Chapter 13 Golden Trap

• "You look far too pleased with yourself, Mrs. Morello," Casian growled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against the quiet hum of the Maybach’s engine as the luxury sedan glided away from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
• The rain had begun to fall again, streaking down the tinted glass in long, jagged lines. Inside the spacious back seat, the atmosphere was thick, charged with the lingering high of their public execution of Victoria Vane.
• Megan turned her head away from the window, her crimson silk gown rustling against the leather seat. She leaned back, resting her head against the headrest, her sharp hazel eyes fixing onto Casian. He had unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket, tossing his silk tie onto the empty seat beside him. His shirt collar was undone at the throat, exposing the hard line of his neck and a hint of bronze skin.