Page 124 of Intense
“Hey, I was wondering if I could book an appointment with Mr. Avery. I have a multimillion-dollar company interested in a merger, and, honestly, I inherited it. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here. It’s kind of an emergency.”
I layer in the panic, just enough.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t you worry,” the woman croons. “James will be able to handle everything for you.”
I sniffle lightly, playing my part.
“Thank you. I feel like I’m drowning. The board members don’t trust me. But it’s my daddy’s name on the line here.”
“James is actually on calls until five-thirty, but he has a client meeting at the club in town at seven. Would you be able to meethim around six-thirty there? It’s informal. He likes to get to know potential clients over drinks.”
Of course he does.
“Sure. What’s the address?” I ask, already writing it down.
She gives it without hesitation.
“So, six-thirty. Do I need to bring anything? ID? A deposit?”
She giggles.
“No, his first meetings are always casual. If it’s a good fit, we’ll schedule something more formal later.”
I swallow back the sour taste in my throat.
I wonder if his seven o’clock “client” is also a woman.
“Great. Thank you so much.”
I hang up, hand trembling as I toss the burner back into the drawer.
I grab the keys to the safe.
I don’t have long to disappear into the skin of someone else—long enough to become her. The kind of woman James Avery would lean into without realizing he’d just kissed death.
Inside the safe, I run my fingers along the neat rows of vials and bottles. My collection.
“Something I can hide in a drink,” I murmur.
My fingers stop on the small glass ampoule labeled Digoxin.
A naturally occurring poison. A few drops mixed into alcohol, it’ll take its time, meddling with the rhythm of his heart, giving him the illusion of illness. By the time he crawls into bed, it may already be too late. Or maybe he won’t make it home. Maybe he collapses on the steps.
I don’t care how it ends.
Only that it does.
The thought curls through me, warm and sharp, and I smile.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
But then again, there’s a lot in this life I shouldn’t be doing.
I slip on the rings Finn gave me, letting the weight of them settle around my fingers. They complete the look. A panicked Southern trophy wife, desperate for legal help before her husband finds out she nearly destroyed the family business.
But as the metal touches my skin, the heat in my chest changes.
That ache flares.
