Pretty Sinner (The Oligarchs) - Page 52

“You’re beautiful. Hilarious. Kind. You deserve better than all this.”

She sat down, forcing a smile, eyes fluttering. “Keep going. I don’t think I’m suitably flattered yet.”

“You have impeccable style and taste. You’re selfless and weirdly good at math.” I stood up and walked toward her bed.

She sucked in a few deep breaths and shook her head. “Man, okay, I feel weird. Why do I feel weird? Am I talking weird?”

“You should lie down.”

She looked up then. “Why?”

“Because the sedative I put in your water bottle’s about to kick in hard.”

“Sedative?” Her voice sounded thick. She lurched forward but I caught her, my fingers digging into her soft hair, my other hand on her hip. I guided her back to the bed, despite her frantic struggling. She had no strength; she was like a little doll.

“Sorry, Penny,” I whispered, making her comfortable. “If it helps, I didn’t want this at all. I think I love you. And even if I don’t, you’re my first real friend.”

“Love me? Alice, what’s happening?” Her eyes fluttered shut and I sat with my hand on her chest, feeling it rise and fall.

She didn’t move.

“Love you,” I repeated, then gently patted her hair flat. “That sounds right. So why’s it all wrong?” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Her breath was shallow. I pressed my ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was steady.

Not dead. Not yet.

I stood up and walked to my bag. I pulled a long, ornate knife from a sheath and held it to the window.

The razer-sharp steel glinted in the late evening light. The sun was nearly down.

I began to pace. My plan was simple. Kill Penny here in the room then wait until it was late. I’d sneak out to the apartment, spend the night, and drive to Maeve in the morning. I had an old station wagon parked nearby and the keys were in my pocket.

It wasn’t the big, splashy message Maeve wanted, but it would have to do. With Kaspar sneaking around, there was no way I’d be able to do anything public. Finishing Penny off alone in her room was the best I could hope for.

She looked peaceful. It was a strong sedative and I gave her enough for at least an hour or two. I didn’t know the dosing exactly, but it wasn’t like it mattered—she wasn’t waking up.

I walked to her, knife clutched in my hands. Pretty Penny. Beautiful Penny. I thought back to the first time we met—shy, uncomfortable, unsure. I wanted to hate her.

I was charmed, even on that first day.

She was easy to talk with. We laughed, we sang, we even danced. Being with her was the kind of friendship I’d always imagined.

Then it became more. I didn’t know when it happened. Gradually, slowly. My admiration for her morphed into feelings I didn’t know I was capable of.

I stood over her body and clutched the knife.

One thrust straight down. I could stab directly through her ribs and into her heart. I’d plunge it down and let her bleed out fast. I’d make it quick—there’d be no pain. She was out already. It would be okay.

Beautiful, perfect Penny.

I lowered the knife, paced away.

I didn’t want to do this. Ending her life would end my own. Even if I escaped back to Maeve, the Servant family would know me. Kaspar would tell them everything, and I was sure they could get a picture from the surveillance cameras all over the school. I’d have two Oligarch families on my tail.

Which was what Maeve wanted. She craved the chaos, the violence. She lived and breathed death. Of all the Oligarchs, she was the worst—she killed and maimed and slaughtered in the shadows.

This was supposed to be her big reveal. She was the antagonist the whole time! And nobody knew.

I stared back over my shoulder at Penny and tried not to cry.

This was fucked. So fucked and wrong. I knew it in my core. Maeve shouldn’t ask this of me, but I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. She didn’t force—she requested.

But I’d jump at anything if it would make Maeve happy.

God, this was so fucked.

I walked back to Penny. Sleeping beauty. I wondered what kissing her would be like. I could find out. I leaned forward. I felt her breath against my lips. I stayed there, inches away, mouth so close. I could taste her if I wanted.

I pulled back, disgusted.

She stirred, groaned.

I froze and held the knife to her throat.

If she woke, I could cut deep and end this. There’d be a lot of blood. Not that it mattered.

Her eyes stayed shut.

I sighed, moved the knife. I paced, back and forth.

I had to do it. I couldn’t keep waiting. The longer I delayed, the harder it would be.

Kill her fast. Stab down. That was all it would take.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Billionaire Romance
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