“Since when, Ish? Since us?”
“I–” He tripped over his words. “It–”
I picked up my gun. His words weren’t coming fast enough. My heart was hurting and I needed something of his to feel the same pain.
“Don’t do that, my baby. I won’t be able to forgive you for that.”
“You will. I’m not worried about that. Me forgiving you is what you should be worried about.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Royce.”
“Say the truth. That’s what I want. We’re four days away from voting and the world finds out you’re expecting a child. When, Ishmael Samuel Grayson? When was the last time you stuck your dick inside of Asia?”
I lifted the flap on one of the four Chanel bags he’d purchased me in the last two months. I removed the silencer.
“August.”
“August when because the math ain’t mathing.”
“August, Royce.”
“August when, motherfucker?”
“The day you walked into my office.”
My lips pulled backward. A smirk lined them as I shook my head. Ishmael had stuck his dick inside of another woman and possibly produced a child with every intention of pursuing me. Men were hardly ever different.
They were all the same in so many ways. Though he wasn’t mine at the time, he planned to be. That thought alone should’ve kept his dick in his pants.
“Hmph,” I scoffed.
Silently, I screwed on the silencer.
“Royce– what the fuck are you doing?”
“By any means, Ishmael.” I sighed.
I placed the nose of my gun to his side and fired a single shot.
“Fuck!”
My eyes rolled upward.
“So dramatic.”
He didn’t as much as flench. His blood soaked his white shirt, immediately. I wished I had the heart to care or even get him a towel, but I didn’t. He’d claimed to want me vulnerable, but he’d forced me to be vicious.
I shoved my weapon in my purse and snatched up the brown paper bag. He didn’t deserve my generosity today. Neither did he deserve to eat. I hoped his stomach was the source of his discomfort all day.
“That should put you ahead in the poles.”
My right shoulder lifted and fell. I wasn’t expecting retaliation. Because, deep down, Ishmael felt like he deserved that bullet as much as I wanted to give it to him.
“Are you fucking insane?”
“Yes. And, to win, you have to be. Tight screws don’t leave room for successors. Loose screws do.”
I opened the office door with my chin high and my chest swelled. Though it was hurting, I wouldn’t let the world know it. I wouldn’t even allow Ishmael the pleasure of knowing he’d injured me. The bullet to his waist was the sweet redemption I’d settle for at the moment.
