Page 141 of Embriagado

Her cheeks flushed slightly redder, and I doubted it had anything to do with the makeup she’d applied more than usual today. To her, I was her charming manager. If only she knew that she was blushing in the presence of a once whore, now turned killer.

You’ll die an ugly, lonely death, just like the rest of us.

If my own mother had seen right through me, it was only a matter of time before the rest of them would, too.

“Merry Christmas, Ms. Clark,” I said to her, the words leaving a foul taste in my mouth.

“The hotel looks lovely,” she said while running her fingers through her blonde hair.

As she did, I noticed her long, red manicured nails.

Mother had red nails the day she died.

In fact, even when her skin had already turned stiff and gray, her nails were still bright red, as if she’d just painted them.

“Do you have any plans for the holiday?” Ms. Clark asked, invading my memory. “I-if not, there’s a Christmas festival⁠—”

“I’ll be working all weekend.” I flashed her another forced smile. “But I hope you’ll enjoy your time at the festival.”

Ignoring the vivid disappointment on her face, I excused myself and went straight to my office.

At last, some peace and quiet.

And while I had to start sending invitations to our next party, the thought alone felt like something had stuck in my throat, so I skipped my desk and instead went over to the leather couch, where I lay down. Placing one hand on my forehead and the other on my lower abdomen, I closed my eyes. Too many unnecessary thoughts were occupying my mind, from her stiff skin to her red nails and the horrible smell of decomposition mixed with rotten peaches. I scrunched up my nose because even now, I still smelled it, the reek of death. It made my stomach coil, and I squeezed my eyes harder, only to see those little white maggots crawling out of everywhere.

I hoped working would keep me too busy to remember, but I guess no amount of work would ever be enough.

You’ll die an ugly, lonely death, just like the rest of⁠—

A knock on my door made me open my eyes, and I quickly sat up.

A second later, the door burst open, and in walked Mr. Rivas, his eyes meeting mine in an instant.

“Were you resting?” he asked, thick brows pulling together and full lips curling into his familiar crooked smile that showed off his one dimple.

How annoying.

“I was just lying down for a moment.”

“Why? You sick or somethin’?”

“No.”

“Want me to get you some water?”

“No need.”

“But if you feel bad⁠—”

“Just shut up,” I grunted while getting up.

Thankfully, he did. But what annoyed me even more than his existence at the moment were the carols coming from outside.

“Would you close the door?”

His brows rose, and it seemed like he’d gotten the wrong idea.

“Someone recovered quickly.”