Page 71 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

I almost laugh out loud at her, but somehow, I manage to keep a straight face. “I think it’s best to leave that to the law. I don’t want to fight you over such things, but I am his next of kin...” I let the words trail away because I can’t help it; I am one for dramatic pauses.

And in the silence that follows, I see the unearned triumph on their faces, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. They still think they have the upper hand, that they can bribe and threaten their way to victory. They don’t know that I’ve spent years studying them, following Ivan to meetings where he delicately felt out whether the other party was open to bribes and how much would be an appropriate amount. They have no idea that I have built a contact list of my own, filled withpoliticians and businessmen, people who run the world. And the cherry on top: I might not even have to use them, because the law is on my side. I am Ivan’s next of kin, his wealth is rightfully mine. We can play this nicely or we can get dirty; either way, I have won.

“I’ll just pack a few things and stay at a hotel,” I say kindly. So gracious, so generous. “You can stay here until you figure out other accommodations.”

Their faces blanch at the reminder that this penthouse, like all the other assets, will soon become mine. I quickly turn and walk away then, because I can no longer keep the elated grin off my face.

I sit back in my leather seat at the bar of the Plaza Hotel with a glass of their best whiskey and sigh with contentment. Lifting my glass, I inhale the woody scent of the amber liquid and gaze out the window at the city. After so many years of planning, of inhuman levels of patience, I deserve this.

Footsteps approach, and I know without even looking up that she’s here. Only Jane can make even her footsteps sound apologetic. The smile on my face as I stand to greet her is genuine; after what she’s done for me, I am actually happy to see her. She looks different tonight, more beautiful somehow, her face glowing with something I can’t quite put my finger on. I embrace her and pretend not to notice her sniffing me. Once a dog, always a dog. But at least she’s a faithful dog.

“I’ve ordered for you, something to remember Oxford by,” I say, because I know this will delight her, the knowledge that I care enough to remember her favorite drink.

I was right; her smile takes over her face, dimpling her cheeks. She looks ten years younger than when I last saw her. But more than that, she looks somehow more herself, like she’s finally settled into her skin. It’s made her really quite stunning. I wonder what’s different now. Careful, Thalia. This is a new game. A different game. I need to figure out what she wants now that she has rescued me. And I need to figure out how to win.

“How are you doing?” she says. The waiter arrives then, placing a pint of English apple cider in front of Jane, and she smiles again.

After he leaves, I let out a long sigh. “I mean, I don’t know, really. It’s been a whirlwind. I’m so—Jane, I can’t thank you enough for helping me. On top of losing my husband, being accused for his death was—” My voice wobbles very convincingly. “Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” I put down my snifter and reach out for her hand. Her eyes widen, and a flash of uncertainty flits across her face, like she can’t believe that I want to touch her limp, clammy palms. Well, Idon’twant to, Jane. But one must show gratitude when appropriate, so here I am. She trembles ever so slightly as she reaches out for mine, and then I’m clasping it, and it’s just as damp as I remember, like holding a frog in the palm of my hand. I fight down the wave of disgust and smile at her. “Jane, my best friend in the world.” She gazes back at me, completely under my spell. “You saved me.”

Tears shine in her eyes. She looks grateful, and rightfully so. In a very meaningful way, I have given her the best gift—to be able to say that she saved me. It is the one defining moment of her miserable, unremarkable life. A highlight that every other moment will fail to live up to. After this, she will go back to hervery average home and her very average husband and continue writing her very average books, and she will look back on this and know that she has peaked, thanks to me.

Then she says, “I know,” and those two words come out so quiet that I wonder if I’ve misheard.

“Sorry?” I say, leaning closer.

“I said I know,” she says, louder now. Her hold on my hands tightens. “I know I saved you, Thalia.”

I cock my head to one side. I’m a little confused, slightly taken by surprise. I don’t like surprises. I try for a smile, but it fights me all the way.

“Because,” she continues, “I know the truth. You were poisoning Ivan. I have a recording of Ani saying that.”

I lean back and try to pull my hand away, but her grip is now a vise, and I can’t yank my hand away without causing a scene. “You have a recording of Ani confessing to Ivan’s murder.” That was what my lawyer had told me, anyway.

“I do, yes. But that was just a snippet of everything that Ani told me. I only gave the cops what they needed to arrest her and let you go. The rest of the recording, where she said all sorts of damning things about you... it’s safe somewhere.”

A small laugh wobbles its way out of my mouth. “That’s so—do you realize how ridiculous it all sounds? Nobody’s going to believe Ani, especially now that she’s admitted to killing her own brother.”

“I know.” She looks down and caresses my hand with a thumb. My skin erupts into gooseflesh. “But I also have Aunt Claudette on record, telling me what you were like as a child, as a teen.”

I snort. “The ramblings of a senile, old—”

“I looked up your mom’s old boyfriends. I managed to find acouple of them. They said you threatened them, said you’d accuse them of raping you unless they broke up with your mother.”

My mouth twitches, itching to come up with a retort to refute her, but my mind comes up with blanks.

“And then I saw that the last boyfriend—what was his name? Freddy Somer. See, unlike the others, he disappeared without a trace. His family filed a missing person report on him.” She leans closer, close enough for me to see all of the minute differences on her face, the way she’s changed from a dog into a wolf. How did I miss all of the signs before? “What did you do to him, Thalia?”

I lean toward her, too, until a single, lonely inch separates us. “The same thing I’m going to do to you if you insist on playing this game with me,” I whisper. I don’t do well with threats.

She grins then, and releases my hand. She leans back, still grinning, and flips her hair over her shoulder. “I love it. I knew you’d say that.” Her breath releases in a sigh. “I always wondered why I was so obsessed with you. And now I know. It’s because you make me feel alive. Maybe some part of me knew that you were this dangerous monster, and it triggered an instinctive reaction inside me—whatever it is, I just—I am addicted to this feeling. I want to be near you. I know—” She holds up a hand when she sees that I’m about to say something. “I know you’re a psychopath or whatever, and you probably don’t understand what love is. I don’t care. I’ve driven myself crazy all this time, wondering why I’m so into you. I don’t think I’m sexually attracted to women. Who knows? But anyway, I think I’ve finally figured it out. Did you know, as it turns out, I have social anxiety? I think I do, anyway. I’ve always been scared, always felt this, like, resentment toward others for whatever reason. But I don’t feel it with you, and I think it’s because when I’m withyou, everything is shaved down to the bone—to basic survival instincts. It’s crazy, I know, but it’s true. I write so much better with you around. You’re my muse. All those years when you were gone, I felt like a part of me had died. You can see it in my books. They were just... dead. And then you came back and, my god, Thalia, you need to read what I’ve written these past few days. I swear it’s like I’ve been possessed.”

I have to admit, what she’s saying is a lot to process. I mean, it’s insane, but it’s also really flattering. Because yes, of course I should be a muse. Anyone who’s been lucky enough to come across me knows I ignite something in others.

Jane leans forward, her eyes burning into mine. “So here’s what I want, Thalia: I want to be with you. You’re a killer, a monster, but we belong together.”

For once in my life, I have no idea what to say. She’s not turning me in. She wants to... be with me. I stare at her, my mind zipping ahead as it always does, making multiple moves across the chessboard. Already I’m plotting her murder.

“You’re probably wondering how you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she says, and my expression must betray me because she laughs. “I knew you would. I’ve put safeguards in place. If I were to suddenly disappear, there are quite a few damning files that would be sent to the police. But I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to outsmart me. And that’s exactly why I love you. I’ll be doing the same. Don’t you see? We make each other into the best version that we can possibly be.”

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