Chapter 1813:
“How does it taste?” Christina asked, deflecting the question with a calm, faintly amused look.
Something about that look made Irene’s smile falter. There was an edge to it — sharp and knowing — that sent a chill through her. She chose her next words with care.
“Is it not to your liking?” Christina pressed.
Irene shook her head quickly. “It’s quite good, actually. You really should try it.”
“In that case, you’re wee to mine as well,” Christina said, extending the ss toward her.
Irene went still. She had expected Christina to drink at least a little — not to stand there, untouched ss in hand, offering it back. Irene knew exactly what was in both sses. She had already finished one, and the thought of drinking the second made her stomach turn with dread.
She produced a strained smile. “Oh, I’ve had more than enough. Please, enjoy it yourself.” She reached out and plucked a fresh ss from the tray of a passing waiter. “I’ll have this one instead.” She tapped it against Christina’s. “Cheers.”
Violette had briefed her thoroughly on the drug’s timeline. Irene knew she had a narrow window to steer Christina somewhere secluded before it took hold. A man was waiting in the shadows to take Christina somewhere she would not return from.
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Christina watched in silence as Irene tipped back the second ss and finished it.
“Why aren’t you drinking?” Irene asked. The confidence in her voice had thinned, reced by something uneasy.
Christina’s smile remained exactly as it was — calm, unhurried, and quietly knowing. “I’m waiting,” she said softly.
“Waiting for what?” Irene asked. Her heart was beginning to beat too fast.
Christina leaned forward slightly, her smile unhurried. “I’m just waiting for some good news,” she said.
“What kind of good news?” Irene asked, momentarily thrown. “Does it have anything to do with you finishing that wine?”
“Not exactly,” Christina answered in an easy, rxed tone, swirling the liquid slowly in her ss.
Irene fought to keep the frustration off her face. Her only task was to get Christina to drink the wine before the window closed. If the drug’s timeline ran out before the n was in motion, everything would unravel.
“Are you still angry with me?” Irene asked, letting her eyes fill with a convincing shimmer of tears.
Christina found the performance almost amusing. She already knew precisely what wasing.
“Of course not. I’ve forgiven youpletely,” Christina said, her expression shifting to one of gentle concern. “What’s the matter? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
Irene pressed the act further. “I just feel like you won’t drink the wine I offered as a gesture of goodwill. It makes me wonder if you’re still holding a grudge.”
“Why would you think that?” Christina replied. “If I were still angry, I would have behaved very differently.”
“What do you mean?” Irene asked, without thinking.
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