Page 62 of Sweet Venom

He said nothing, and I tried to ignore how badly I wantedsomething. A flicker. A word. A crack in that perfect mask. I needed… something.

So I poked the grumpy bear.

“Are you planning on dropping me off on some remote island where I mysteriously disappear forever? If that’s the plan, just say so. I’d like to have one last call.”

His jaw ticked. His fingers paused mid-type.

He finally turned his head. Just slightly. Just enough.

“Miami,” he said, like the word offended him.

I blinked. Miami?

Why would we chase romance in Miami? Out of all the romantic places in the world, Miami doesn’t strike me as one of them.

“If you think Miami is a romantic city then you’re as emotionally constipated as I am.”

Nothing. Just a long, exhausted sigh.

God, he was a Greek statue in a $15,000 coat. Beautiful, untouchable, and infuriating.

That’s when the paranoia started crawling in. This was crazy. I knew Azariel the boy—but the man sitting next to me?He was a walking caution sign. I don’t know him. Not really. I just know him from a distance—through a screen. What if he’d killed me on the plane? What if I vanished, and the only witness was my asshole cat?

Prince wouldn’t tell anyone. That demon was probably thrilled about the idea of ridding himself of me.

I cut a glance at him. He was typing something on his phone. His tattoos seem to come alive when his fingers move rapidly. I found myself in a trance. What was he typing? Probably planning world domination or maybe he’s buying another business just to spite someone. Or he could be texting his hitman to make sure everything’s ready for my arrival.

I quickly shoved those thoughts aside. Maybe I was being dramatic. Or maybe I wasn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. I got on his jet. I got in his car. Whatever came next, that’s on me.

Way to go, Poe. Dad would be proud to know his daughter willingly chauffeured to her potential demise by the Devil in a tailored coat.

Then he sighed and looked at me. Really looked at me.

And I forgot how to breathe.

Storm in his eyes. Frustration on his face. But beneath that—something else. Something I hadn’t seen in years.

“Are you done with your conspiracy theories?” he asked, his voice low. “I’d never hurt you.”

My heart stumbled over itself.

I’d never hurt you.

That shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. But it did.

I stared at him, mouth suddenly dry. The lines on his face were the same, but softer now, touched by memory. He looked like the boy I used to know. And damn it, I hated that my heart still knew that face. Still ached for it.

He didn’t say anything after that. Neither did I.

Silence fell between us. And it was… almost comfortable.

He went back to his phone. I grabbed my iPad from my bag, flipped to a blank page, and typed one word.

Silence.

That was it. No plan. No idea what I was doing. Just a feeling. A place to start.

I snapped back to the present and glanced at myself in the side mirror, adjusting the blazer that clung to me like a second skin. It was one of his choices—waiting for me in the hotel room he took me to after we landed. A hotel, naturally, that he owned. Because of course he did.

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