“Malakai,” He answers.
“Find me Bradley Vermont,” I spit his name, “The Third.”
“With a name like that, it won’t be hard. Any other details?”
“He’s the one who filmed Olivia.” I swallow down the acid on my tongue. “I want him dead.”
Silence greets me from the other end of the phone. “I’ll handle it.” Sebastian eventually says.
“Make it look like an accident.” I order, “No questions. And I want tech online, any traces of the video I want removed.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Sebastian says, I can hear him walking, his steps echoing which tells me he’s in the underground parking lot of his apartment building.
“Make it possible,” I demand, “I don’t give a fuck how, just do it.”
“On it.” Is his only reply.
I hang up and let out a harsh breath, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. This stinks of the council, their tantrum targeting my wife. What else will they attempt to do? What did they hope to achieve with these images?
Another meeting needed to happen, because clearly, I am not being loud enough in my demand to leave my wife out of this damn business.
With the council meeting invitation sent, I head to bed but not before I check the sunroom. It’s empty save a still full glass of wine and an untouched plate of food, the blanket she was using draped over the arm of the chair.
I switch off the lights and walk quietly through the house, up to the bedroom which is dimly lit by the light spilling out from the bathroom.
And there she is, fast asleep in my bed with that damn wall of pillows dividing the bed. She’s facing the windows, her hair braided and lying across the pillow. She doesn’t stir when I climb on my side of the pillow barricade after showering and once again, when I wake the following morning, she is no longer in the bed.
Chapter Twenty-two
It’s while Malakai is in the gym, I decide to enact my next piece of revenge. I grab everything I need and then disappear up the stairs before anyone can spot me.
I woke up this morning feeling like shit. The memories plagued my every thought, dragging my feet and watering my eyes but it was a long time ago. The event fucked me up enough when it happened that I made the decision I wouldn’t let it affect me anymore. I could mope and whine if I wanted, or I could make my husband’s life a little harder like I promised to do.
The latter is far more enjoyable.
So that’s how I end up in our shared closet, perusing the shelves of shoes. There’s sneakers and loafers, and a couple of pairs of boots but it’s a specific pair I’m looking for. He has several different pairs of loafers but it’s the black Prada ones I’ve noticed he favors the most.
I pull them out and take them through to the bathroom, almost feeling bad about it. Not because they’re his, but because they’re expensive and rather beautiful for a pair of man’s shoes.
But I don’t feel guilty enoughnotto do it.
Picking up the bottle of ketchup, I pop the cap and tip the shoe, toe pointing down as I empty a good portion of the ketchup into it, being careful not to spill any down the sides. I then do the same to the other one.
When I feel they are thoroughly coated in the condiment, I carefully place them back into the shelves where I found them.
Standing in the middle of the closet, my eyes scan the rest of his things, wondering what else I can do until I hear the handle go to the bedroom.
My eyes bug out of my head. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet! He was in that gym for several hours yesterday, but it’s only been an hour today!
I rush out of the closet, spotting him immediately. He’s dressed in only a pair of dark sweats, topless, barefooted, and sweating. His damp hair falls over his forehead and perspiration makes the tanned skin of his chest glisten.
“Olivia,” he says, as shocked to see me as I am to see him.
The ketchup bottle is still sitting in the middle of the counter in the bathroom. Where he’s probably about to go for a shower.
I say nothing as I sprint for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it.
He knocks a moment later, “Olivia.” His voice is soft, almost gentle and it makes me feel uneasy.
