Page 48 of Harder Betrayal

17

CAULDRON

I spotted my target across the room.

Roan wore a tuxedo, but instead of a white shirt underneath, he chose black. A blond woman was on his arm, not a day over twenty. She was either too young to understand the danger she was in, or she cared more about the money, jewelry, and power that came with her position.

The dropper was in my pocket. All I needed to do was walk by and release the contents. There were people everywhere, but everyone seemed to be absorbed in their conversations that I doubted anyone would notice.

I’d slip in and out—and it would never come back to me.

The only thing standing in my way was the throng of people who wanted to talk to me. I even had an interested buyer, but I wasn’t in the mood for selling. Once someone asked me about Camille, my mood soured.

If I’d brought someone with me, no one would have asked about Camille, but I didn’t want to have a woman on my arm. Didn’t want to deal with the bullshit.

I waited for the right moment, juggling conversations while keeping my eyes trained on the prize. Roan leaned in close to his date and said something into her ear before he crossed the crowd and moved toward the other side of the room.

My eyes followed him, but they jumped ahead to see his destination.

A man with dark hair that was combed back. His eyes were focused on Roan like he knew exactly who he was. I recognized his face but couldn’t recall how I knew him. My eyes shifted to the woman beside him, a beautiful blonde. My eyes went back to him.

But then my thoughts caught up to me a moment later.

My eyes jerked back.

Blond hair. Green eyes. Beautiful skin that I could still taste.

My heart dropped like a bowling ball into my stomach.

It was like a fucking car wreck. I couldn’t look away.

His arm was around her waist, and he turned to her as he brought her close, the two of them exchanging words not meant for anyone else to hear. His eyes locked on her face, staring at her so intensely it was like he possessed the heat of the sun. Their intimacy was loud in their body language, like they’d known each other for a while, like this was one of many nights.

Many, many nights.

He stepped away, pulled his arm from her waist, and then walked off with Roan to another section of the house.

The poison in my pocket was forgotten. The entire reason I was there was forgotten. All I could do was stare at her and watch her sip her flute of champagne. She didn’t move into the crowd to make conversation. She stayed rooted to the spot—and waited for him.

Did she know I was there?

Did she know and just didn’t care?

I should stay focused on the entire reason I was there, but all I could think about was the woman across the room, the woman who looked anywhere but in my direction—like she knew I was there.

She fucking knew.

Instead of holding my place and biding my time, I made my way over. Had no idea what I would say. Had no idea what purpose it would serve. But I crossed the room, parted the crowd, and walked right up to her.

When I was just feet away, her eyes shifted to me. She was calm a second ago, but now a jolt of alarm spread across her features. She’d known I was there, but she’d assumed I would ignore her the way she ignored me.

Dead wrong about that.

It’d been over a month since I’d last seen her face. I didn’t watch her pack her things and leave, so the last time we were eye-to-eye like this was during that god-awful night when I told her we were done. She was thinner now. Her face was leaner. Her shoulders were bony. Her eyes were dry.

Her gaze took in my features with a stony expression, like she felt nothing.

Not a damn thing.