Read Online My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 4 Poisoned by Marita A. Hansen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marita A. Hansen
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fear deeply embedded on
his face, the boy no doubt thinking he’d done something
wrong.
“ Thierry,” I gritted out. “Go to
Frano’s room, check if he’s awake,” I said, already knowing he
wouldn’t be, but needing the boy out of the way. “And if he’s not,
stay with him until he is. He will need to know what has
happened.”
“ But I did everything
right,” he said, his voice wavering.
I glared at him, wanting to slap him for
speaking in front of the cooks. The women were now staring at him,
my fear that they would guess what he had done overwhelming. I had
to get him out of here. NOW.
I reached for him. He flinched away from
me, his tears now flowing freely. “Please don’t hurt me, please
don’t hurt me,” he cried.
“ Be quiet,” I growled, “and go
to Frano.”
“ But the men—”
“— had heart attacks.”
“ How can two have heart attacks
at the same time?” he said, looking at me as though I had tricked
him into killing both of them.
“ Lucky Donatelli was a heavy
drinker and smoker,” I answered, “and over fifty, and his father
was a frail man, so go up to Frano’s room and do as you’re
told.”
“ But—”
“ No buts!” I yelled, past my
tolerance with the young fool, who seemed to forget it was his neck
on the line as well as mine. “Go. Now!”
His gaze moved past me. I looked over my
shoulder at Alberto, who was now staring at us. I swallowed back my
terror, willing myself to stay calm. Alberto looked over at the
remaining Donatelli: Nino was still wailing over his father,
sending prayers up to a God who wasn’t listening. After a few
seconds, Alberto’s focus shifted to the table, appearing to
scrutinize it, then it returned to me. I could almost see his mind
ticking over, trying to work out what had happened, the two deaths
so sudden, two lives taken before our eyes in such a rush. Then his
gaze settled on Thierry. Shaking his head, Jagger’s brother shrank
back, looking utterly terrified. A second later, a roar came from
Alberto, telling me he’d worked out that Thierry had done
something.
I pushed Thierry into the
kitchen, yelling : “Run!” Thierry took off. I turned around, intending to
block Alberto, but he plowed into me, knocking me through the door
with such force that I was flung against the center bench. I yelled
out as my back hit the hard marble, pain jolting through me.
Alberto took off past me, running through the kitchen and out the
back door after Thierry. I pulled off my heels and pushed up, then
ran after Alberto, screaming at him not to hurt Thierry as I burst
through the back door.
Across the lawn, by the the gardener’s
shed, Alberto was holding Thierry up by the neck, the boy’s feet
not touching the ground.
I ran across the grass, yelling: “Let him
go!”
Alberto dropped him. Thierry fell into a
heap, crying his eyes out, and breaking my heart. Alberto pointed
at Thierry, yelling: “He tried to murder me!”
“ He did no such thing,” I said,
stopping next to him. “He’s just a boy.”
“ He poisoned the
drinks!”
“ I didn’t, I didn’t,”
Thierry sobbed.
Alberto turned back to him.
“Liar!”
“ I-I’m not,” Thierry said,
his hiccupping sobs affecting his speech.
Alberto bobbed down, putting his face
right up to Thierry’s. The boy pushed his head back against the
shed, his face a mask of terror.
“ Two people are dead!” Alberto
yelled in Thierry’s face. “And the only ones alive didn’t drink
the vino . Now, we’re going back inside and you’re going to drink
what’s left.” He grabbed Thierry and lifted him up. Thierry tried
to get away, but the boy was too small in comparison. Alberto threw
him over a shoulder and carried a screaming Thierry back to the
house.
Hope flared through me as I ran after
them, because I’d only poisoned one of the glasses, which meant
that Alberto would have to admit he was wrong.
Alberto stormed through the kitchen, the
cook and her assistant looking
his face, the boy no doubt thinking he’d done something
wrong.
“ Thierry,” I gritted out. “Go to
Frano’s room, check if he’s awake,” I said, already knowing he
wouldn’t be, but needing the boy out of the way. “And if he’s not,
stay with him until he is. He will need to know what has
happened.”
“ But I did everything
right,” he said, his voice wavering.
I glared at him, wanting to slap him for
speaking in front of the cooks. The women were now staring at him,
my fear that they would guess what he had done overwhelming. I had
to get him out of here. NOW.
I reached for him. He flinched away from
me, his tears now flowing freely. “Please don’t hurt me, please
don’t hurt me,” he cried.
“ Be quiet,” I growled, “and go
to Frano.”
“ But the men—”
“— had heart attacks.”
“ How can two have heart attacks
at the same time?” he said, looking at me as though I had tricked
him into killing both of them.
“ Lucky Donatelli was a heavy
drinker and smoker,” I answered, “and over fifty, and his father
was a frail man, so go up to Frano’s room and do as you’re
told.”
“ But—”
“ No buts!” I yelled, past my
tolerance with the young fool, who seemed to forget it was his neck
on the line as well as mine. “Go. Now!”
His gaze moved past me. I looked over my
shoulder at Alberto, who was now staring at us. I swallowed back my
terror, willing myself to stay calm. Alberto looked over at the
remaining Donatelli: Nino was still wailing over his father,
sending prayers up to a God who wasn’t listening. After a few
seconds, Alberto’s focus shifted to the table, appearing to
scrutinize it, then it returned to me. I could almost see his mind
ticking over, trying to work out what had happened, the two deaths
so sudden, two lives taken before our eyes in such a rush. Then his
gaze settled on Thierry. Shaking his head, Jagger’s brother shrank
back, looking utterly terrified. A second later, a roar came from
Alberto, telling me he’d worked out that Thierry had done
something.
I pushed Thierry into the
kitchen, yelling : “Run!” Thierry took off. I turned around, intending to
block Alberto, but he plowed into me, knocking me through the door
with such force that I was flung against the center bench. I yelled
out as my back hit the hard marble, pain jolting through me.
Alberto took off past me, running through the kitchen and out the
back door after Thierry. I pulled off my heels and pushed up, then
ran after Alberto, screaming at him not to hurt Thierry as I burst
through the back door.
Across the lawn, by the the gardener’s
shed, Alberto was holding Thierry up by the neck, the boy’s feet
not touching the ground.
I ran across the grass, yelling: “Let him
go!”
Alberto dropped him. Thierry fell into a
heap, crying his eyes out, and breaking my heart. Alberto pointed
at Thierry, yelling: “He tried to murder me!”
“ He did no such thing,” I said,
stopping next to him. “He’s just a boy.”
“ He poisoned the
drinks!”
“ I didn’t, I didn’t,”
Thierry sobbed.
Alberto turned back to him.
“Liar!”
“ I-I’m not,” Thierry said,
his hiccupping sobs affecting his speech.
Alberto bobbed down, putting his face
right up to Thierry’s. The boy pushed his head back against the
shed, his face a mask of terror.
“ Two people are dead!” Alberto
yelled in Thierry’s face. “And the only ones alive didn’t drink
the vino . Now, we’re going back inside and you’re going to drink
what’s left.” He grabbed Thierry and lifted him up. Thierry tried
to get away, but the boy was too small in comparison. Alberto threw
him over a shoulder and carried a screaming Thierry back to the
house.
Hope flared through me as I ran after
them, because I’d only poisoned one of the glasses, which meant
that Alberto would have to admit he was wrong.
Alberto stormed through the kitchen, the
cook and her assistant looking
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