Page 64 of Toxic Kiss

HAVEN

The hallway is quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent lights. Anita is gone, which is good. I don’t exactly want to get into it with her again so soon.

Two guards stand in the middle of the hall, wearing the band’s standard staff uniform. They are blocking the corridor, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart.

I stop when I reach them and tap the closest one’s shoulder. I recognize him as one of the guards who accompanies the guys daily.

“Are you going to say I’m a groupie when I get back and not let me in?”

He smirks. “No, Ms. Gaillard. We know who you are.”

“And Anita can’t put a ban on me, right?”

He chuckles and looks at the second guy.

“No, she doesn’t have the authority to block you from Mr. Vale’s room.”

“Great. That’s all I need to know.” I start to walk away, but turn back. “Brett and Rob, right?” They nod. “Do you two need anything from the cafeteria or vending machine?”

“We’re good,” Brett answers. “Thank you.”

I need coffee. No, what I really need is a shower and to brush my teeth. But for now, the liquid pick-me-up will do.

Walking to the elevator, I push the button and try to shake away all the insanity I’ve felt since Cy collapsed. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and yet it seems like weeks.

Not to mention evaluating my emotions or the gut punch of terror I felt when he mouthed help before falling. Ugh.

Why me? Why does he need me? How have we gone from mortal enemies to this? Me. I’m the problem. I know it. The smart me would’ve made sure he was admitted and alive and then left before he ever woke up.

The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and there she is—Anita.

She leans against the back wall, all casual, and stares at me. It’s like she has been waiting in here. That’s not creepy at all. I glance at her hands and make sure she isn’t holding a knife.

“Well, are you getting on?”

“I don’t know,” I say, very aware of the danger I am in. “Are you riding it back down to hell?”

“Funny, Haven. Doesn’t Cyrus want us to get along?”

I suck in a deep breath and decide to be a bigger person.

“You’re right. If you’re going to try, then I will as well,” I say, stepping onto the elevator and hitting the button for the first floor.

“I see you’ve gotten comfortable as my son’s protector. I’m so happy you’re taking the job seriously,” she says, voice silky with condescension.

I don’t flinch.

“I won’t apologize for caring if that’s what you’re after.”

“Oh, darling,” she drawls, lowering her voice like we are swapping secrets. “You’re so transparent.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you think that because you’re Auguste’s daughter that you’re special. You mistake proximity for importance. You’re good at lingering on the edge of things, hoping someone will invite you inside. Like a stray dog waiting for scraps, you’ve always begged at Cyrus’s feet. But he played you then, and he is playing you now. Just because he wants you to shield him from the truth of his own demise doesn’t mean he suddenly wants you to be his girlfriend, or anything else.”

With my arms folded in front of me, I make sure not to show that her words hurt.

“And you’ve always mistaken cruelty for power. I’ll never understand how you dug your claws into my father’s heart. He’s a good man, and one day he’ll finally wake up and kick you to the curb. That will be the happiest day of my life.”