Page 73 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

He was still outside.

And when he took a step back into the doorway to reply, “I was here all along, waiting for you to show up.” I felt a tiny crack appear in the walls I’d always kept around me.

Was Alex Kingston about to change my whole world or turn it upside?

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

S.K.A.M.

Later That Night

“It’s tough isn’t it, not having a family to fall back on,” I said, pouring empathy into my expression and willing humility to shine in my eyes.

My date sighed, then smiled back at me.

She was falling for it, hook, line and sinker.

I had prepared so well for this romantic evening, and soon it would become something else entirely. She had no idea what was coming for her.

“It’s so hard to make your own way in this world,” I went on, lifting my wine glass and pretending to take another huge sip. And just as I expected, she lifted hers too, gulping the contents down as her eyes stayed glued to mine.

From the moment we’d walked into this restaurant on our fake date, I’d noticed so many things about her. Tells that would help me later tonight when I needed to take care of business. It helped that the restaurant was almost empty. There’d be fewer witnesses to say we were here. Less people to testify when she went missing. I was also lucky she’d worn a muted colour. It meant we didn’t really stand out. We were nobodies, and nobodies could get away with murder.

I proceeded to tell her what a brave and strong woman I thought she was, standing up to her odious boss and navigating the world on her own, and I could tell she trusted me by her unwavering eye contact and how she smiled so sweetly back at me. She was nervous and didn’t want to show it, but the way she spoke fast, her conversation muddled at times, was a dead giveaway. She was easily pleased, and at the same time, eager to please. She would be my easiest target yet. A target I had chosen to make a statement. If I wanted to, I could get to anyone.

Her mobile phone was still in her handbag. I’d be sorting that discrepancy out a little later. I wasn’t worried, though. She had no family waiting on her, and she hadn’t taken her phone out the whole time she’d been with me. She’d given me one hundred percent of her time and attention. I’d give her the exact same treatment later, when I had her alone in my studio.

Through the evening, I’d noticed that she was left-handed. I’d need to bear that in mind when the time came to restrain her. Subtleties like that had to be noted, and I was a perfectionist. There was no room for error.

She thanked me for the compliments I was showering her with, then reached for her handbag, as she said, “I have to use the bathroom. I won’t be long. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.” I nodded and smiled as she stood up. “Take your time, Grace.”

She made her way to the back of the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder as she went, and she grinned when she saw I was watching her.

I shook my head, smiling to myself as she disappeared out of sight.

Fuck, I was good at this shit.

I poured more wine into her glass; more for her meant less for me. I needed to keep a clear head. To stay focused on the goal of the evening. There was no room for alcohol and no room for failure. Discretely, I slid my hand into my pocket and took out the little white tablet. I slipped that into her drink too. It paid to be well prepared.

As I sat back, assessing the area and planning my next move, I spotted a familiar figure striding through the restaurant, heading to our table.

He moved across the space as if he was starring in an action movie, with his foreboding height and rippling muscles, walking away from a disaster about to explode behind him. And I smiled, knowing it was the opposite. It was disaster he was walking towards, not away from.

“I would say I’m surprised to see you,” I said as he stalked towards me. “But part of me is disappointed you waited this long to pay me a visit.” I frowned and shook my head with regret, then narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you find me, by the way?”

He didn’t reply straight away, just pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

Then he leaned forward, alert, glaring at me like he wanted to fly across the table and stab me in the eye with a fork.

“And I’m disappointed that I have to be here and state the fucking obvious, but here we are,” he finally replied in a gruff, low voice. Then he gestured to the ring on my right hand. “The ring I gave you for your birthday last year, it’s fitted with a tracker. I knew it’d come in handy... eventually.”

I lifted my hand and twisted the ring on my finger, shrugged, and said, “Good call.”

Anyone looking our way would think we were two businessmen, discussing deals and making money. Both of us were wearing dark blue, fucking expensive suits, and shoes that would cost a month’s wages for most people. But this was no friendly sit down. This was something else entirely.