made my move and asked the waiter to bring him another glass.
He immediately obeyed, like he didn’t pay enough attention to know I was a guest and not another waiter. The waiter came over and handed him a new glass, while other staff members came to clean up the mess.
Camille was long gone—and Roan moved with his group to another part of the room to continue their conversation.
It was done.
I dropped off Grave first then headed to Camille’s apartment afterward.
She was in the back seat, like I was a taxi driver and she was a passenger. It was a quiet ride home. She still wore my jacket, the front of her chest concealed from view. I pulled up to the curb then killed the engine.
She lingered in the back. “Thanks for the ride.”
I looked at her face in the rearview mirror. “Thanks for the help.”
“Sure thing.” She got out then walked to the front door.
I followed her.
She got the key in the door then turned to me, blocking the entrance. “What are you doing?” And just like that, we were back to where we were before. She loathed me with every fiber of her being, and I groveled in silence.
“So, that’s it, huh? We were allies for an hour, and now it’s back to pretending I don’t exist?”
“Yep.” She walked inside and shut the door in my face.
I stood on the threshold, the air cold in my lungs, the concrete having tiny flecks of shiny minerals under the streetlight. I stared at a spot next to my shoe before I turned the handle and welcomed myself inside.
She wasn’t in the living room. Must have gone upstairs to take off her wet gown.
I took a seat in the armchair in the living room, one ankle propped on the opposite knee, looking at the fire that had burned out recently. The coals still glowed red, like she’d left the fire unattended to help us.
Minutes later, she came downstairs, dressed in gray sweatpants that were far too big for her and a long-sleeved shirt. She had no bra underneath because I could see her nipples press hard against the material.