Page 8 of The Trick

“I wish you would,” I challenge him. “Now, let go of me,” I warn and he surprisingly lets go without a fuss.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” I say, turning back the other way. A tinge of disappointment creeps in as I look down at my knife. I really thought tonight would be the night I use it but sadly, it will go back into my jacket, unused and clean.Boo.

Barely two paces into my walk in the opposite direction, Ethan clears his throat to get my attention. Back facing him, I pause. “Yes?” I ask, genuinely curious as to what he will say now.

“You’ll be back,” he sneers.

I pivot to face him. “And why is that?”

“Because when my father finds out that your father is the one who has been leaking info to the press, you’ll realize you need me.”

Huh, I didn’t think the little shit had it in him. It’s a big accusation, one that, given my dad’s involvement in the real estate division of Campbell Enterprise, could be plausible, but I know it isn’t.

“First of all, no, I don’t need you and second you’re lying, my dad would never.”

“Yes, I will, and I’ll tell him that you confirmed to me that it’s true. Let’s be real, Blair, my dad will believe me over your whore ass any day.”

Oh hell no. It’s one thing to call me a whore when you’re fucking me, but in this context? Those are fighting words. Looks like my knife is about to make an appearance after all.

“Is that so?” I challenge him, dying to see what he is going to say next.

“Yep, and he will fire your dad and you will lose that house, the cars, everything. You’re nothing without the Campbell name funding the life you take for granted.” He spews, catching his breath before his demeanor changes, yet once again. “We could have had it all, Blair Bear.”

Oh my god, I’m going to be sick. No, he did not threaten me then call me that gods forsaken nickname that my dad calls me…again. Only difference is my father helped bring me in this world, Ethan didn’t, and he sounds like a Grade A douche saying it.

“Don’t call me that,” I warn.

“Why not? What are you going to do about it?” His arrogance is one of the many things I despise about him. While I don’t mind someone who has arrogant qualities, it has to be matched with a level of charisma that Ethan does not possess in the least. Which makes me laugh. Hard.

“What the fuck is so funny Blair Bear?” he asks, taunting me again.

Here we go. He has given me no choice.

Clearly, he has no idea that I’m capable of a lot more than hurting his delicate ego. See I can live without him, but him, on the other hand, he can’t livebecauseof me and what I’m going to do to finally shut him up.

Making sure to sway my hips with each step so he can’t help but look, I step to him. “You aren’t going to say a word to your dad, Ethan,” I say in a seductive tone. It’s mind boggling how he has somehow forgotten about the knife that I now have somewhat discreetly behind my back.

He hesitates for a second, sliding his gaze from my hips up to my eyes. “Why is that?”

I pause, standing right in front of him. My free hand lifts to his face, caressing his chiseled cheek before I bring my lips to his. Extending my tongue, I tease him. Licking the outline of his lips. A throaty whimper breaks from his parted mouth, which makes my center pulse. I’ve never felt this way near him, and I think it’s because of what I’m about to do next that makes the otherwise torturous proximity bearable.

“Because, as the old saying goes,” I begin, leaning my chest forward so it grazes his, “dead men tell no tales.” I seal my words with a kiss just as I drive my knife into his stomach. His warm breath pools into my mouth and it’s like I’m tasting the literal life being drained from him. It’s fucking intoxicating.

Breaking the seal of our kiss, I watch him peer down to his abdomen in horror as I slowly pull the knife out, admiring the way the blood shines beneath the moonlight. A rush like I’ve never experienced before floods my body. I can feel the lace of my thong dampen the more I stare at the crimson that drips from the blade.

“Blair!” he whimpers, clearly in shock. “Did you just st-st-ab me?”

“Oops, did I?” I tease.

“Please. I’m sorry, I can make it up to you,” he pleads.

I bring my index finger to his lips, pressing it against where they are quivering. “Shh,” I whisper. “Make it up to me by holding real still.” I revel in the confusion that is rich on his brow. “Now let’s hope you don’t squeal the way you do when you blow your load while I kill you,” I grin. “That’ll really put a damper on the mood. Bye, Bye Ethan.”

May you rot in peace.

CHAPTERFOUR

October 30th, 2008

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