3. Cold
1116 Words
CHAPTER THREE: COLD
SCARLET’S POV
When I stepped into my apartment, the first thing I heard was humming. Soft and steady, like a soundtrack to inner peace. Lydia, my housemate, best friend, and eternal chaos twin, was sitting cross-legged on the floor in full lotus pose, eyes shut, a serene smile on her lips.
Next to her?
Her very private, very hot yoga instructor. Shirtless. Sculpted. Focused. Seriously, how did she even manage to breathe, let alone meditate, with a whole Greek god stretching beside her?
“You cannot begin to imagine the day I’ve had,” I began, kicking off my heels at the door, my voice echoing slightly across the marble floor. “I suspected he was-”
“Shhh!” Lydia cut me off without even opening her eyes. “Can’t you see I’m doing yoga? Centering. Grounding. Respect the vibe.”
I rolled my eyes and muttered something about chakras before heading upstairs. The moment I stepped into my room, I shut the door and yanked off my glasses, groaning as the pressure behind my eyes finally eased. I placed them gently on my nightstand and stared at them for a beat longer than necessary.
Those thick-rimmed glasses had become a part of my daytime armor. They made the world see me as someone I wasn’t; buttoned up, brainy, harmless. But at night? At night, the real me came out. And she wasn’t harmless.
I swapped my pencil skirt and blouse for a pair of soft cotton shorts and an oversized white shirt, letting the fabric hang off one shoulder before padding downstairs to the kitchen in search of something sweet.
“Nana,” I cooed as I wrapped my arms around the older woman standing at the kitchen island.
She didn’t startle. Nana never did. She just kept chopping lettuce, the rhythm of her blade steady.
“You’re home,” she said, warmth in her voice.
“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Fried chicken, mushroom rice, and lettuce salad.”
“Oh, bless you,” I breathed dramatically. “I’m officially starving.”
I opened the fridge, retrieved a tub of strawberry ice cream, and grabbed a ceramic bowl from the shelf. Then I broke up a bar of dark chocolate into tiny chunks and sprinkled them over the scooped ice cream like sprinkles from heaven.
“You’ve got quite the appetite, you know,” Nana said with a teasing lilt.
“Just feeding my demons,” I said with a smirk.
“Or a baby,” she added with mock suspicion. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant? You know you can tell me anything.”
“You wish,” I laughed, shaking my head as I carried my bowl into the living room.
Thankfully, Lydia’s yoga session was done and her hot instructor was nowhere in sight. She was lounging on the couch now, scrolling through her phone with a soda in hand.
“So?” she asked without looking up. “How was meeting the new boss?”
I plopped down beside her, spoon in hand. “Well… now I have to seduce him.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
I scooped a mouthful of ice cream and spoke through it. “The spoiled Valiente boy thinks I’m not… bangable.”
Lydia burst out laughing, practically doubling over. “Not bangable? Girl, men line up just to breathe near you. And he thinks you’re not bangable? Oh, he has no idea who he’s dealing with. I give it a week before he’s j*********f under his desk whispering your name.”
“That’s the plan,” I said with a sly smirk. “He judged me. My looks. My presence. So I’m going to play this game real dirty.”
Lydia sobered slightly. “Wait, are you saying you’re actually going to sleep with him?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to make him want it. Crave it. Dream about it. And then I’m going to deny him every single inch of me.”
She whistled low. “Cold-blooded.”
“He needs to learn,” I said simply. “You don’t get to underestimate me. Especially not because I wear glasses and cover my curves.”
“You’ve got that tone again,” she said, eyes narrowing. “The one you get right before you go full femme fatale. And just… be careful. Reed Valiente isn’t a man who takes teasing lightly. Once he wants something, he doesn’t stop until he has it. Under him. Behind him. Wherever.”
I laughed, though there was steel in my voice. “I know what kind of man he is. And you’re forgetting the kind of woman I am. Reed Valiente is a playground flirt. I’ve danced with wolves, Lydia. I can handle him. Besides, I despise womanizers. Always have. They wreck homes, ruin lives, and walk away with their egos intact. Not on my watch.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You sound like someone who’s been wrecked by one before.”
I said nothing for a moment, then shook it off. “I got this. Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered. “Anyway, I’m grabbing a soda. Let’s get cozy and watch something trashy.”
“Deal. But I’m picking the movie.”
“God help me,” she called from the kitchen.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of food, wine, and rom-com sarcasm. After dinner, I was curled up in a blanket, half-dozing, when my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Elton.
I frowned, reaching for it. What the hell did he want?
“This better not be-”
“I need you in thirty minutes,” he cut in. “No, scratch that. Twenty-five. We’ve got a high-class client offering double for one of our best. I know you need the money.”
“How high-class are we talking?” I asked, rubbing my temples. Judging was a luxury I didn’t have. Bills didn’t care about pride.
There was a pause.
“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you, but it’s a Valiente sibling. The younger one.”
Reed.
A slow smile crept onto my lips.
“Well then,” I purred. “Tell him to make it a triple… and I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Click.
I tossed my phone onto the couch, my mind already calculating the perfect outfit, the perfect wig, the perfect rhythm to this twisted little dance.
Kill two birds with one stone?
No.
Tonight, I was going to tame a lion.
And he wouldn’t even know it was me.
- Writer
