Page 10 of Sardonic Burn

Right to fucking hell.

The sound of the piano fills my ears as I step inside, walking next to my father. Many people turn their heads and stare. It’s not unusual—we attract attention wherever we go. Whispers and murmurs follow us as we step further into the enormous venue, yet we pay no attention to it.

It’s one of the charity events of the year. It’s being held four times a year, and this is the last one for this period. Behind the scenes, it’s an operation to launder money with the facade of a charity event.

I don’t even know which charity it’s for.

I’m dressed in a suit that I purchased last minute, an hour after the funeral. If Franco were alive, I would’ve been spared this miserable night, and he’d be here in my place, talking with these irrelevant people about shallow things.

I draw my attention back to the people and notice that a lot of criminals are in attendance. I recognize a couple of mobsters immediately, as well as their closest associates. After all, many of them are our clients.

The waiter walks by, and I stop him, grabbing a glass of champagne from his tray. It tastes too sweet for my liking, but I swallow it down. I need alcohol in my system for tonight. It will be one hell of a night, and there’s no better way to boost my ego than being under the influence.

The clock strikes eleven, and the lights dim. The music is different, and couples gather around to dance in the middle ofthe venue. It looks like a medieval ball filled with aristocrats. Well, in a way, it’s exactly like that. The powerful are flaunting their wealth and influence while scheming behind the scenes about how to acquire more power and money.

It’s a never-ending game.

As I’m about to walk out to the terrace for a much-needed smoke, I pause and stare at the entrance.

Noelle Campbell strolls down the stairs with care and grace. Her arm is interlinked with her fiancé—a bastard who is at the top of my hit list. I’m not certain how much it will hurt her since it’s an arranged marriage, but it’s worth a shot.

He’s an oil mogul, just like Noelle’s father. It’s no wonder the two are to be married; her fiancé got his business illegally and to this day, half of it isn’t as clean as he wishes it was.

Noelle doesn’t notice me, or, if she does, she acts like I’m invisible. A deep-green dress hugs her hips with a big slit on her right leg, showing a little part of her tattoo. I tilt my head to the side and stare, clutching the glass in my hands until it breaks.

Glass shards fall over my palm and down to the floor. It’s quite loud in this room, so no one notices it. Looks like that witch knows how to laugh. She’s smiling widely as if she didn’t kill a man last night.

My brother.

My jaw clenches as I stare at the lovely couple. He’s whispering in her ear, and her smile widens with each word. She responds to his blabbing as if she didn’t just walk into the lion’s den.

It makes me want to pull out all of her teeth and pluck out her tongue. The amount of fucking hatred I hold for this woman is insane. All I can think about is brutally ruining her, mentally and physically, until she is on her knees, begging for forgiveness.

That’s why all of this is fun.

She’s not the type to easily surrender. It will be quite the challenge breaking her, piece by piece, but it’s not impossible.

Finally, as if sensing that someone is shooting daggers her way, she turns her head to look at me. She blinks before snorting. Then, she turns back to her fiancé, acting as if she didn’t see me.

“That little—” I stop myself with an involuntary laugh.

I can’t approach her while she’s surrounded by people. She’s polite, laughing, and they fucking don’t leave her alone for what seems to be an eternity. Her fiancé is glued to her side like a little bitch, staring at her with adoration in his eyes.

Who could love a monster except another monster?

My eyes follow her every move as she tries to escape the crowd. With each person stepping aside and giving her space, another emerges and engages her in a tedious conversation, yet the smile doesn’t falter from her face. If anything, it looks permanently glued to her face.

Her fiancé dips and walks over to the bar, ordering two drinks. I can’t hear from across the room, but I see the bartender fixing two martinis. He’s staying away from Noelle on purpose and continues to watch her from the shadows like a fucking creep.

No matter how much I want to paint my hands with her blood, to see her inevitable downfall, I still can’t understand why she agreed to marry someone like him. Sure, on paper, they are a perfect match, but he is too strange. She’s a lethal woman, and he’s nothing but a pest.

Well, it’s none of my business.

I whip my phone and ear buds from the inner pocket of my jacket and connect my devices. Earlier in the day, I had someone wire this entire venue. Luckily for me, one of the wired places is the bar where the two are now located.

She manages to slip from the ridiculous fan base and grab a stool to sit on.

I shove the ear buds in my ears and click the start button, now hearing their voices clearly.

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