Page 1 of Goldsin

CHAPTER ONE

AURELIA

Wolfsbane.

Such a delicate flower for something so lethal.

It took me weeks to learn every aspect of the plant—how much to use, how long it would take for the poison to start to work, and howuntraceableit is.

Then it took me even longer to persuade Valentine, my adoptive father and the only person who knows of my revenge plan, to order me some through his network.

And not because he didn’t want me to kill DeMarco, but because he wasn’t too excited by the idea of using poison. He preferred brutality and wanted to see me stab him to death.

Valentine was just projecting his boredom onto my plan. Once I showed him all the information I’d gathered about the plant online, he decided using wolfsbane would make the cleanup easier, help him erase any trace of my presence at the scene.

At the end of the day, attention to detail is everything when it comes to murder.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the slosh of liquid as I sway the vial between my fingers. How can something so innocent-looking be the vile solution to my problems?

I mix a few drops into his drink while he’s busy, probably stroking his ego, in the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror is the only person he’ll ever truly love in this life.

“Cheers.” My lips curve to the side as I lift my glass and slip the vial back into my purse just as he comes out.

“Are we going to toast or what?” His raucous voice attacks my senses, hairy fingers eager as they clasp the flute.

“Of course,” I say with faux sweetness. “To new beginnings.”

Standing in front of me is the powerful Vincent DeMarco. Not so powerful, with the way I’ve been playing him the whole afternoon. It didn’t take me long to seduce him into bringing me to his hotel room just a few floors above the Harrows’ fundraiser, which we’ll be attending soon. Well, I will. He’ll be dead by then.

He was drinking by himself at the hotel bar, deep in his third glass of scotch, when I appeared at his side pretending to order my drink. He didn’t wait long to strike up conversation, and after a few sways of my hips and whispers of sweet nothings in his ear, he invited me up to his room.

Eleanora, my best friend, was right: give men a shallow version of yourself, and they’ll become enslaved to it.

A smug grin stretches his lips as he peeks at me over the rim of his glass.

He thinks I’m just another dumb bitch he’ll get to take to bed—one who approached him for his money. He thinks I’ll be easy to manipulate and use on his own terms, because I laugh at his dry jokes and touch his arm here and there.

He thinks he’s one step ahead of me.

If only he knew.

I take a small sip from my glass, the sweet taste of champagne dancing on my tongue. While the bitter taste of wolfsbane pierces his.

He would have tasted it if he hadn’t swallowed most of the drink so fast.

The clear liquid I mixed with his champagne is enough to kill him twice.

“Ah, that’s the stuff,” he grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like the true head of South Seattle’s drug distribution he is.

They don’t really teach you manners when you’re part of the Inferno Consortium. Well, they don’t teach you manners if you’re amanin the Inferno Consortium, the secret society of powerful families who launder money from their legitimate businesses.

Only, that’s not all they do.

His broad shoulders stoop and he threads his fingers through his slicked-back dark hair as his eyes roam over my body. As if he owns it. Owns me for the night.

I feign a smile as I try to hide my disgust.

Just a few more minutes and no one will ever have toexperience his eyes burning down their skin, the sickening feeling it leaves you with, again.

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