Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Later. Right now, we all need to get ready for dinner. Time for your next lesson.” Blue offers me his arm. “You did well.”
As we head toward the basement stairs, leaving Hans and Leroy behind, I look back one more time at the still form slumped in the chair. I actually did it. No throwing up, no fainting, no humiliating myself in front of Blue.
I’m getting better at this.
Chapter Thirty
Saylor
The relief flowing through me is intoxicating as we reach the main floor. For the first time since Dad died, I feel like I accomplished something meaningful. Like I’m actually becoming the person who can make them all pay.
Blue stops walking and turns to face me fully, his hands settling on my shoulders as he searches my face. “How are you feeling? Any nausea? Dizziness? Sometimes the adrenaline crash hits harder than expected.”
“I’m starving, actually. Is that weird?”
“Perfectly normal. Murder works up an appetite.” Blue offers me his arm with that pleased look that means he’s proud of my progress.
His approval makes something warm unfurl in my chest. I find myself wanting more—wanting him to tell me I did well, that I’m learning. The hunger for his praise feels almost as sharp as my appetite for food.
“Get changed—wear something nice. There’s an aspect of killing we haven’t covered yet, and I want you to meet someone who can teach it better than I can.”
I slide my hand through his arm, still buzzing from the adrenaline. The practical reality of what he’s saying starts to sink in as we walk toward the main staircase.
“Disposal,” he continues. “You can’t just kill someone and not think about what happens next. The body is evidence. The scene tells a story. Every choice you make after the moment of death determines whether you walk away clean or spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
This is why I trust him. Blue doesn’t romanticize death or pretend it’s cleaner than it is. He understands that wanting someone dead and actually making them dead are two completely different skill sets.
“An old friend of mine runs a restaurant built into the sea cliffs. Former colleague, you might say. He’s traded his previous career for a Michelin star, but the skill set translates beautifully.” Blue glances at me, gauging my reaction. “The view is incredible, and the food will be the best you’ve ever had.”
When we reach my door, he stops and turns to face me. His hand comes up to cup my cheek gently before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly, his lips still close to my skin.
The warmth of his praise makes me bold. “What kind of grade would you give me? Was I an A student today?”
Blue pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and that dangerous smile spreads across his face. “You were a very good girl.”
Those two simple words. My knees actually wobble, and I have to grip the doorframe to keep from melting into a complete puddle of goo right here in the hallway. Jesus Christ, the man could probably make me combust just by reading a grocery list in that voice.
Blue gives me a playful swat on the ass. “Go get ready. Meet me downstairs in an hour.”
I slip inside my room and close the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment to collect myself. This man . . . what is it about this man?
An hour later, I’m standing in my room trying to decide what constitutes appropriate dinner attire for learning about corpse disposal. I choose the black dress that skims my knees and makes my legs look longer than they are. Simple, elegant, but with enough edge that it doesn’t scream naive girl. The shoes are lower heels than I’d normally choose for a dinner out, but something tells me tonight might involve more than just sitting at a table.
Blue’s waiting in the main hall when I come down, and the way his dark eyes travel from my ankles to my face makes heat bloom under my skin. He’s been careful to give me space since I killed Leroy in the basement. Polite distance, gentleman behavior, treating me like I need time to process what I’ve become instead of the woman who craves his touch and approval.
But the way he’s looking at me now suggests that careful distance is getting harder for him to maintain.
“You look beautiful,” he says, offering me his arm with old-fashioned courtesy.
He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly, no tie tonight, the top button of his shirt undone.
Jesus, I’m turning into one of those women who gets hot and bothered by a man’s collar bones.
I’ve never been the type to go for older men. My friends always dated guys our age—immature, loud, obsessed with gaming and craft beer. But there’s something about Blue that makes my stomach flip in the best way. Maybe it’s the way he moves through the world like he owns it, or how he can discuss murder over dinner without missing a beat. Whatever it is, this man has ruined me for anyone my own age.