Chapter 2 - The Golden Leash
Derek Calloway arrived at my penthouse thirty minutes later.
Through the peephole, I watched him smooth down the collar of his tailored jacket, practice a solemn, concerned expression, and check his reflection in the polished brass of the elevator door. He believed he was stepping into an easy victory—a tearful, compromised woman ready to fall into his arms and hand him the keys to Lucas’s fifty-million-dollar hypercar.
Before I opened the door, a cascade of glowing translucent letters flickered across my peripheral vision:
*Look at him practicing his puppy-dog eyes. Disgusting.*
*Derek’s left cufflink contains a high-definition pinhole camera connected to Lucas’s private server.*
*He plans to pour her a glass of water laced with liquid GHB to make sure she can't remember the details tomorrow morning.*
I adjusted my silk robe, making sure my shoulder remained casually exposed, and mussed my hair just enough to look disoriented. Then, I turned the latch.
"Derek..." I breathed, leaning against the doorframe as if my legs could barely support my weight. "Thank you for coming. I didn't know who else to call."
"Sophia, hey, take it easy." Derek’s voice was velvet smooth, dripping with faux tenderness as his hands came up to steady my waist. "Lucas had business meetings he couldn't leave. He asked me to check on you. Let’s get you inside."
He led me toward the living room sofa, his gaze already sweeping the high-end apartment with calculating greed. On the glass coffee table sat an uncorked bottle of vintage Pinot Noir and two crystal glasses. One was already half-full.
"Sit down, I'll fetch you some water," Derek offered gently, slipping off his jacket and draping it deliberately over the arm of the chair facing the sofa. The left cufflink faced directly toward the cushions.
"No, I don't want water," I mumbled, pressing a hand to my forehead. "The wine... I poured it to settle my nerves, but my head is spinning. Drink with me, Derek. Just talk to me until Lucas comes home."
He hesitated, then offered a warm, indulgent smile. "If it makes you feel better, just one sip."
He reached for the bottle, pouring himself a generous measure into the second glass. What Derek didn't know—and what the comments had whispered to me while I waited—was that the Pinot Noir had already been decanted with a heavy dose of veterinary tranquilizers, normally reserved for my father's thoroughbred racehorses.
*Drink it, you arrogant vulture,* a crimson-tinted comment drifted across my vision. *He thinks he’s the hunter.*
Derek raised his glass to his lips, watching me over the rim with dark, hungry eyes. "To feeling better, Sophia."
He swallowed half the glass in one go.
I didn't blink. I sat upright, the weakness draining from my posture like water through sand. My spine straightened, my chin lifted, and the trembling in my hands vanished completely.
Derek set the glass down, chuckling softly. "You know, Lucas really doesn't appreciate you. If you were mine—" He paused, blinking hard. He shook his head once, then twice. "Wait... what did you..."
"Fifty million dollars," I said calmly, my voice crisp and clear. "That's how much Lucas's custom Koenigsegg is worth, isn't it?"
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Derek froze. His pupils dilated rapidly, the tranquilizer hitting his bloodstream with ruthless speed. "What are you... talking about?"
"The bet, Derek." I stood up, walked over to his jacket, and calmly plucked the cufflink from his sleeve. I held it between my fingers, smiling straight into the lens. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"
