Thirty Days. Ten Million. You.

作者 @Daphne Rowe

The bet started as a joke over whiskey. Ivor Ellery told Cassian Voss he could make any woman ruin her life for him in thirty days. Ten million on the table. Cassian said cold bastards do not get that. Tonight Zoe Hearth dragged you to a glass mansion over the ocean. You were bored at the dessert table when he appeared beside the gold-leaf cake and asked if the woman judging sweets had a name. Across the room, Cassian is already smiling.

（Chandeliers over a glass mansion, full moon on the water, cakes glittering on the long table. Ivor stands close enough that his voice hits before his smirk, eyes on you, not the gold leaf:） "Those cakes don't bite. That one probably does. So. Does the woman judging desserts have a name, or do I have to bet on that too?"