Page 101 of The Devil's Thorn
I sit again, crossing my legs. And wait.
He finally turns back to face me, picks up the glass without looking, and takes a slow drink.
I watch his throat move as he swallows. And then… I smile.
“You know, I wasn’t sure if you’d actually drink it.”
He pauses. Glass still in his hand. His eyes lift slowly to mine. Cold. Sharp. “What did you just say?”
I tilt my head. “The drink,” I murmur. “You’re surprisingly trusting for someone who keeps knives in his walls.”
Rafael’s eyes lower to the glass in his hand. He tilts it slightly, and that’s when he sees it. The cloudy swirl of white, dissolving slow and soft at the bottom like a secret still whispering.
He stiffens. Just slightly. And his voice comes out low. Measured. But darker now. “What the fuck did you put in this?”
I stare at him with the calmest smile I’ve ever worn.
My heart isn’t even racing.
“Poison,” I say simply. “Fast. Painless. But effective.”
A pause. Alongone.
His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t panic. Hewatches.
“That so?” he asks, voice quieter now. “And why would you kill me in my own home?”
“Because I didn’t,” I say flatly—then burst into soft, genuine laughter. “Relax, Romanov. It’s a vitamin.”
He doesn’t laugh. He just stares at me.
Then sets the glass down and steps forward slowly, eyes still locked on mine. “You think this is funny?”
“I think it proves a point.”
“Which is?”
“That if I’d been a man—if I were Alessio or one of your rivals—you never would’ve let your back turn to me. You never would’ve taken the drink without checking. But because I wore a dress and played a role… you underestimated me.”
He’s quiet. Deadly quiet. But somethingflickersin his eyes. Not anger.
Respect? Curiosity? Desire?
Maybe all three.
“You wanted to make a statement.”
“No,” I say softly, leaning forward again. “Iamthe statement.”
Another pause. The tension between us now is no longer just sharp. It’sliquid.Dripping between every word.
“You said you wanted me close,” I murmur. “Then don’t waste my time with easy assignments. I held your life in my sights once—and you didn’t even know it.”
His gaze sharpens. “You’re not going to tell me when that was, are you?”
“Where would the fun be in that?”
He takes a slow breath. Steps back once. Then pours another drink—another,from the same bottle. And sips it while keeping his eyes on me.
