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He may be a sex-starved, desperate piece of shit, but he pays attention. My slip of the tongue was no accident.
I jump into action, moving the tie down and pulling it tightly around his neck.
“Your reputation precedes you,” I hiss. “Do you remember the two girls you killed while working for Spencer Bexley? Do you remember what you did to them?”
His eyeballs engorge in terror as I yank on the fabric. It cuts into his gammon-like neck.
“Who are you?” he gasps.
“Think of me as a ghost who has returned to haunt you.”
He claws at his neck in a pathetic attempt to free himself, but there’s no escape. I twist the fabric more.
“Do you remember what you did to her?” I whisper. “How you kept going even though she was gasping for air? Even though she cried and begged for you to stop?”
I pull harder, cutting off his airway. His face turns purple.
“You’re all going to pay for what you did to her,” I say. “You should count yourself lucky. If I had more time, I’d cut you into pieces like I did Anthony Steel.”
He thrashes around like a fish out of water, but it’s pointless. I won’t stop. I ease my hold for a second. He heaves and chokes.
“Please don’t do this,” he splutters.
I want to give him hope. A tiny shred of hope that he might survive, only to yank it from under him. Just like the hope I felt when I saw him and the others coming over the top of the hill that night. The hope that we were going to be saved that he—they—shattered.
I laugh and pull the tie taut. Strangling is hard work. Harder than most people think. It’s a good thing I’m wearing a long-stay foundation, otherwise, it would’ve melted all over my face.
“My name is Ivy Penrose,” I breathe in his ear. “Begging didn’t help my sister, and it won’t help you. You’re going straight to hell. Say hi to Anthony for me.”
His body seizes. Blood rushes to the whites of his eyes and the veins break. All I can think of is Daisy’s life draining away. His struggling stops, but I don’t. I keep squeezing long past his last breath, caught up in the moment.
Finally, I let go. His body slumps onto the sofa, laying slack-mouthed with glassy eyes and a bruised neck. No one will suspect a woman of being strong enough to kill a man. I wrinkle my nose and button up his shirt. I don’t have the time to hang him to stage a suicide, but I push him off the sofa. There’s a perfect body-sized hiding space directly underneath it to stash him in. It won’t be long until the smell of death permeates the place and someone goes looking for its source, but it’ll hide him from any party guests tonight.
I check my reflection in the window and adjust my hair.Perfect. I lean to look through the telescope and position it to view the gardens, where guests are milling around to see if Lord McGowan is in sight.
My mouth goes dry.
Fuck. It’s them…
Two figures prowling around away from the main crowd catch my attention. Even in masks and smart attire, I recognise them. If they know where I am, it means they’ve worked out who the final Duke is.
Stephanie and Alaric have come to take me home.
CHAPTER42
CALLEN
Isend Freddie’s call straight to voicemail. He’ll ring again if it’s important. A few minutes later, my phone vibrates.
I answer mid-yawn. “What?”
“You need to find Seb.” Freddie’s words come in a breathless rush. Mr Perfect is rattled. “I found something at Spencer’s. Something about Rose.”
Now I’m paying attention.
“What about her?” I ask sharply.
He selects his next words carefully. “I’m not sure yet.” The bitter edge to his tone tells me he suspects something. “But I want to find out.”
