Kill me ,darling

Edward Blackwood had been pretending to enjoy himself for exactly two hours and seventeen minutes.

That was two hours and sixteen minutes longer than the charity gala deserved.

“Mr. Blackwood, I’ve been hoping to speak with you all evening.”

Another man stepped into Edward’s path before he could reach the ballroom exit. Edward recognized him as the owner of a struggling investment company whose emails he had ignored for the past three months.

The man smiled too widely and offered his hand.

Edward accepted it because refusing would attract attention.

“I have a proposal I believe you’ll find extremely interesting,” the man continued. “If you could spare me ten minutes—”

“Send it to my office.”

“I already did.”

“Then my office has my answer.”

The man’s smile slipped.

Edward released his hand and moved on.

Golden lights reflected from the chandeliers hanging above the hotel’s grand ballroom. A live orchestra played near the stage, but its music could barely be heard over the conversations filling the room.

Businessmen laughed at jokes they didn’t find funny. Politicians shook hands with people they claimed not to know. Wealthy couples posed in front of cameras before separating to speak with the people they actually wanted to impress.

The entire evening was built on polished appearances and hidden intentions.

Edward understood both better than most.

“Leaving already?”

A woman in a silver dress appeared beside him and lightly placed her fingers on his arm.

He looked down at her hand.

She removed it.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” she said with a playful smile.

“I wasn’t.”

Her smile brightened.

“I was avoiding everyone,” Edward finished.

She laughed as though he had made a joke.

He hadn’t.

“You’ve hardly spoken to anyone tonight.”

“I’ve spoken to too many people.”

“Then perhaps you need better company.”

She stepped closer. Her perfume reached him before she did—sweet, expensive and applied far too generously.

Edward glanced towards the exit.

She followed his gaze and shifted deliberately into his way.

“My friends and I are having drinks in the lounge after the auction,” she said. “You should join us.”

“I have other plans.”

“Plans that can’t be changed?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes dropped briefly to his mouth before returning to his face.

“What if I asked very nicely?”

“It would still be no.”

The rejection finally reached her.

Her expression tightened, but before she could answer, someone called Edward’s name from behind them.

Three more people were approaching.

That decided it.

Edward lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, even though he had no intention of drinking it. He turned towards the small group gathering around him and put on the polite smile he reserved for interviews, charity events and people he would never willingly meet twice.

“Please excuse me,” he said. “I have an early meeting, and apparently even I am not allowed to cancel this one.”

They laughed.

They always laughed.

He raised the untouched glass in a brief gesture, handed it back to the confused waiter and walked away before anyone could stop him again.

His head of security noticed immediately.

Two men in black suits separated from the wall and followed him out of the ballroom. Edward heard their footsteps behind him as he crossed the marble lobby towards the private elevators.

“Stay downstairs,” he said.

The men stopped.

“Sir?” one of them asked.

“I won’t be leaving the hotel tonight.”

“We should check the room before you go inside.”

“No.”

A pause followed.

Edward pressed the elevator button.

“Is there a security concern we should know about?” the guard asked carefully.

Edward looked at him.

“There won’t be if you follow my instructions.”

The elevator doors opened.

Neither man tried to follow him inside.

Edward stepped in and pressed the button for the hotel’s restricted VIP floor. The doors closed, shutting out the noise of the gala.

Silence settled around him.

At last.

He loosened his tie and glanced at his watch.

11:43 p.m.

His jaw tightened slightly.

He was late.

Not by much, but enough to be considered rude.

The thought almost made him smile.

The elevator climbed smoothly past the public floors. Edward watched the numbers change above the doors while the faint music from the ballroom disappeared completely.

When the elevator reached the VIP level, it opened onto an empty corridor.

Only a limited number of guests could access this section of the hotel. The rooms were larger, the walls were thicker and the staff had been trained to see nothing they weren’t paid to see.

Edward walked towards Room 1708.

The corridor looked untouched. No open doors. No abandoned service carts. No strangers pretending to check their phones.

Nothing that would concern an ordinary guest.

Edward wasn’t an ordinary guest.

He noticed the security camera above the second doorway had shifted two degrees to the left.

He noticed a faint scratch beside the electronic panel of his door.

He noticed the thin black thread he had left near the bottom of the frame was gone.

Someone had entered his room.

Good.

He placed his key card against the lock.

The light turned green.

Edward opened the door and walked inside.

He didn’t reach for the light switch.

Moonlight entered through the uncovered windows, stretching pale shadows across the carpet. Rain moved against the glass, blurring the city lights outside.

The suite was quiet.

Too quiet.

Edward closed the door behind him and heard the lock slide into place.

He removed his jacket, placed it over the back of a chair and walked towards the minibar.

There were two glasses on the counter.

He took out a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink.

Then he filled the second glass.

“You took longer than expected,” he said.

No one answered.

Edward lifted his glass and took a small sip.

The whiskey burned pleasantly down his throat.

“I hope you weren’t bored.”

Still nothing.

He turned towards the windows.

At first glance, the room appeared empty. The bed had not been touched. The bathroom door stood partially open. The curtains moved slightly in the air from the vent.

But he could feel her watching him.

He knew she was close.

He also knew she was deciding whether to attack immediately or wait until he lowered his guard.

Unfortunately for her, Edward rarely lowered it.

He carried his drink towards the window and stopped with his back to the darkest corner of the room.

“You’re late,” a woman’s voice said behind him.

Edward smiled faintly.

So she wanted the first word.

He turned.

She stepped out of the shadows near the bathroom.

Her black dress fell to her knees and looked elegant enough for the gala downstairs. Her dark hair was pinned up, though several loose strands framed her face. She wore no mask.

That surprised him.

A slim blade rested in her hand, held low beside her thigh.

Not a gun.

Interesting.

Her eyes moved across him, measuring the distance between them.

“You knew I was here,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

Edward held out the second glass.

“Drink?”

Her gaze flickered towards it before returning to his face.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been waiting.”

“I don’t drink while I’m working.”

“And this is work?”

Her fingers tightened around the blade.

“What else would it be?”

“A disappointing first date.”

Anger flashed in her eyes.

It disappeared so quickly that another man might have missed it.

Edward didn’t.

“You think this is funny?” she asked.

“No. If I thought it was funny, I would be laughing.”

“You dismissed your guards.”

“Yes.”

“You disabled the alarm in this room.”

“Yes.”

“You left the balcony door unlocked.”

“That wasn’t for you.”

Her expression shifted for the first time.

Only slightly.

But Edward saw the uncertainty.

She had entered through the balcony.

“You knew someone was coming,” she said.

“I usually know when someone plans to enter my room uninvited.”

“Then you should have run.”

“Would you have preferred that?”

“I would have found you.”

“I know.”

The certainty in his answer disturbed her more than the threat should have.

Edward placed both glasses on the table beside him.

She raised the knife.

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

“They’re already where you can see them.”

“Higher.”

He obeyed, lifting his hands slowly.

Her gaze tracked every movement. Her stance was balanced. Her grip was steady. She stood close enough to attack but far enough to respond if he rushed her.

She had been trained well.

Just not well enough.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

Edward remained still.

“I said turn around.”

“I heard you.”

“Then do it.”

“No.”

Her jaw tightened.

“You dismissed your security and walked into this room knowing I was here. That doesn’t make you brave.”

“What does it make me?”

“Stupid.”

“People rarely call me that to my face.”

“They probably want to stay alive.”

“And you don’t?”

Something changed in her eyes.

There it was.

Not fear.

Pain.

It appeared for less than a second, but it was deep enough to answer several questions Edward had carried into the room.

She didn’t expect to leave.

The person who had sent her had made sure of that.

Edward lowered his hands.

“Keep them up,” she warned.

“No.”

The blade rose.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“No. Do you?”

“Stop talking.”

“But we’ve barely been introduced.”

“I know exactly who you are.”

Edward took one step towards her.

She didn’t retreat.

“Edward Blackwood,” she said. “Chief executive of Blackwood Holdings. Owner of companies that exist on paper and buildings where people enter but aren’t recorded leaving. A man who buys judges, controls police investigations and destroys anyone who becomes inconvenient.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

“It sounds true.”

“Does it?”

She moved closer, the point of the blade aimed at his chest.

“I know what you’ve done.”

Edward looked at the weapon, then back at her face.

“No,” he said quietly. “You know what someone told you I’ve done.”

Her expression hardened.

“You don’t get to lie your way out of this.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“You murdered people who couldn’t defend themselves.”

“Who?”

The question struck her like an insult.

For the first time, her controlled breathing changed.

“You know who.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Why? So you can pretend you don’t remember?”

“So I can know which lie brought you into my room.”

The knife pressed against his shirt.

A lesser man might have stepped back.

Edward leaned closer.

Her breath caught.

He felt the point settle directly over his heart.

“You’re either very confident,” she whispered, “or completely insane.”

“I’ve been called both.”

“I could kill you before your guards reached the elevator.”

“They won’t come.”

“Because you ordered them not to?”

“Because they believe I’m alone.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“That was careless.”

“It was necessary.”

“For what?”

Edward looked at her hand.

“For this conversation.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t answer.

Rain struck the windows harder. Somewhere below them, thunder rolled over the city.

Edward could smell the faint trace of her perfume now. It was nothing like the suffocating sweetness of the woman downstairs. This was quieter, mixed with rain and the cold night air she had carried in from the balcony.

He had imagined this meeting more times than he wanted to admit.

None of those imagined versions had included the tension in her shoulders or the exhaustion hidden beneath her anger.

Whoever had prepared her for tonight had given her enough truth to make the lie believable.

“Move away from the table,” she ordered.

Edward took a slow step sideways.

Her gaze followed him.

“Towards the window.”

He moved again.

She stayed close.

Too close.

“Are you planning to push me through it?” he asked.

“The glass doesn’t open.”

“You checked.”

“I check everything.”

“Not everything.”

Her attention shifted towards the door for half a second.

Edward moved.

He caught her wrist before the blade could reach him.

She reacted immediately.

Her free hand drove towards his throat. He blocked it with his forearm, but she twisted out of his grip and struck him hard in the ribs.

Pain flashed through his side.

Better than expected.

Edward barely avoided the blade as it cut through the air beside his neck.

She kicked at his knee.

He turned, caught her around the waist and used her momentum to drive her against the wall.

A framed painting shook beside them.

She slammed her elbow back into his chest.

Edward lost his grip.

She spun and brought the knife up again.

This time, he caught her wrist with both hands.

They struggled between the wall and the table, neither willing to give the other enough space to gain control.

The whiskey glasses fell.

One shattered against the floor.

Her heel slid on the spilled drink, but she recovered quickly and drove her shoulder into him. Edward struck the edge of the table and felt the corner dig into his back.

She raised the knife.

He caught her arm and turned them both, pinning her wrist against the wall above her head.

Her other hand reached beneath her dress.

Edward trapped it before she could pull out the second weapon.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their breathing filled the room.

Her body was pressed between him and the wall, but there was nothing helpless about the way she looked at him. Rage burned in her eyes. Beneath it sat frustration, calculation and something she would probably deny even to herself.

Awareness.

Edward felt it too.

That made the situation considerably more dangerous.

“Get off me,” she said.

“If I do, you’ll try again.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for being honest.”

“Enjoy it while you can.”

He looked at the blade still trapped in her hand.

“You planned to make it look like a robbery?”

“Maybe.”

“No. You wouldn’t have worn that dress for a robbery.”

Her eyes turned colder.

“You were downstairs.”

“So were you.”

He saw the realization the moment it reached her.

She had believed herself invisible among the crowd.

“You saw me at the gala,” she said.

“I saw you enter through the eastern doors at ten twenty-six.”

Her breathing stopped.

“You stood beside the second pillar for seven minutes. Then you spoke to a waiter, switched his access card and entered the staff corridor. You changed clothes on the sixteenth floor and reached my balcony at eleven fourteen.”

The anger in her face gave way to disbelief.

“You watched me the entire time.”

“Not the entire time.”

“How long have you known?”

Edward released one of her hands and slowly removed the second knife from the hidden sheath beneath her dress. He placed it on the table behind him.

She could have tried to fight again.

She didn’t.

She wanted the answer more.

“Edward.”

It was the first time she had said his name without hatred surrounding every syllable.

He preferred it that way.

“How long?” she repeated.

“Long enough.”

“Did you know I was coming to this hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know why?”

“Yes.”

“Then why am I still standing here?”

Edward loosened his grip but didn’t step away.

“Because I need you alive.”

A humorless laugh escaped her.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No. Not yet.”

She tried to pull her wrist free.

He released it.

The sudden freedom surprised her, but she covered it quickly. She stepped away and placed the table between them.

Edward made no attempt to stop her.

“Call your guards,” she said.

“I told you. They’re not coming.”

“Then what happens now?”

“That depends on you.”

“I came here to kill you.”

“And you failed.”

Her face tightened.

“I haven’t finished.”

“Yes, you have.”

He reached inside his shirt.

She immediately lifted her knife again.

Edward pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table.

She stared at it.

“What is that?”

“The message your employer sent after you entered the hotel.”

“I don’t have an employer.”

“Handler, then. Commander. Master. Choose whichever word makes you feel less controlled.”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing.”

“Read it.”

She didn’t move.

Edward unfolded the paper and turned it towards her.

The message was short.

Confirm entry. Remove the asset after Blackwood is dead. No witnesses.

Her gaze stopped on the second sentence.

Something inside her expression broke.

Only for a moment.

Then the walls returned.

“That could be fake.”

“It could.”

“You expect me to trust evidence you conveniently placed in your own room?”

“No. I expect you to verify it.”

“With whom?”

“The man who sent you.”

Her eyes lifted to his.

“You know who sent me?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“You already know his name. What you don’t know is why he chose you.”

Her hand remained around the knife, but the point had lowered.

Edward reached for his glass before remembering it was shattered on the floor.

“I was supposed to be your target,” he continued. “You were supposed to enter this room, kill me and disappear before midnight.”

“That was the mission.”

“No. That was the story they gave you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A mission gives you a way out.”

Silence followed.

Thunder shook the windows.

She looked down at the message again.

For the first time since she had stepped from the shadows, Edward saw uncertainty overpower her anger.

“You’re lying,” she said, but her voice was quieter now.

“Then leave.”

Her gaze snapped back to him.

“What?”

“The door is behind you. The alarm is disabled. My guards won’t stop you because they don’t know you’re here.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“I’m giving you a choice.”

She stared at him as though freedom were another trap.

Perhaps, in her life, it always had been.

“If I walk out,” she said, “what will you do?”

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“For you to discover that I’m telling the truth.”

“And then?”

“You’ll come back.”

Her fingers tightened around the knife.

“To kill you?”

Edward stepped around the table.

She raised the blade again, but this time she didn’t attack.

He stopped just beyond its reach.

The anger in her eyes was still there. So was the hatred someone else had carefully built inside her. But now doubt lived beside it.

That was enough for tonight.

Edward lowered his voice.

“No, darling.”

He glanced at the message on the table and then looked directly into her eyes.

“You’ll come back because by morning, you’ll understand that I was never