“You look good enough to eat.” Mark leers at me as I smooth the dress so the slit up the side doesn’t expose my nakedness beneath.
“Thank you,” I try to keep my tone gracious, but I falter as he reaches for something his driver is holding and steps up to me. I blink in confusion at the glittering item as he raises it to my face. It’s a mask – the type used in masquerades. Bejeweled and beautiful, it’s encrusted with rhinestones that catch the light. He fastens it behind my head, then reaches into the inside pocket of his black tuxedo.
“We’ll want to keep a low profile here.” He grins. “Don’t want our photo all over the tabloids showing us hanging out near a place like this.”
Place like this?
I glance around. We’ve stopped in front of what appears to be an upmarket nightclub. There are two bouncers on either side of the black doors leading in. Mark reaches for my hand and guides me down the red carpet that stretches from the curb to the entrance. Flashing a black card has the doors swinging open and we walk down a short corridor to another set of doors. Music is thumping. It’s not clearly audible, but I can feel the bass beat. There’s a security guard at the door who glances at Mark and nods curtly, then looks me over.
“I’ll need to check your purse, Ma’am,” he says. I dip my head in agreement and flip open the flap that holds it closed.
Thank God I didn’t bring the goddamn Glock!
He pokes around in the contents, then gives a nod and steps aside to let me pass. Why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing in there that might raise suspicion. The small envelope of thallium looks completely innocuous. Though now I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to get into Mark’s drink in a club full of people.
Not that he’s going to drop dead immediately. I’ve picked this toxin because it’s slow acting. It’ll be days before the symptoms appear, and then he might assume it’s some unknown illness. Even doctors will struggle to diagnose it. But he’s going to find out when I tell him. Let him know it was me, and why I’ve done it.
Before then, he’ll suffer. Puking and shitting himself. His hands and feet will burn, and that pain will spread. Eventually, he’ll be delusional. If I let it go on long enough, he’ll start to go blind. That feels appropriate, somehow. To lock him in his own head with the images of the terrible things he’s done.
“Come with me,” he says and I give a small start as he takes my hand again. The doors open wide and I stare in astonishment at the scene within.
It’s a fucking sex club!
Men and women in formal attire are sipping drinks and mingling as if gathered at a cocktail party. But half the women have their tits on display, or dresses cut past the crack of their asses. There’s a stage at the far end of the room where a group of people are engaged in some sort of orgy. Naked women dance in cages that dangle from the high ceiling above us.
Oh. My. God.
“Like it?” Mark’s voice is in my ear.
“Um. It’s interesting,” I manage to choke out. He chuckles.
“Let me show you more.”
Oh God, do I have to?
I nod and let him pull my hand through the crook of his arm to link over the inside of his elbow. I try not to drag my feet as he leads me further in. Although we’re wearing masks, several people turn and nod at him. He’s known here. Why am I not surprised?
“Of all my clubs, I’d have to say this is my favorite,” he says, speaking to me over the din of the music.
“It’s yours?” I shoot a look at him.
“Oh, yes.” He nods. I should have guessed.
“I’m impressed.” I’m disgusted. There’s a table nearby where a guy who looks like a half-naked toad has two blondes taking turns going down on him. I don’t know how they’re not gagging. He looks like he could care less.
I’ve heard of places like this. Perhaps I’ve been a little intrigued. But being here with this man makes me sick to my stomach.
“I thought I’d bring you here to give you a little taste of what to expect once we’re married.” Mark turns his head to me, eyes flat and ugly behind the black mask he’s wearing. I pinch my lips together, trying to hide the fact that the air has seized in my lungs. I said I’d reconsidered his proposition but we haven’t openly discussed the “M” word. I nod when I notice those eyes narrow. He’s still testing me.
“Thank you. It’s fascinating.” I force myself to relax. To smile. To look around as if I really am fascinated. It’s opulent and over the top, with rich red walls that seem to color the whole room in a crimson glow. The floors are black-tiled, which is a relief because I can only imagine what kind of fluids end up being spilled around here. I’m almost overwhelmed by the scent of expensive cologne mingling with sex.
Mark snags a couple of champagne glasses from the tray of a passing waiter and hands one to me. His is empty before I’ve taken my first sip, and he picks up another. At this rate, he’ll be drunk in an hour – which might mean he wants to leave early, thank God. But I’ll have had no chance to get the poison into his drink.
I try to stop thinking about it. Try to focus on looking like I’m interested.
“Let’s go to my regular table,” he says, turning to a staircase nearby. As we walk, I’m aware of a presence behind us. A quick look back draws my attention to a pair of dark-suited guys. These ones aren’t wearing masks and it’s clear they’re not here to partake in the activities. I recognize one as the man who has been bringing me the messages. Mark’s bodyguards. They must have been in another car right behind us, then followed us in. I’ll definitely have no chance to pull a gun or a knife on him, even if we went back to his place. These guys don’t leave his side.
We walk up the stairs and reach a table on a raised ledge that’s set up against a wall. The high backrests of the chairs are upholstered in red velvet and Mark settles into one and leans back as if it’s a throne. He jerks his chin at one.
