Page 82 of Preying Heart
I lift my arm over my eyes to hide them. “I’m not feeling well.”
“You’re still pregnant, aren’t you?”
I can only nod.
He rips my arm from my face and shakes me. “Look at me when I speak to you.”
I don’t answer.
“Well?” He raises a hand, and it takes all my puking guts not to flinch.
Instead, I stare at the hair between his eyebrows. It’s a close enough approximation to looking him in his evil eyes.
“Are. You. Still. Pregnant?” His teeth are clenched.
“Yes, Gavin. I’m still pregnant, and I intend to keep this baby.”
“We’ll see about that.” He grabs my face in a pincher grip. “Terminating your pregnancy isn’t my first priority. What I need you to do is to handle Slade. He’s become a problem to me.”
I keep my gaze on that tuft of hair between his eyebrows. I’m surprised a fancy guy like him isn’t having his eyebrows threaded. Strange. But it could be a trademark for him—to make his face instantly recognizable. He’s so handsome that it doesn’t mar his attractiveness. It’s the dark soul inside that’s the black mark against him. But the casual voter has no clue.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask with a flat and emotionless tone.
“Clean that pig up and make sure he doesn’t screw up his assignment. He’s so stupid he’d trip over his own dick.”
“Then why do you want him to do whatever it is he’s to do? Hire someone smarter and leave Slade alone. Chalk him up as a lost cause. I’ll pay you back for any expenses you incurred. The bail money, any damages to your mansion, and any dirt he got on your shoes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You have no money. You have no skills other than on your back, but you being pregnant is disgusting.”
“The baby is yours, Gavin. Your mother may feel different, especially since your father’s death, which by the way, I’m awfully sorry and offer my condolences.”
“Don’t you dare tell my mother.”
“Why? So you can get rid of her grandchild without her ever having a chance to dote on her?” I lift my chin despite the grinding sickness in my gut.
“She doesn’t have to know.”
“Does Claudia know?”
“No, but she no longer matters to me.”
“No? What about her dad’s billions? Your campaign contributions. Your future in the party and the glorious rise to the White House.”
“She’s an ugly hag. She hasn’t kept herself up well. Refused to correct the plastic surgery mistakes and let herself go. Her lips are too fat. Failed botox. She’s older than me. What kind of image does that give? Me, in the prime of life, with an older woman who looks it.”
“You married her, Gavin.”
“She has to go, and it has to be an accident.”
My breath catches so fast I choke. I’m unable to speak, racked over with coughs.
Gavin walks to the bathroom and brings me back a cup of water.
He talks over me as I try to calm down, taking deep breaths that end in hiccups.
“This is where Slade comes in. He’s good with accidents. No one will be blamed if it’s an accident.”
“Wait, you want him to kill your wife?” I cough out the words.
