She slid the empty syringe into a hidden compartment in her garter. From her clutch, she pulled out a sleek phone and typed a single message:
SOUND: Soft jazz from a hidden speaker. Ice clinking in a crystal glass. Lethal Seduction
“Shh,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don't fight it. You wanted to be close to me. Now you will be. Forever.” She slid the empty syringe into a hidden
Tuesday? I was killing a lie. Yours.
Her name was Celeste. She had appeared three weeks ago at his casino, a shimmering ghost in a crimson dress. She lost at his blackjack table with a grace that felt like winning. She laughed at his jokes with a delay that suggested she was savoring them. She touched his arm—just once—with fingertips so cold they left a brand. “Shh,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his temple
Nico opens the door.
