"No," she said softly, the quiver in her voice finally making me look up at her.
Fear was swimming in the pools of tears in her eyes. My eyes trailed over the rest of her body. Her knees were buckling. A dazed, shocked expression took the place of the fear when our eyes met again.
"s**t. Thank God," I said more calmly, taking her little body into my arms and squeezing her hard. "Daddy's sorry, baby girl. I panicked. I didn't send you roses, Olive," I explained, rubbing her back reassuringly.
I was so relieved she f*****g had me thanking God, the nihilistic asshole that I was.
"So?" she ventured, the bite in her tone soothing me. "Maybe they're compliments of—"
"You can thank Sy for those. The play's called Roses and Blood. Thorns on the roses are likely poisoned. One little prick
