Page 68 of Stay Toxic

I’m sore everywhere, and wince as I sit up.

“Yeah, well, I figured better in the morning than last night. But I don’t want to leave this longer.”

I brace myself, preparing for the worst. Whatever it is, I can take it. If he wants to break up with me, I wouldn’t be surprised, given all my baggage. I’ll thank him for everything he did for me, and move on. Be mature about it. I can absolutely do that.

Right?

“Okay.”

“I killed your mother last night.”

Seconds pass, dragging, and the words echo in my mind, again and again. They don’t make sense.

“What?”

“You’ll see another reason why she died, but I need you to know it was me. I can give you the details, if you want to hear them. The point is, she didn’t suffer.” He stands. “I’m not a violent person by nature, but she needed to go. Because of what she did to you in the past, but mostly because she was a danger to you now. She sent that guy after you, and she wasn’t going to stop. So I removed the problem.”

I can’t speak. I just stare.

I can’t make sense of the many feelings flooding my mind, from disbelief to elation and a sheer, bone-shaking sense of relief.

She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s dead. And he did it. For me.

It occurs to me that these are not the feelings I should have about my boyfriend telling me he killed my mother. I should be horrified. Maybe call the cops. But well, she raised me, so it’s only fitting that my sense of right and wrong is a bit askew.

If a wishing well had appeared in front of me and asked me for my heart’s greatest desire, I would have said, “Be rid of Senator Cole.” And it was only going to happen one way.

Maybe it’s the fact that I heard Rob openly discuss my murder with his girlfriend, but I’m not shocked by the idea of someone removing someone else from this earth for logical gain. Only this time, it was to my benefit.

“I know that’s a lot. You probably hate me for it. And if you don’t want anything to do with me, I get it. I will. I mean, I’ll absolutely keep bugging you until you change your mind, but I get it.”

“I don’t hate you,” I have to say, to make that crystal clear.

Not a single bit.

I love the fuck out of him, in fact.

“I…thank you. I don’t know how to thank you for that. I mean, it’s fucked up, and messy, and wrong, and I never would have actually asked you to do something like that, but I’m so damn grateful.”

“Aren’t you scared of me?”

I have to think about that for a moment. If someone had asked yesterday if I thought Sebastian capable of murder, I would have likely said no, but that wouldn’t have been the entire truth. I saw him as someone absolutely capable of getting rid of someone for logical, sensible reasons. He’s just not the kind to kill for fun.

“You don’t have anything to gain or anyone to protect by killing me, so no.”

But if someone did anything to mark themselves as his enemy? They should be scared.

He smiles. “I guess now’s not the time to ask you to marry me, huh?”

30

I didn’t hear him right. There’s no way he just said what I thought he said.

“Loretta had to go; she wasn’t going to give up her control of you. But you’re not inheriting for another three years, and there are always people who will want to use you. The terms of your trust are that you get the money when you’re twenty-five or when you marry, right? So, marry me. Cut out the trustee, the middleman, the potentially bloodthirsty spouse. Get your hands on what’s yours now.”

“So you can chuck me out of your yacht during our honeymoon and sail off into the sunset, rather than Robert and Chrissy doing it?”

I regret my words as soon as I say them, but marrying me has always been a means to an end for everyone else. Why not him? Honestly, it would make sense.