She takes another step. The gun is now pressed against her sternum. She doesn't flinch.
Her name was Celeste. She had appeared three weeks ago at his casino, a shimmering ghost in a crimson dress. She lost at his blackjack table with a grace that felt like winning. She laughed at his jokes with a delay that suggested she was savoring them. She touched his arm—just once—with fingertips so cold they left a brand. Lethal Seduction
“It’s not personal, Marco,” she said, picking up his whiskey glass to wipe it clean. “It’s just that the deadliest poison doesn’t come in a vial.” She takes another step