Page 26 of Sweet Poison

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I hiss as a sudden pain grips my chest.

I don’t understand the pain, but I do know it only strikes when I think of her or see her.

I can’t look away. She looks like a fairy, ethereal and out of place among the white crowd.

I watch as she smiles at a man who offers her a drink, with a shake of her head, she politely denies. I scowl at the fucker. The odd feeling in my chest intensifies as I look at her some more.

Without thinking, I pull out my phone and call Perry. “Put one of the resort’s guests, Willow O’Sullivan, in the penthouse suite next to mine,” I say, my voice harsh. “And no fucking questions. Just do it.” I hang up before he can respond. The moment the call ends, the pain in my chest lessens. So, I keep watching her as she moves beneath me. Her quiet presence, her smile and her simple beauty, makes everything feel too damn intense. When the organ inside my chest begins to race, I tap my chest, mimicking the way she used to calm herself when she was little.

I didn’t understand it at first, but I knew it somehow made her feel better every time she did. Now, as I do it myself, it feels right. The taps ground me amid the chaos of emotions she stirs up within me as I watch her. I can’t tear my eyes off her as she moves through the crowd, smiling, and laughing. A boy who looks around seven or eight stops her to hand her a flower. Even from this distance, I can see her blush as she smiles and makes the sign for thank you. The kid beams and then runs off. Huh. Such a simple gesture…

She moves again, then pauses and leans in and press a gentle kiss to the cheek of a man I can’t quite make out from here. My jaw tightens as a pang of jealousy stabs through me again, sharp and very fucking unwelcome.

She’s speaking to the man now, looking happy and at ease as if they know each other. She’s not signing and that makessomething twist inside me. She’s not using sign language, not even a hint of it. She must be speaking, feeling at home with the fucker.

A surge of anger bubbles inside me. Is she married to him? Is he her boyfriend? The questions spiral through my mind, each one more maddening than the last. The thought of her with someone else makes me see red. I grip the railing tightly, and with a sudden crack, a Christmas light snaps under my grasp.

The fuck…

Why does this bother me so much? She’s not mine. Fuck, I haven’t seen the woman in years. I must be going out of my mind. It’s irrational, but the sight of her with another man—someone she clearly feels comfortable and happy around—makes me furious. I don’t have a right to feel this way. Why the fuck does it matter who she’s with, or if she’s with the fucker.

As I watch her, the conversation with the man feels like it lasts forever, each second dragging on as I wrestle with the tedious emotions. My chest still hurts, the jealousy mixing with an indescribable yearning that I can’t quite place. As Willow wraps her arms around the bastard one last time, my frustration boils over. I watch as she hugs him close, her smile wide and genuine. The sight makes a low growl escape my throat.

A minute that feels like an eternity passes before she finally pulls away, her pretty smile lingering as she begins walking towards Sunset Escape, our beach restaurant. Willow smiles shyly at people she passes, only deepening my irritation. Why does she smile at them? Why does it bother me so much? I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of her being so easily affectionate with someone else which is fucking insane. She’s. No. One.

I turn away sharply, rolling up my sleeve as I step into the suite and move toward the door, frustration driving me forward. Lincoln steps into my path. “Where are you going?”

I shoot him a bored look, barely registering the nuisance’s presence. “I’m hungry,” I snap, not in the mood for conversation.

“You just ate,” he snaps back.

Growing more annoyed, I push past him, the door swinging open with a force that mirrors my sour mood. Lincoln’s footsteps follow me, but I don’t turn to acknowledge him.

Fuck.

One meeting.

That’s all it took for Willow O’Sullivan to invade my mind and bloodstream, infecting me with everything that is her… all over again.

Chapter

Nine

CHRISTMAS WONDERLAND

Willow

“I’m losing my damn mind over a fairy. Fuck, I’m so fucked.” –M

I’m staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror as I adjust my mint-green, skin-tight skirt. The fit is perfect, hugging every curve just right, and I’ve paired it with a white tube-top that complements the subtle tan of my skin. This isn’t my usual outfit. I usually feel more comfortable in baggy jeans and oversized shirts, but I decided to try something new. I was lucky that Mom had been a bit sneaky and slipped fashionable and cute outfits into my luggage.

Running my hands through my hair, I let it cascade down my back in wild, curly waves. As always, I’ve kept my makeup minimal—just a touch of mascara and a hint of lip gloss to add a subtle blush. I feel most comfortable in my natural skin. While all my cousins loved playing with makeup as little girls and now create some wicked makeup looks as adults, it's just not me.

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