Page 22 of Hate to Love You

I lurked in the shadows, using the groomed hedges to hide in plain sight. He was in the house for less than thirty minutes before he stormed out, throwing the door so hard into the wall that the old brick dusted around it. Then he sat in his car, blaring his music, and punching his steering wheel, making the horn blast. Repeatedly.

All while his mother looked through the window at the scene he was causing, before letting the curtain fall back into place.

Out of sight, out of mind I suppose.

Eventually he sped off, his tires tearing through the gravel of the drive and throwing pebbles everywhere.

I paid the driver of my cab to follow behind him making sure he kept a three-car gap between us. If we were any closer, I worried John would get suspicious. Of course, the driver was suspicious too, staring at me through the mirror. So I spun a lie, saying he was cheating on my best friend.

I followed him until he arrived at The Studio, throwing his keys at Teddy, the bouncer who usually mans the door. Before I even got inside, he was drugged out of his mind, with a young working girl sucking his cock down like a delicacy.

On Sundays, The Studio often had themed nights, where there were no limits. Anything could happen, and anything often did.

Even from across the club, I could see his neck straining as her head bobbed rhythmically. He fisted her hair and held her down, forcing her to choke so hard on his dick that after he finished, she crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her face. Her knuckles white as she tightly gripped the wad of cash, he threw at her.

A normal man would’ve been done for the night.

But John? No.

That’s when he went after Lizzie.

He stormed over to the bar, slamming his hand down repeatedly demanding she give him another drink. But Lizzie bravely declined, wisely cutting him off.

I wasn’t planning on killing him that night, but the opportunity was right there. So, I took it.

I brought myself a drink, and ordered him a whiskey, neat. As I walked away from the bar, I dropped the Widowmaker in, swirling the glass in my hand. He gave me a dazzling smile as he patted the seat next to him, before he slurred something about me being a ‘good girl’.

I will forever remember the way his lips formed the words.

Ugh. It still makes my skin crawl.

But that night had been successful.

And tonight will be too.

Forcing myself to move from the chair, I snatch my phone off the nightstand, and load up Igor’s face, his balding head distracts me temporarily, but my eyes zero in on his eyes.

“The eyes are the doors to the soul; they show you all you need to know about a person.”

My grandma was right. As always.

Because Igor’s eyes in this headshot suck all the light out of the room, the shadows making them appear darker than the pits of hell.

A smile curves across my face.

It’s time he met the devil.

Chapter Five

ROMAN

“Caesar!” Pasha exclaims, dropping to his knees and calling my dog the moment I walk through the doors of my executive floor. “Heyy budddy! Get over here, good boy!”

Even though I know Caesar would love to go running to Pasha, I click my tongue, signaling for him to disregard the excited invitation, and like the intelligent dog he is, he stays directly at my side, looking up at me for affirmation.

“Damn, Ro,” my brother snickers, slowly lifting himself up with the help of the nearest desk. “What the hell did you do to this poor dog to make him so obedient?”

“I trained him, Pasha,” I say as I walk past him. “You know, that thing where you put time and effort into teaching an animal commands, expecting they will obey those commands? Something I apparently failed to do with you fuckers since none of you assholes listen.”

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