I breathed a little easier without that goddamned device in my neck. Once I found Peyton, then I would feel a hell of a lot better. Correction. After I put an end to Margaux’s trifling ass, then my life could go back to its semblance of normalcy. Question was, what would it look like?
According to Aaron, I couldn’t just run back to Paris without Peyton. Would she welcome me or be pissed that I returned? Faking my death was a shitty move, but it had to be done. I’d learned shit about Daniels that made working for the asshat difficult. But would Peyton understand?
I’d worry about it when the time came. Dealing with Margaux was my first priority.
As long as I could keep my neck covered up with a hoodie, she’d have no clue that her chemical leash had been removed. Which meant no sex with her. A sacrifice I was willing to make.
At that moment, however, my concern was to keep Margaux’s suspensions at bay. It was bad enough that I’d been gone most of the day. If it had been up to Oliver, I’d still be lying on that damned cot, but I had a role to play. Finding Peyton required it.
“Where have you been?” Margaux sat on the side of the bed with her arms and legs crossed.
I lifted the greasy white bag. “Picked up some food. Did some more reconnaissance. Those things take time when people think you’re dead.” I felt like shit. Whatever the doc knocked me out with was still kicking my ass. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Margaux plastered on a smile and said, “Thank God, I’m starving. Why don’t you take a shower?”
It was time to pour on my charm. Anything to keep her from figuring out the puzzle.
I dropped the bag on the table and pushed up the sleeves of the hoodie. “I’m guessing you want something more than food.”
Her eyes slowly raked over me. “I do. Unless you need something—”
Stalling the inevitable, I said, “I ate hours ago. If you want me at my best, I could eat again. Not a burger though.”
Margaux’s gaze flickered toward the ceiling. “Would a steak do?”
“Yeah. There’s a seafood and steak restaurant about four minutes away. Get the eighteen ounce and a baked potato.”
She stood and looked around for her purse. “You’re certain they have that?”
“It’s Secaucus, baby. Remember? My hometown? Do you want me to recite the menu?”
Margaux rolled her eyes and headed for the door.
“I’ll be in the bathroom. Let me know when you get back.” I was counting on the restaurant being busy. It was early enough for dinner, but carryout would take at least twenty or thirty minutes.
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