“It’s a very short list.”
“Well, I’m not going to scandalize the Atwoods by having my attorney crash the party. Reed should receive him.”
“Do I have to?” he asked.
“Behave yourself.” I pulled him away. “Let’s go. In and out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We crossed the atrium, exchanging brief pleasantries with some of the more distinguished guests. A friend of the family intercepted me between planters of weird flowers and weirder blossoms. The pollen scratched my nose. I cleared my throat. It tightened anyway.
Allergies. Of course. More complications.
A polite smile excused us. I dug my fingers into Reed’s arm. He flinched.
“Jesus, Sarah. Are you okay?”
“Can you see Bumper?” My hand flitted over the dress. “It’s not obvious, is it?”
“Only when you stand like that. Relax.”
I’d never relax. Not now. Not until I knew it was safe.
But the closer that moment came, the more my insides turned to ice and then shattered through everything soft and tender. The hatred coiled inside me. I hoped Bumper was too little to feel any consequence.
I tugged Reed down an isolated hallway, away from the crowds, the eyes, the ears.
The witnesses.
He knew immediately what I wanted. He suffered through my plans before.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Reed pointed at me. “What the hell are you doing, Sarah?”
“I have a plan.”
“I hate your plans.”
“I need your help.”
“I hate when I have to help.” He tried to escape back to the party. I blocked his path. “Why isn’t Nick helping?”
I answered honestly. “Because he’d try to stop me.”
“And I won’t?”
“You won’t want to.”
“I doubt that,” Reed said. “You have five seconds to come clean. This is my party, Sarah. My work. A charity. Don involve it in this.”
“This will be the only time I’m close enough to Darius.”
“No.”
“I have a plan.”
“No, you have a disaster. You’re upset. I can tell. You’re scared, but believe me, Sarah. Nick’s got this plan, we have contacts, and it’ll be done right and professionally and without any fallout implicating us. And it’ll be soon. I promise. We’ll do this, and then you’ll be safe.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Yes, we can,” Reed said. “Trust Nick. He has this under control.”
“So do I.” I pulled the glass tube from my purse. “Simple. Quick. Easy.”
Reed didn’t want to see it. He forced past me only to swear and turn.
“What the fuck is that?”
I bit my lip. “You might not want to know.”
“Just tell me.”
I wished I wasn’t as proud. That Dad wouldn’t have delighted in the dark irony.
“It’s a concentrated sample of a Bennett Corporation pesticide. An organophosphate.”
Reed sucked in a breath. “And I can’t tell you to pour that on one of your fields instead?”
“No.”
“What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Toast to the future successes between the Bennetts and Atwoods.”
I planned to poison Darius with the very same chemicals that built his fortune.
Poetic.
Sick.
Reed rubbed the scar on his cheek. “What happens if he drinks it?”
“It’ll mimic the effects of a heart attack.”
“My father doesn’t have a heart, let alone a bad one.”
I agreed. “He’s sixty years old. He works long hours in a stressful industry. No one will question it.”
“Nick will.”
I swallowed. “And he’ll be glad it’s done.”
“Sarah, I can’t let you do this.”
I expected that, but it wouldn’t stop me. We were so close. One little sip, and we’d be free.
“Reed, if you knew what he did to me…what I went through…you’d already be pouring the champagne.”
Reed took my hand. His voice edged with a serious, dire tone I hardly recognized.
“Not a fucking second goes by that I don’t think about what happened to you. We all do. I can’t sleep at night. Max can’t even talk to you. And Nick?”
He stopped. My heart shuddered.
“What about Nick?”
“He’s spending millions to save you. He’s planned so much and done some really shady shit, and it’s only going to get worse. He will burn the world to root out Dad, and I doubt murder will ever satisfy him.”
“Then it’s good I’m doing this.”
“Blood won’t sate blood,” he warned. “I’ve seen it. For years, Sarah. My family pitted against yours. My mother was murdered seventeen years ago, and you are just now answering for her death.”
“It ends with Darius.”
“Not for you.” He glanced down. I didn’t touch my stomach though I longed to protect the little bump with a cross of my hand.
“The baby isn’t his,” I said.
“Does it matter? There’s still a baby. There’s still a child who is going to ask how and why and when he came into the world.”
“None of us have a choice in that.”
“Well, we have a choice in what we tell him about his conception,” Reed said. “Sarah, if you kill my father, you’ll feel safe. But will you feel better? Will you feel whole? Healed?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way again.”
“Then let us help you.” He cupped my cheek. “Nick, Max, and I will handle it. You focus on doing whatever the hell you need to help you heal. One night with us isn’t going to change anything. Hell, every night with us wouldn’t help.” He bumped his forehead against mine. “Though I’d be willing to try.”
I wished it were that easy. I swallowed.
“I have to do this myself. This isn’t about healing or the baby. It’s strictly revenge. There is no justice for what Darius did, only vengeance. I won’t let Nick take this from me. Once Darius is gone, I can begin to recover, but it has to start with me.”
Reed rubbed his eyes. He looked away, casting a glance over the party I inadvertently ruined and the decisions I forced him to make for me, again and again.
The seconds stretched into a minute of desperate silence. He finally exhaled.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Let me get to the champagne.”
“Not going to happen. Uncork that thing. Come with me.”
I seized a shaky breath, stalking after Reed. He turned to me, speaking low and quick.
“Can you do this fast?”
“Yes.”
He flagged a nearby server and ordered with a forced smile. “Open a new bottle of champagne and fill glasses. In the back, I’ve reserved a bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey. Pour an ounce of that on the rocks.”
The server darted into the staging area. The prickle of fear encased me in goose bumps. I actually wished for the nausea just to purge some of the wickedness from me.
“You sure about this?” Reed asked.
I nodded.
“That makes one of us.”
The server returned, and Reed took the whiskey, offering me the water. He guided us to approach the cluster of Bennett Board members laughing near a display of multicolored orchids and a mosaic of delicate pebbles arranged into a mural.
He held out the drink, I poured the vial as he walked.
And that was it.
My heart thudded as though I sipped from the pesticide-infused poison myself. Reed nodded to the approaching trouble.
“Careful.” He said nothing else as Nicholas joined my side. Max hovered behind.
I didn’t trust his stare.
“You haven’t found Anthony Delvannis yet,” Nicholas said. He handed me a small glass.
Orange juice.
“Nope.” I sipped the drink. It eased the craving. “Couldn’t find him.”
“He’s talking to my father.”
Son of a bitch.
For an attorney, Anthony Delvannis consistently overstepped his bounds, broke his own rules, and demanded a respect from his clients that rivaled on obscene. He twisted confidence into arrogance. He was attractive, but it made him domineering. Intelligent, though he wavered between conceited and cunning. And rich—a man of means who earned whatever he desired.