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Gabe nodded grimly. “It sure does.”
The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana
FRIDAY, JULY 29, 4:45 P.M.
Lamont let himself into the house and placed the bag containing the flattened boxes, silver wrapping paper, and a few bronze sculptures on the foyer floor. The bronzes were freaking heavy. Not as heavy as Ashley’s remains had been, but he doubted that James would be able to remember the difference.
He’d wrap the new gifts when he was finished with Joelle.
He found her in her bedroom, dressed in one of her fancy frocks. Probably preparing for my big dinner party tonight. Shame that she won’t be attending, after all.
She sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. But she wasn’t seeing herself. Her gaze was unfocused, and her lips drooped sadly.
He might have felt sorry for her had she not hidden cameras in his study.
No, he still wouldn’t have felt sorry for her. Joelle was an unpleasant person, and he hadn’t realized how much he disliked her until he’d put a ring on her finger.
Stupid me.
But within a few hours, he wouldn’t be burdened with her ever again.
He must have made a noise, because she jumped in her chair, pivoting to stare at him with wide eyes. “You scared me,” she accused.
I’ll do worse than that. “I thought I’d come home between meetings. We need to talk.”
Her chin lifted. “If you still want a divorce, the answer is still no. You have no grounds.”
He started to say that he didn’t need grounds, but he wanted her compliant. “You could be right.”
Her eyes narrowed warily. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I simply thought we should talk.”
“Why are you so sweaty? You hate to be sweaty.”
It was true. He was drenched in sweat. He’d nearly run from his two thirty meeting, and stopping to buy the gifts, boxes, and wrapping paper had taken valuable time. “I’m sweaty because it’s hotter than hell outside. Come, let’s have a drink and converse like civilized people.”
She rose from the little chair and sauntered toward him, her hips swaying with every step.
Not gonna work, dear wife.That may have done the trick when she was seven years younger and he was a whole lot stupider, but not today. In fact, he had to fight not to laugh at her. She was ridiculous.
She ran her fingertips over the apology necklace he’d given her. “I might forgive you for another one of these.”
He smiled then, because it was part of the act. “I might ask you to.” When hell freezes over. He held out his hand and led her downstairs to the living room where they’d talked the night before. “I’ll mix us some drinks and we can chat.”
She curled up on the sofa, watching as he moved behind the bar. “Still not giving you a divorce.”
He shot her a warning look. He couldn’t come off as too conciliatory. She’d never fall for that. “We’ll see.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But with the video in my possession, you’ll be out on the street. I think I’ll like being mistress of this household all by my lonesome.”
He very nearly growled. There was no fucking way she was getting his house.
Calm down. She’s not getting anything. You’re killing her, remember?
Saying nothing, he mixed their martinis, adding to hers the last of the Rohypnol powder left over from Rocky’s killing. He and Jackass had each kept a little of the powder. Funnily enough, Jackass had probably used the last of his share on Joelle the night he’d been waiting in the study.
Lamont added olives to his own drink, knowing that she wouldn’t touch it. She hated olives. He handed her the drink and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “To civilized conversations,” he said.
