Page 79 of Lovely Venom

Once we’re inside, I jerk away from him and cross my arms. “You reek of perfume.”

He stands there staring at me, jaw locked, his expression ice cold. For all his quiet fury, I expected a lecture. But instead, he delivers a single line devoid of emotion, which is somehow worse.

“I’ll send someone to take you home.”

Pressure throbs behind my eyes as I realize what this is.

Cristian didn’t want me up there with another man, but he also didn’t want me up there with him.

Without even knowing how, I’ve become the woman he hides away.

I can’t say it’s an unfamiliar feeling because Marco did the same thing. But it never bothered me as much as it does now.

Cristian turns to go, but before he leaves, he looks back at me and mutters the same words he said to me at Black Velvet.

Il bacio della morte.

The door seals shut with a click that feels visceral, and I stare at it long past the point of reason. Then I pull out my phone to translate what he said.

When I see it, it finally makes sense.

He told me that being with me has consequences, and at the time, I thought he was talking about Bran. But now I know he wasn’t. When he said the consequences were certain ruin, he meant for himself.

I’m the venom he can’t survive.

I’m his kiss of death.

By the time one of Cristian’s men comes to retrieve me, I’m certain the night can’t get any worse. But I should know by now that things can always get worse, and in this case, they do.

Either the universe has terrible timing, or this quiet ambush has been perfectly planned.

In the corridor, Jolie and I come to an awkward standoff when she steps out of one of the private rooms and closes the door behind her.

“Hello.” She offers me a cold but polite smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Of course, she’s poised, graceful, and stunning—the mob wife trifecta. She’s also French, so there’s that. I wouldn’t blame a man for marrying her for the accent alone. But she’s really out here making the rest of us look quite boring, comparatively.

“I’m Chantel.” I nod at her. “And you’re Jolie.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She appears pleased that I know who she is. “May we have a private word?”

I glance at Cristian’s guard, and he walks to the end of the corridor to wait for me.

“I believe we share a common interest,” Jolie says, getting straight to the point.

I’m tempted to deny it, but I doubt she’d believe me if I did. She may be soft-spoken, but this is a calculated move, and it’s not for nothing.

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” she goes on. “I can see the appeal. But may I offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?”

I nod, mostly because I’m curious what she has to say.

“He may desire you, but he will never choose you,” she says gently. “Men like him marry for business, and I think you already understand this. A wise woman knows when to walk away with her dignity intact. If I were you, I would find a man who doesn’t feel the need to hide you away.”

Her observation cuts deeper than I care to admit, but it doesn’t matter how I feel. Tonight, Cristian made everything crystal clear.

“Thank you for the advice,” I tell her. “But it’s unnecessary. What Cristian does with his life is none of my business.”

She seems satisfied with my response, though I don’t doubt there’s still a question in her mind. He dragged me off the rooftop like a caveman, and everyone saw it. But then he brought me down here and returned to her.