Page 96 of Unholy Union
Sabrina is beautiful and smart and charming—she’s all the things most men could ever want in a woman.
But the fact that she’s a Corsini means she could be exactly what Papà’s warned me about. She could be the beautiful distraction I’ve let myself start falling for.
I took her toConey Islandtoday, for fuck’s sake.
All because I wanted to spend the day with her and have a good time. I saw how upset it makes her that her father’s not himself, and I thought it would cheer her up and take her mind off things for a little while.
I’m practically falling in fucking love with the girl.
“We didn’t learn anything,” I say. “The guy was some prick off the street who’s spent most of his life in and out of jail. Somebody who the families hire for quick one-off jobs. Nobody with any real loyalty.”
“He was untraceable…”
“That’s right. Intentionally. But we’re not letting it go. Mario Pompa’s still out there, and Cassian’s going to dig into this guy’s background too—see if he can access his bank account and whatever payments he’s received. Not that we will likely findanything. They probably were smart enough to do cash or wire the money anonymously.”
Her face falls in disappointment.
A look I hate to see. I avoid glancing in her direction, rising from my chair in sudden need of a drink.
“It’s been a long day,” I say, walking over to my minibar. “Hell, it’s been a long night, principessa. Head to bed and get some sleep. I’ll join you soon.”
My hand goes for the crystal decanter of scotch I drink sometimes in the evenings after work. I’m pulling out the stopper and tipping the decanter to pour a glassful when Sabrina rushes over out of nowhere, slapping the glass to the floor.
It shatters, the sound loud and startling at such a late hour.
I eye my wife like she’s lost her mind. The strangest part is, she looks as confused as I do, breathing heavily as she stares at the jagged pieces of glass on the floor.
“What the fuck was that?” I snap.
She swallows, blinking dazedly as if unsure what to say. “There was cyanide in that drink.”
Chapter 20
Sabrina
Desire - MEG MYERS
One second I’m watching him bring the glass to his lips. The next, I’m lunging like something took over my body before I could remember why.
It hits me as the glass shatters on the floor.
The cyanide.
I pouredcyanidein Cato’s decanter with the full intention of taking him out. At the time I had no guilt or second guesses about it. But a lot has changed between us in such a short span of time.
I guess I reallyama terrible wife; I forgot I tried to poison my husband up until five seconds before he drank it.
The silence that follows is somehow louder than the glass that smashed into pieces.
Cato stares at the tiny, serrated pieces, then his dark eyes flick up to meet mine. An instant shiver jolts down my spine. I part my lips as if about to explain, then press them back together, coming up short on any words.
Howexactly do you follow, “There was cyanide in that drink?”
My mind comes up blank on any ideas. So instead, I stare back at Cato like I’m just as shocked by the revelation.
And in a way, I am—I’m not in the same mindset I was when I did what I did. I’m not so blinded by the intense hatred right now. I’ve slowly started seeing him in a different light, and the thought of poisoning him no longer makes me kick my feet in petty excitement.
It makes my stomach churn.
