Page 6 of Crimson Sin
“What exactly happens at this event?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.
“Appearances. Dinner. Social obligations. Nothing more.”
She brushes her thumb over my name on the card, and I can already tell she'll accept. Not tonight. She's too smart to makesuch a significant decision impulsively. But soon. The need in her eyes when she talks about her exhibit, and the desperation barely hidden beneath her professional composure, tells me everything I need to know.
“This is insane,” she murmurs, but she doesn't put the card down.
“Sanity is overrated,” I reply smoothly.
“How do I know you're not some kind of criminal?”
The question hits closer to home than she could possibly know. I keep my expression neutral, giving nothing away.
“You don't. But you can research me. Research my company. Make your own decisions.”
She nods slowly, still turning the card over in her fingers. “And if I say yes?”
“Then we both get what we want.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you continue struggling for funding while I find another solution.”
It's not a threat, just a statement of fact. But I can see her debating the options, measuring the risks against the potential rewards. She's smart, and her intelligence will serve her well if she decides to accept my offer.
“I need to think about it,” she says softly, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Of course.”
I raise my glass, noting that she hasn't touched her wine since I made my proposition. “To idealists willing to take risks.”
She hesitates for a moment, then clinks her glass against mine. The sound is delicate and musical, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.
“To risks that might actually pay off,” she whispers.
And I know, without question, that I've just opened the first page of a story I won't be able to close. Whatever happens next, Naomi Carter has already begun to change the trajectory of my carefully ordered life. The question is whether that change will be her salvation or her destruction.
3
NAOMI
I shut the apartment door behind me and lean against it like I've just run a marathon. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I walked away from Daniil Zorin. Or maybe it started racing the moment I met him, and it just never slowed down. Either way, it's still pounding as I kick off my heels and head toward the kitchen, where the scent of vanilla candles and leftover takeout greets me.
My legs feel unsteady, and I have to grip the kitchen counter to maintain my balance. The conversation with Daniil plays on repeat in my mind like a broken record. His voice was low and commanding. His ice-gray eyes seemed to see straight through me. The way he dismissed my actual date with a roll of cash, as if he were buying a newspaper.
Charlotte is curled on our vintage velvet couch, a glass of rosé in one hand and her phone in the other. Her blonde hair is twisted into a messy bun, pink-tipped strands falling around her face in soft waves. She looks up when she hears me, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“You're back early. Please tell me you didn't spill anything in your date’s lap.”
I drop my bag on the kitchen table and stare at her, still too stunned to speak. The business card feels like it's burning a hole in my purse, and I can't decide if I want to throw it away or frame it. Time slows as she sets her glass down and swings her legs around, giving me her full attention.
“Nae,” she declares slowly. “What happened?”
I make my way to the couch and sit beside her, tucking my legs under me. The familiar comfort of our living room, with its mismatched furniture and overflowing bookshelves, feels surreal after the polished elegance of the restaurant. Everything here is warm and lived-in, a vivid opposite to the cool sophistication that seemed to radiate from Daniil Zorin.
The words come out in a rush, like a dam breaking. I tell her everything, from mistaking the wrong man for Adam, to pitching my heart and soul to a stranger who listened without interruption, to realizing too late that the man with the ice-gray eyes wasn't my blind date. I tell her about Daniil Zorin. About Obsidian Vault International. About the insane proposal.
“He wants me to pretend to be his wife for a weekend. In exchange, he'll fund the entire exhibit. All of it.”
