Page 2 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

She rolled her eyes, cursing to herself.

If I wasn’t dead inside, I’d find it cute. Endearing even.

“I think I need to meet your parents,” she went on, sitting forward now. “So they can give me tips on how to have manners like you.”

I huffed a smile and dipped my eyes, feigning a humility I didn’t feel.

“I wish you could meet them too, but sadly, they’ve both passed away.” I revealed in a sombre tone.

She put her hand over her mouth, sorrow pooling in her eyes as she acknowledged what I’d said. It was the perfect hook to catch her and reel her back in.

Carefully, she placed her hands back on the table, then reached for mine in an effort to comfort me. “My God. I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I held her hands across the table, gripping them tightly to reassure her, then I stroked my thumb gently over her knuckles. Women loved that. Or so I’d been told. “These things happen.” I shrugged and she tilted her head to the side. She was well and truly caught. Hook, line and sinker. “There’s no need to apologise. Life goes on.” I picked up the bottle of red wine and poured some into her glass before filling my own.

“Did they pass recently or was it a long time ago?” she enquired gently, picking up her glass and taking the smallest sip; then she licked her lips and placed the glass back down on the table. She wasn’t drinking much this evening, and I was trying very subtly to alter that. It would help her in the long run.

“It was quite a few years ago now,” I replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve had time to come to terms with it.” I picked my wine glass up and pretended to take a larger mouthful than I actually did. She watched me and mirrored my actions, just like I knew she would, lifting her glass again and taking a large gulp.

“Are you close to your family?” I asked her, taking the heat off myself and giving her the spotlight again. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

Her eyes went from watery empathy to sparkling hope as she started to talk again. And I did a stellar job of looking interested in what she was saying, as I zoned out and focused on how her neck muscles constricted as she swallowed and spoke. I imagined what it’d feel like to have her velvety, porcelain skin under my touch. To track the gentle pulse of her carotid artery against my fingertips. To experience bliss when that pulse gently waned as I squeezed tighter.

This girl was beyond pretty; she was exquisitely beautiful. What a shame the CCTV had been disabled, so no one would be able to revel in her beauty after tonight.

I knew how to be a gentleman when I wanted to be. But tonight, the beast was coming out to play...

Because this girl sitting in front of me wouldn’t live to see the morning.

CHAPTER

TWO

EMMA

Present Day

“Iswear, I will murder someone if I don’t get out of here soon. I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe. My day has been beyond shitty. No. Scrap that. It’s been a totally shitty week,” I moaned to my best friend Grace, as I spoke to her on speakerphone while wrestling to get myself into my little black dress in the cubicle of my works toilet. Thankfully, there was no one else in here.

“The bar is filling up already. Get moving, girl,” she urged with playfulness in her tone.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” I assured her. “I’ve got a taxi booked. It should be here in five minutes, and then I’ll be with you. Order me a gin and tonic.” I blew some stray hairs out of my face as I huffed and wriggled into my dress and then smoothed the silky fabric in place with my hands.

“I’ll make it a double,” she stated, clearly on a mission for tonight. “My week was shitty too. Don’t keep us waiting, Em.”

“Us?” I asked. It was usually just me and Grace whenever we went out. Hearing her say us made my butterflies explode and reform into a swarm of wasps.

“There’s a few of the guys from my office here. I thought we could make a night of it.”

I didn’t really know Grace’s colleagues that well. I’d only met a few of them briefly. And I wasn’t great at being with new people. I hated how awkward I felt in situations where I was outside my comfort zone, and a night with strangers would put me on edge.

I debated telling her I couldn’t make it, something had come up, and sloping off home to put my feet up and watch a Netflix boxset or binge read a good romance novel. But I couldn’t do that to her. I’d made a promise that I’d see her tonight. I couldn’t go back on that.

“Sounds great,” I said, feigning excitement. I wasn’t keen on the extra guests, but it was Friday, and wherever I went with Grace, I knew we’d have a good time.

I assured her again that I’d be there as soon as I could and then said my goodbyes before hanging up.

My working week really had been and always was a shit show. In my job, I spent half the time wishing I could climb the career ladder, that for me seemed to have brittle, breakable steps, or falling back into the shadows to avoid my odious boss.