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This moment couldn’t be harder. Earlier, when I spoke to Roxanne, I was hellbent on sticking to my guns to try and move on without Cillian. Now I’m standing here in front of him, and he’s speaking to my heart, saying all the things I want to hear. But I’m holding a bottle of poison that’s supposed to kill him.
What a cruel twist of fate.
I know I’m being watched now. Lance would have picked me up on the cameras from the moment I drove up to the house and he can hear me talking to Cillian.
If I’m to pull this off, I have to be clever about it. And it’s now or never.
“Chloe, talk to me?” Cillian mistakes my silence for hesitation or doubt. I can see it in his eyes.
I reach up and touch his jaw, feeling the scruff of his beard. “I love you, Cillian. Of course, I want forever with you.”
He smiles and presses his forehead to mine in that habitual way I love. “You forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I pull away to gaze at him. It’s time to act. “Morgulis septum stasis.” I smile for the cameras, becoming the actress again, then I drop my gaze purposefully and distinctly to the bottle of wine between us.
I hold his face when I notice the look of dread that enters his eyes and coax him to keep his eyes on me.
“I want you, too.” He smiles at me and says a few sexy words in Gaelic, making it seem as if we’re saying sweet nothings to each other in mixed languages.
Oh God. He understood me. This just might work.
“Let’s go upstairs and celebrate with this.” I hold up the wine.
“I love that idea, lass.”
He kisses me and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me upstairs.
I hold on to him for dear life wishing with everything in me that we get through this.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cillian
The wine is poison.
It has to be. Either that, or the bottle is supposed to explode the moment I open it like some sort of Molotov cocktail.
Chloe molds her body to me, shaking. I can feel her heart beating so fast, I’m holding her like I can stop her heart from jumping out of her chest.
Morgulis septum stasis.
When I told her those words, I thought maybe I was being over the top and overreacting, but they have come in handy just when she needed them.
Terror is writhing through my mind because I don’t know what’s going on. From Chloe’s actions I assume Lance obviously got to her and has leverage. And she’s also wired. I think the motherfucker can also see us, which means he hacked my surveillance.
I’m taking her to the bedroom because the surveillance in there runs on a different system. I have a separate recording unit. There’s one in the bathroom, too.
I know once we get there, I have to be quick. I don’t want to make him suspicious when he can’t see us.
I return my lips to hers just before we reach the bedroom and make it seem like we’re about to have sex, then I kick the door in.
It slams shut, then I set her down and signal to her that no one can see us in here.
Her chest caves, she drops the bottle of wine and starts crying in silent shudders. Then she shows me the little device on her top. I lift her top off and toss it in the corner, then we get in the shower and turn on the water full blast. I don’t know the radius of the device, but water always distorts the clarity of the sound in a transmission.
I move Chloe close enough to the shower cubicle that we can talk to each other without getting wet.
“Chloe.” I still keep my voice low.
