Page 88 of Vicious Souls

“And she’s been all of those things,” I agree. “Until recently. Now, it feels like she’s… watching me. Like she’s waiting for something.”

Stella’s lips press into a thin line. “You think she’s jealous?”

Jealous. The word hangs in the air, heavier than I’d like. I’d never paid much attention to Fiona beyond her role as my assistant. She was professional and efficient, and that was all I needed. But now…

“Maybe,” I admit reluctantly. “But it’s more than that. There’s something… off about her. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s angry.”

Stella’s eyes narrow. “Keep an eye on her. And if she steps out of line, let me know. I’ll handle it.”

I nod, but the unease lingers. As I end the call and glance down at the ring, its sparkle seems almost mocking, a stark contrast to the growing tension in my office. Fiona’s behavior isn’t just a minor irritation anymore. It’s a problem. And problems like this have a way of escalating.

* * *

When the flowers arrive,Fiona drops the vase on my desk with a touch that lingers too long, her eyes narrowing slightly as she says nothing and leaves the room.

I frown, setting down my pen as I eye the roses. They’re black—midnight black, with a strange, waxy sheen that makes them look almost artificial. I lean closer, until the faint scent of decay that clings to them wafts around me like an unwelcome guest.

My stomach twists. Black roses. Not the kind of gesture Dante would ever make. With me he is all warmth, light, and fire—these are cold, angry, and foreboding. They are a message, but from who?

I hesitate before reaching for the small envelope tucked among the thorny stems. My fingers hover over it, dread pooling in my chest. Instead, I buzz Fiona back into the office.

Fiona appears in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. "You called?"

"Who delivered these?" I gesture at the flowers, my voice cool but probing.

Fiona shrugs. "No name. Just dropped them off downstairs."

I study her, the vague answer doing little to ease my unease. "I thought packages were supposed to be checked before they came up."

Fiona’s lips curl into a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "These looked personal."

"Personal?" I repeat, my brow arching. "You think black roses are personal?"

Fiona’s gaze flicks to my hand, to the engagement ring that catches the light like a taunt. Her eyes linger there for a beat too long before meeting mine. "I think whoever put that ring on your finger has a dark sense of humor."

The insinuation strikes me like a slap. My eyes narrow, and I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Dante didn’t send these."

"Didn’t he?" Fiona counters softly, her tone almost teasing. "Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do."

My jaw tightens. She’s out of line…again. There have been times when she’s thrown out random comments that struck the wrong way, but she’d quickly understood her words were inappropriate and backtracked. Today, it seems like she’s going for broke.

“Are you feeling all right, Fiona? You seem... a little off ."

Fiona’s smile vanishes, replaced by something cold and brittle. "Of course you’d think that. Must be easy to judge from up there in your ivory tower."

"Excuse me?" My voice hardens, my patience fraying.

"Nothing," Fiona says, turning to leave, but not before adding, "Enjoy the flowers. They suit you."

The door closes softly behind her, but the tension in the room lingers like a bad smell. My chest tightens as I stare at the roses, my mind racing. Something is deeply wrong with Fiona—had been for a while—but today feels different. Why was I constantly ignoring the gnawing feeling she leaves me with every time she’s around?

I force myself to reach for the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly as I slide it open. The card inside is black, a blood-red rose painted in stark relief against the darkness. The image is grotesque, dripping with what looks like crimson tears. I open the card with a flick of my thumb, holding the edge like it has the ability to scorch me. My heart is pounding as I read the words inside:

"Everything beautiful eventually dies.

REST IN PIECES”

A shiver runsdown my spine. I set the card down carefully, my eyes drifting to the door behind which Fiona sits. For the first time, I realize I might not be dealing with just resentment or jealousy. This is something far more sinister.

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