Page 196 of Poison Aches

Everything in me tightens.

As soon as Angel sees the jackass, she lights up and smiles.

Freaking smiles! At him!

“That’s him, sir,” I hear behind me. Kai stands there, also having spotted the guy called Jackson who Angel has been in contact with.

“How the hell did he get in?”

“As a plus-one, sir.”

I glance at him and he only gestures down toward the floor where I spot another idiot making his way to Angel.

Apparently Vaughn invited that idiot…for Angel?

I know Vaughn drove Angel last night but how the hell did they get in contact to the point where he’s now doing her favors?

Is it really about the fact that she’ll choose who becomes heir?

As I watch, Vaughn perceptibly raises his head and looks directly at me and smirks.

The jackass suddenly leans in to say something to Angel.

She immediately throws her head back and laughs, attracting all attention to her.

As she laughs, her beautiful neck elongates in a way that taunts me, making me feel feverish with need. I ache.

The sound of her laughter alone gets on my nerves because late at night when I’m alone in my studio, I hear it playing at the back of my fucking head as if I have a recorder just for her laugh.

Over the years, I’ve managed to ignore her simply because I’m not interested in piquing her Interest further.

I did the honorable thing when I told her as much with clear precise words two Christmases ago, and I think that somehow got through to her because since then, she never smiles in my presence like she used to.

When we’re in the same room—which is almost always because we have the same friends—she stays as far away from me as if I have a contagious disease.

I mean, I do have a terminal illness, but still, her distance has been felt all right.

But now, there it fucking is.

That fucking smile that makes me feel like I’m stuck in mud.

Her eyes twinkle like a thousand stars, but that might be because of the crystal chandeliers that are currently hanging low in this damned ballroom.

And she has all eyes on her.

Including mine.

But she just doesn’t have my fucking eyes on her, she has my fucking attention even from across the damn room.

“Whoa,” George whistles low beside me. “Who shit in your fancy tea today?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter.

I stare at Angel, but more importantly, I glare daggers at the fucking prick she’s giving that smile to.

Just last night, her entire world came crashing down around her, but tonight, here she is, smiling like all is right in her fake world.

But then again, she’s always been a stellar pretender, this girl. She deserves a gold medal.

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