"Eunice. Yo, Eunice, wake up!"
The sharp voice , cutting through the fog in her mind like a blade. Eunice stirred, her lashes fluttering as she opened her eyes to find herself in her luxurious bedroom, sprawled on the massive bed draped in silken sheets. A piercing pain shot through her head, causing her to instinctively clutch her forehead, groaning softly.
"Finally! What's up, Eunice?"
The deep voice belonged to a tall, dark-skinned man standing at her bedside. He was strikingly handsome, with a face that seemed chiseled from stone. His full lips curled into a grin that exuded both charm and mischief.
"Argh, my head..." Eunice groaned, her voice strained. Her hand pressed harder against her temple as she struggled to recall what had happened. Flashes of the auction, the balcony, and... darkness. But her memories were fragmented, like pieces of a shattered mirror.
"You were nowhere to be found, man!" the man exclaimed, his rich voice carrying an unmistakable African-American accent. Concern laced his tone, though his expression remained casual. "I searched all over for ya and found ya lying on the floor."
"Nevaeh?" she murmured, her heart skipping a beat. Her sharp eyes focused on the man before her—the host of her auction, the one she trusted to handle delicate matters. Her voice sharpened. "What do you mean? Found me where?"
Nevaeh leaned back slightly, his hands raised in a gesture of reassurance. "Relax, love. You were out cold near the hall. I brought you here, no big deal."
Eunice's head swam as she processed his words. She couldn't fathom how she'd blacked out during such an important event. She shook her head lightly, trying to clear the dizziness. A flicker of gratitude crossed her face despite her confusion.
"Thank you, Nevaeh," she said softly, offering a faint smile.
Nevaeh grinned, his white teeth gleaming. "No problem, love." His tone was light, teasing. "Anything for you."
But her gratitude evaporated in an instant. Her lips curled into a frown, her tone turning cold and sharp. "Leave my room," she ordered, her voice cutting through his casual demeanor.
Nevaeh chuckled, ignoring her icy tone. "I will if—"
"If what?!" Eunice interrupted, her eyes narrowing.
He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Well... if you'd give me, maybe—" He paused dramatically, lowering his voice to a playful murmur. "A kiss on the cheek."
Eunice's headache was instantly forgotten. She shot out of bed, her movements fierce and commanding. Her piercing gaze locked onto him, full of contempt.
"Look," she said, her voice like ice. "Don't joke with me. I am your boss." Her words carried the weight of her authority, her presence a reminder of her position.
Nevaeh, unfazed, grinned even wider. "Man, you look so cute when you're mad," he said, his tone dripping with amusement.
Eunice's beauty was undeniable, and even in her anger, it radiated. At thirty-four, she possessed a flawless elegance that belied her age. Her smooth, glowing skin seemed to catch the light in all the right ways. Her curves were perfectly balanced—her toned figure complemented by long, graceful legs that gave her an air of poise and power. Her blonde hair, now tousled from rest, framed her striking face, with sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and lips painted a shade that seemed to dare anyone to cross her.
Without a second thought, Eunice grabbed the ornate vase from her bedside table. With precision and force, she hurled it at Nevaeh. He ducked, missing him by mere inches before shattering against the wall in an explosion of ceramic shards.
"Feisty," Nevaeh said, crouching to pick up the pieces. "You know, that's one expensive way to get me to leave, boss."
Eunice ignored his quip. Her tone turned sharp, her eyes narrowing as she asked, "How did it go? The auction. How did it end?"
For a moment, Nevaeh looked taken aback by her sudden shift in focus, but he quickly composed himself. "The auction was a great success!" he said, standing with a piece of the shattered vase in his hand. "All ten assets sold for high prices—bidding wars broke out for a few of them. Everyone left happy... except the ones who didn't win."
He continued, giving her a brisk yet detailed account of the night's proceedings. He described the excitement of the bidders, the high stakes, and the seamless execution of the event despite her unexpected absence.
Eunice listened intently, her piercing gaze fixed on him as she absorbed every word. Occasionally, she nodded in acknowledgment, her expression unreadable. By the time Nevaeh finished, her frown had softened into a look of satisfaction.
"Good," she said curtly. "Thank you for handling it." Her voice was calm, though her mind still swirled with unanswered questions. She motioned toward the broken shards on the floor. "Clean that up and leave. I need to shower and rest."
Nevaeh chuckled softly, brushing the dust from his hands. "Anything for you, boss," he said, a playful lilt in his tone.
He paused at the door, as though something had just occurred to him. "Oh, and one more thing," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "When I found you unconscious, you were holding a vase."
Eunice blinked, her head tilting slightly. "A vase?" she repeated, her voice laced with confusion.
Nevaeh's brows lifted. "You don't remember?"
As the words left his mouth, Eunice winced. The dull ache in her head flared into a sharp pain, making her press her fingers against her temple. Her memory felt like a thick fog, resistant to her attempts to break through it.
Noticing her pale face, Nevaeh shrugged casually. "Well, it's gotta be a gift, right? Maybe a secret admirer from the auction." He smirked, clearly enjoying the idea.
Eunice exhaled a heavy sigh, the explanation doing little to ease her tension. "Where is it?" she asked, her voice clipped.
Nevaeh pointed toward one of the tall shelves that lined the far wall. "Right over there. Thought I'd put it with the rest of your fancy stuff."
Her gaze followed his gesture. There it was—a striking cyan vase with intricate Italian patterns etched into its glossy surface. It stood out even among the collection of priceless artifacts and high-end artworks that adorned the shelf.
Eunice's eyes lingered on it, the faintest flicker of curiosity breaking through her otherwise stoic expression. "It's beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.
Nevaeh grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. "I thought so too." With that, he gave her a wink and stepped out of the room, leaving her alone with the vase and her swirling thoughts.
Hours Later
The steam from the shower still clung to her skin as Eunice stepped into her bedroom, wrapped in a plush white robe. Her wet blonde hair was secured in a towel, the strands gleaming faintly in the dim light of the room. She moved with slow, deliberate grace, her exhaustion apparent in every step.
Sitting on the edge of her king-sized bed, she reached for a smaller towel to pat her hair dry. The faint warmth of the water lingered on her skin, soothing her frayed nerves. Her eyes drifted across the room, tracing the ornate furniture and priceless art that adorned every corner.
And then, something caught her attention.
The vase.
It sat innocently on the table by her bed, yet it seemed to draw her gaze with an almost magnetic pull. The intricate cyan surface shimmered faintly in the soft lighting, and the delicate Italian patterns seemed alive, shifting subtly under her scrutiny.
Her pulse quickened as an eerie sensation crept over her. It wasn't fear—Eunice did not scare easily—but an inexplicable unease. It felt as though the vase were... calling to her.
"Eunice," a voice whispered, soft yet unmistakable.
She froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Eunice, it's me! Do you remember me?"
The voice wasn't loud, but its familiarity struck her like a blow. The memories of the night before surged forward in vivid clarity: the auction, the balcony, the dizzying darkness, and... the presence.
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she stood abruptly. The towel slipped from her head, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders. She wasn't scared—Eunice never succumbed to fear—but she was rattled.
"What are you?" she demanded, stepping closer to the vase. Her voice was firm, though a faint tremor laced her words.
The voice did not answer.
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion overtaking her unease. She reached for the vase, her fingers brushing the smooth ceramic. In one swift motion, she hurled it against the wall. The cyan masterpiece shattered into jagged shards, scattering across the room in a cascade of destruction.
"Who are you?!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the silence. She dropped to her knees, her hands rummaging through the broken pieces. Her sharp eyes scanned every shard, searching for a hidden microphone or speaker.
"This is absurd," she muttered, anger surging to the forefront. "How dare anyone play such a childish prank on me?" Her voice was low, venomous. "Could it be that idiot Nevaeh? No... even he wouldn't dare." Her sharp gaze darted to the corners of the room. "Then who?"
"Hello."
The word cut through the air like a knife, spoken in a voice smooth as silk yet carrying an edge of danger.
Eunice spun around, her breath catching as her eyes locked onto a figure standing casually in her room.
He was tall, unnaturally so, his presence filling the space with an oppressive weight. His long, dark hair framed a face that was both unnervingly beautiful and undeniably sinister. His piercing red eyes glowed faintly, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her chest tighten.
He wore a sleek black suit tailored to perfection, emphasizing his lean, powerful frame. His smile was disarming, almost charming, but there was something predatory in the curve of his lips.
"Who are you?!" Eunice's voice wavered slightly, the composure she prided herself on cracking under the weight of his presence.
The man tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "Make a wish," he said, his voice velvety and deep, each word dripping with invitation and menace.