The evil smile spread across her beautiful, full blood red lips. He would think he was getting away with it, but she would know the truth. She was secretly delighted. This had been years in coming. He deserved this, and it would be delicious.
Revenge is a dish best served on ice, she thought, trying to wipe the smile from her face as he turned around. She handed him a canapé from the tray she was carrying; they were served on ice. He was not the least bit suspicious of the razor sharp ice pick in her pocket.
She felt calm at last. Tonight, for the first time in seven years, she would sleep and sleep well. This had been a long time coming.
"These are delicious!" he said, exuberantly chewing another appetizer, his mouth full, crumbs getting caught in his beard, a bolus of food visible on his tongue.
This is my response to this writing prompt.
.