When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
*Rose* “Drugged?” I repeat Tristan’s word out loud, mostly to myself. It makes sense, considering how awful Mark looks, but I’m worried. After all, the chef was drugged—poisoned—and she died. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask. “Probably,” Eli assures me, his hand on my shoulder. “It’s probably some kind of a roofie, something that was meant to make him sleep so she could set it up like they were having sex.” “But, I have to wonder, the way that Barbara was all worked up, maybe she was supposed to give him something else, too,” Reece says. I look at him in surprise. “Like what?” I ask. “Like some kind of aphrodisiac,” Tristan responds for Reece. “Maybe she accidentally gave it to herself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Goes to show that even the best-laid plans don’t always result in an