Page 44 of Pretty Poison

“I’ll admit, I’m not ready for you to be in my life the way you should be, but you’re in it and I can’t stop it now.”And I wouldn’t want to.“Neither of us can stop it. My parents and your father made this happen, and while your father used it to his advantage, my parents are good people. They’ll accept you for who you are and who you’ll become once we’re married and your responsibilitiesreallystart.”

I approach her, stopping in front of her. My hands move to her cheeks, my thumb wiping away her silent tears. “You’re not the wife I wanted, nor the one I needed, but you’re here now and soon, you’ll know everything about me and vice versa.” I exhale a steady breath, regaining my composure again. “Get dressed; there’s something you should see.”

She nods, her hand finding mine as we walk to her room. Quickly, I rummage through her drawers in search of appropriate, non-revealing clothing before handing it to her.

She looks up at me through her long lashes, her doe eyes pleading.

“I’ll turn around just this once, Liana. You’ll get used to changing in front of me.” I spin around and within a minute, she’s ready. “Let’s go.” I stick my hand out, palm to the ceiling, and wait for her to take it. This time, she hesitates, almost as if she’s considering not doing it.

Then, her warmth collides with mine, and a fire ignites within me.

Shaking the feeling away, we walk out of her room, down the corridor and stairs, and out of the house towards Remi’s.

The cold air nips at her skin as her hands tremble in my grasp. I remove my jacket, draping it over her shoulders and find her hand again.

Turning to me, she flashes a soft smile before spinning to walk up the three steps.

“Can I do it?” she asks, releasing my hand. “I haven’t used my code yet.”

“Sure,” I smile, gesturing to the keypad. She’s as giddy as a child on Christmas.

Covering the keypad with her palm, she says, “Don’t take this personally,” shoving my own words in my face with a devious smile before typing in her four-number combination.

The door pops open and we slip inside, me following behind her. Holding out my hand again, she takes it and lets me guide her to the basement door.

“What’s down there?” she queries as I type in my code.

“My problems,” I say, turning back to face her. “I want to warn you before we head down that the people down there aren’t good people. They’ll try to get in your head, and burden you with their stories. I want you to ignore them. They’re bad people who havedone bad things, and they deserve every single thing they endure down there.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but snaps it shut again and replaces the unspoken words with a nod.

I lead the way down the narrow staircase and I listen as her shoes thud on each step. The sound vibrates the metal stairs and echoes down the wide corridor in front of us.

A small, breathy laugh escapes me. In due time, she’ll know how to avoid those noises. The cells around us may be soundproofed, but only to an extent. Those creaks have alerted every fucker that we’re coming, giving them a slight advantage. “I’ll have to teach you where to place your body weight, little one. It’s a skill that’s needed when you want the upper hand on your intended target.”

Reaching the end of the hall, I stop and turn to her, her body swaying as she mimics my abrupt halt. “I want you to remember what I said, Liana.” She nods. “I mean it. These are bad people, and I don’t know what they look like right now. Silas tends to release his pent-up stress and anger on them in wicked, wicked ways. Don’t let their appearance or words scare you. Don’t let them get to you.”

Her eyes widen as if she’s only now understanding the sincerity and warning in my tone, her nod becoming more halting in its movements.

I unlock cell C5 and open it swiftly. The man before us jolts, his arms thrashing as best as they can in his weakened state. The chains keep him strung up like a marionette.

Liana gasps from behind me; I can feel the terror radiating off her. I turn to her, my eyes softening to show her a sense of comfort, and she reacts, her shoulders losing their tenseness.

Inhaling deeply, she steps into the cell and I close the door, the table of weapons now on display for her to see.

“They’re for Silas’s games,” I say, watching as her eyes linger on each one for no longer than a second. “He can get quite creative, sometimes.”

“Who’s this?” she asks, stepping further away from them, almost as if the sight disgusts her.

“No name yet,” I reply, my voice calm. “He’s a stubborn fighter, but he’ll talk. They always spill their secrets eventually. It just takes time—time that Silas likes to use to perfect his methodology in his torture techniques.”

“What has he done?” This time, her question is cooler and more collected, like she flipped a switch and turned off her fear for the time being.

“Remember what I said before about the infiltration? Why we use different codes for each person?”

“To avoid theft or hurting people, right?”

“Along those lines, yes,” I answer, tilting my head side to side and the corners of my lips pulling downward. “Well, this bastard right here gained my trust,” I continue, walking over to the man in the centre of the room. “He was my most loyal man and I trusted him with every cell in my body. But he tried to steal from me, almost killing my brother, Ciro, in the process—it’s one of the reasons Ciro no longer lives on the compound.”

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