Sweet Little Lies

Chapter Forty-Three

Finally, after another thirty-five minutes, he showed up. He was in his usual pinstripe suit, gold cufflinks at his wrists as he straightened his tie. Patrick was always handsome, gorgeous even, but lately he had aged.

So had she, lines on her face deeper than ever, the grey in her hair becoming harder to keep up with. They were in their fifties now and showing their age.

"There you are." She drawled, sitting back in the armchair, gliding her fingertips up and down the condensation on her glass of vodka. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

He gave her a dry look, motioning for a drink from the bartender. "If you're so desperate you need me two nights in a row, then you should adjust your expectations. I have things to do."

"This isn't about that." She snapped, "I was attacked last night."

"You were with me last night."

"I am talking about a factory of mine." Isabella clenched the arm of her chair.

He looked mildly interested at that. "And what does this factory of yours produce?"

"Apparently, corpses."

An eyebrow raised, "Do tell."

"Someone slaughtered my people, fifty of them, then burned the building to the ground." She told him, "And somehow they stalled the fire department to get there after everything was already gone."

"Look on the bright side," he smirked at her, "you don't need to worry about the police seizing your products. I'm guessing they're not quite legal."

He was trying to piss her off even more, and it was working.

"Go fuck yourself, Patrick." She leaned forward, "Get off your high horse and realize what this means."

"And what does it mean?"

"It means," she bit out, "that this Cain that everyone's talking about is making his move. You're not far behind if he's attacking us."

Patrick actually had the gall to laugh.

Her eyes narrowed, "What?"

"You really think we're on the same playing field?"

A coldness seeped down her spine.

"Yes."

He gave her a pitying look, "Isabella..."

"Don't condescend me."

Patrick sighed, "You and I both know we aren't the same, Izzy. You're an easy spoke in the wheel to target."

"Are you saying I'm weak?" Isabella asked coldly.

"Are you saying you aren't?"

They stared at each other hard, neither flinching. The cold look in his eyes unnerved her. There was something off about him tonight. Patrick was always cold, but lately it was something different. Much different.

He looked away, "You think it was Cain?"

"Who else would it be?" She asked, still studying him.

He didn't answer that.

She tried a different tactic. "I was supposed to be there last night. At the factory." Green eyes flew back to hers. "Until you called me."

"Are you insinuating something?"

"I'm simply pointing it out."

"Right."

Isabella didn't think Patrick was responsible for what happened. She did think it was curious, though.