Page 83 of From Hell

His explanation made sense.

Though, instead of feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, dread has settled like lead in the center of my chest, pulling me down in a cold ocean of fear. I have no idea how the partnership will work.

Jaxon is the Devil. And I’ve sold my soul to him.

But at what cost?

Still, it only took a night and day to plan the next murder, not like my six months of going back and forth inside my head, having no idea what I was doing. Jaxon is a well-oiled machine and a wealthy billionaire who can snap his fingers and call in a personal favor to get this booking at The Dorset, an exclusive member’s restaurant with a two-year waiting list, without question.

“You’d think you’d never been in a restaurant before,” Jaxon says under his breath as he pulls a chair out for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve not been to one like this.”

I’m underdressed in my black dress, the only one I have fancy enough for this place despite being second-hand and so obviously seasons old. Jaxon drove me home to grab some clothes. This was all I could find suitable for dinner. He took one look at me and sighed, handing me a black credit card from his wallet.

“Before next time, do a little shopping.”

“I didn’t think we were going to a fashion show,” I hiss at him, staring at the card before pocketing it.

He gives me a sardonic look. “Unfortunately, you stand out.”

“Why? Because it’s old?”

He looks over me from top to bottom, the intensity making my toes curl. “No, because you look too fuckable in that dress.”

Too fuckable. Those were Jaxon’s words.

I shed my gloves and nervously pick up my glass of water while Jaxon orders the most expensive bottle of wine off the menu. I expect him to order for me, but he doesn’t. Jaxon glances my way after the server asks what we’d like to eat. Under pressure, I pick the only thing I know I can stomach—the vegetarian option.

“Why are we eating here?” I say after the server brings over a bottle of rare Burgundy.

“Because I’m always hungry after a shift, little fox,” Jaxon says, his lips curling slightly.

Jaxon has been going to work the last couple of days to keep up appearances on the promise that I don’t leave the house. He also said that wherever I go, he would find me and drag me back, so there’s no point in running.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you remind me of one.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re saying I’m a pest?”

He sips his wine, the corner of his lips curving up while he savors it. Then he places his glass down and looks at me. “My father likes to fox hunt with his hounds on weekends. It’s a foul sport to watch, but there’s a sly vixen with a couple of cubs that always gets away. That’s the fox you remind me of.”

“Charming.” I taste the wine.

The intense flavor of berries bursts over my tongue, making me ravenous. Suddenly, I’m looking forward to the dinner. I haven’t been eating much lately. Jaxon has stacks of food in the house, mainly protein shakes and meat. But the last two weeks’ stress of not knowing who was following me, playing mind games, has taken its toll.

With its string quartet, incredible wine, and secluded dining, this swanky place could easily make me lower my guard. That’s probably why Jaxon has chosen it.

He doesn’t stalk his prey. He lures it into his lair.

When he told me the plan, it sounded insane but much less messy. Christian might fall for my online dating app ruse, but it leaves a digital breadcrumb. Better to wine and dine Christian somewhere he frequents, like the Grand Haven, where the owner is the heir of London’s most notorious crime family who just so happens to owe Jaxon a favor.

Our food arrives with all the trimmings, interrupting our pleasant and non-existent chat. Jaxon doesn’t do small talk, which suits me fine. I’m too on edge to talk. Once the server leaves, I reach under the table and grip my purse. I slipped the gun inside it before we left.

“Don’t look so nervous,” Jaxon drawls as though he can hear my pulse racing with every twitch of the curtain. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy.

I spear my stuffed artichoke. “What if someone recognizes you?”