THE CEO’S TOY
I tried to smile at the nickname, but this wasn't the time for humor.
Me: I'm about to.
I replied and tucked my phone back in my bag.
When I entered the lounge area of the track, Lucy was sitting in the middle of the room, a lollipop in her mouth and her nerve-cracking smile plastered on her lips. If murder weren’t illegal, I’d have pressed her neck until those lips begged for mercy.
With powerful strides, I approached her, concealing any sign of nervousness, and sat across from her.
She poured alcohol into a glass and pushed it toward me. I raised an eyebrow. Did she really think I'd drink it? Who knows if she hadn’t poisoned it?
Bab Populer