Page 40 of Stay Toxic

At the time, his little newspaper business was worth a few thousand bucks—which was already a fair bit of money back then—but it’s grown into a humongous media business, entirely owned by the Coles—we never had outside investors. Right now, that means all the money is divided between my grandfather—who has half—my uncle, and me. My brother was written out of the will for something we don’t talk about when he turned eighteen. So that means I’ll get twenty-five percent of a multi-billion-dollar empire. It changes every quarter, but right now, the worth is somewhere in the seven billions.

Something stopped me from accepting Robert’s proposal; I can’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe I’m not ready to have that weight on my lap, even if he plans to manage it all. No twenty-two-year-old kid should have that much money on their hands, really. And I realize it’s mostly actual shares, but the quarterly checks are still monstrous.

It would be nice to have a little more freedom, but I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t quite sure I trust Robert.

“I know you like it, you little slut.”

I freeze.

The fact that hearing his voice now doesn’t surprise me is a good indication that I was right to trust my guts. He’s happy to fuck some girl—someslut, according to him—in my father’s office, so clearly, he’s only pressuring me to accept him for the money.

What genuinely startles me? The extent of my indifference. Like, I really don’t care about the fact that I’m listening to my boyfriend making out with some girl right now. I’m actually more invested in the fictional romance I’m reading than in their escapade. I know what Robert’s like in bed. It’s not that exciting. Maybe my pride is a little bruised, because no one likes to be cheated on, but I’m not feeling any sort of jealousy. Just…a vague sense of annoyance.

I tune them out and keep reading. I know better than to make a decision now, based on emotion. Who cares if he has a lover—or lovers for that matter? We still fit on paper. He’s a means to an end: my freedom.

Robert and the unknown chick get on with it, wet, dirty noises filling the room. He’s considerably more enthused with her than he ever was with me, that’s for sure. I guess that stings a little. Maybe he’s actually decent in bed, just not with me. What’s wrong with me?

I try to just focus on my book, and I mostly manage to until I hear my name.

“—do with Tia, if she finds out?”

“Tia’s uninterested in anything I’m doing, including you, Chris.”

Chris.

FuckingChrissy? He’s sleeping with one of my classmates? Asshole.

“But…”

“Butnothing. Everything will go according to plan. I’ll marry the troll, get a hold of her cash, be filthy rich, and buy you the biggest, most amazing diamond forourwedding after I get rid of her.”

Troll. He called me a troll.

And wait, what? Getridof me?

Chrissy giggles some more. “Don’t plan our wedding until you haveyourssorted out.”

“She’ll say yes. She’s desperate. And then, well, maybe she’ll take a little tumble down the stairs on our honeymoon. Or off the boat. I’ve always fancied cruises.”

“Robby, you can’t murder your billionaire wife,” she chuckles. “It’s way too obvious. What good would all her billions be if you’re in jail, and unable to enjoy them?”

“She’s clumsy as hell.” I can practically hear him shrug. “No one would question her breaking her neck—especially if it’s done in public, in front of witnesses, you know. It’s not like anyone would miss her.”

The voices are starting to fade as they walk away, casually discussing my murder, in a way that makes me think it’s not the first time they talk about it. And they’re not joking. Maybe the details need to be hashed out a little…but this is their plan. Get married to me. Kill me.

I’m too shocked to move, to think. I don’t know how, but this never actually was a possibility in my mind. I wouldn’t have thought Robert capable of thinking that way. My mother, maybe, but him? He’s a little bit of a people pleaser, always doing what my mother and his father want, but I never truly thought about what things might be like once hehasthe power.

Apparently, it’ll look like a long wooden box six feet under.

I need a plan.

I need out of here.

And eventually? I need to disappear.

17

I let Sebastian lead me to the center of the room, where couples have started to twirl slowly, in something too simple to be called a waltz, but I’d bet everyone here had formal ballroom training.