Chapter 2 - The Velvet PoisonAt 8:00 AM the following morning, I sat at the long marble island in the Casaro Manor kitchen, wearing one of Nico’s oversized silk shirts over my shorts, slowly sipping green tea.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my face was a mask of placid, naive serenity.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase. Nico walked into the kitchen, wearing a gray cashmere sweater and sweatpants. He looked sleek, handsome, and utterly repulsive.
He walked up behind me, leaning down to press a kiss against the side of my neck.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to slam my mug into his jaw, but I forced myself to tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.
"Morning, beautiful," Nico murmured, his voice laced with that smooth, effortless arrogance I had once mistaken for confidence. "You fell asleep early last night. I came back to my room around midnight and you were gone."
"I had a migraine," I lied softly, turning my head to look him in the eye. I searched his face for any flicker of guilt, any trace of shame. There was none. Just the triumphant gleam of a predator who thought his prey was completely trapped. "I went to the guest bedroom down the hall so I wouldn't disturb you."
"Ah, sweet girl," Nico smiled, running his thumb over my bottom lip. "Always thinking of me. Listen... Chloe is coming over at noon. She offered to take you dress shopping for the Winter Gala next month."
"Did she?" I asked, taking a slow sip of tea. "How thoughtful of her. She really is a great friend."
"The best," Nico chuckled, stepping over to the espresso machine. "Oh, by the way... my dad wants us to have dinner with him in his private dining room tonight. Just the three of us. He said we need to discuss the trust transfer for my birthday."
"Oh?" I feigned surprise. "Mr. Casaro usually eats alone."
"Well, the old man is finally realizing he’s getting old," Nico scoffed, leaning against the counter as his espresso brewed. "He knows he needs me to run the docks. Without me, the board won't sign off on the new expansion. I'm practically holding the keys to the castle, Myra. And once the trust is signed over on my birthday... you and I are going to take a three-month vacation to Amalfi."
To Amalfi, I thought. With ten thousand dollars of bet money in your pocket.
"That sounds wonderful, Nico," I purred.
At precisely twelve o'clock, the front doorbell rang.
I opened the door myself to find Chloe standing on the porch. She wore a tailored beige trench coat, designer sunglasses pushed up onto her blonde hair, and held two iced lattes. She looked like the picture-perfect best friend.
"Myra!" Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around me.
I held my breath as her arms wrapped around my shoulders, smelling the faint trace of Nico’s expensive sandalwood cologne lingering on the collar of her coat. She hadn't even washed it off.
"I brought your favorite—vanilla oat latte!" Chloe gushed, pulling back to look at me. Her sharp blue eyes swept over my pale face, examining me for any sign of distress. "Nico said you weren't feeling well last night. Are you okay, sweetie? You look a little tired."
"Just stressed about the Gala," I smiled, stepping aside to let her in. "Nico wants everything to be perfect. You know how important his birthday is."
"Oh, I know," Chloe said, a flash of secret, venomous amusement dancing in her eyes. "It’s going to be an unforgettable night. Trust me."
We walked up to my dressing room on the second floor. For two hours, Chloe pulled lavish gowns from the racks, commenting on fabrics, helping me zip up silk dresses, and playing the devoted confidante.
"You know, Myra," Chloe said casually as she adjusted the hem of a dark emerald dress I was trying on. "Nico is so lucky to have you. Most girls in our circle are so demanding. But you... you're so easy to please. So grateful."
"I have a lot to be grateful for," I said, watching her reflection in the full-length mirror as she crouched behind me. "Nico saved my dad's life. I'd do anything for him."
Chloe’s hands paused on my waist for a fraction of a second. In the mirror, I saw her lips curl into a small, cruel smile she couldn't suppress.
"That's so sweet," Chloe murmured, standing up. "Unconditional loyalty. It's so rare these days."
Suddenly, the dressing room door swung open.
Leo Casaro stepped into the room.
He was impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his silver-touched hair combed back cleanly. His presence immediately sucked all the air out of the room.
Chloe froze, her posture instantly straightening, her eyes widening with a mixture of fear and deep-seated caution. Her father was a law enforcement officer; she knew exactly who Leo Casaro was.
"Mr. Casaro," Chloe said quickly, dipping her head. "Good afternoon."
Leo didn't even look at her. His gray eyes went straight to me, reflecting in the mirror.
"Myra," Leo said, his deep voice commanding total absolute silence. "The emerald dress is too soft for you. Wear the navy silk tonight for dinner. I have invited your father."
Chloe gasped softly. "Frank is coming here?"
Leo finally cut his icy gaze toward Chloe, examining her as if she were a insect beneath a microscope.
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"Frank Miller is a honored guest of this family, Miss Vance," Leo said coldly. "Which is more than I can say for unexpected visitors who linger in my hallway after midnight."
Chloe’s face drained of every drop of color.
