Poison Turning Upon the Plotter [Part-2]
With that, she clapped her hands.
The sound was soft.
Yet to Julian's ears, it sounded like the striking of a trap.
A waiter immediately appeared and brought over a bottle of red wine.
Deep crimson.
Elegant crystal.
Poison hidden behind luxury.
Thalia picked up the already opened bottle herself and moved to pour for Julian and Bianca.
Her jeweled fingers gleamed beneath chandelier light.
Her smile was warm.
Too warm.
She could hardly wait to see this handsome man submit to her.
In her imagination, Julian was already trapped.
Drugged.
Helpless.
Belonging to her.
But just as wine touched the rim of Bianca's glass—
"Sorry, President Thalia, I don't drink," Bianca suddenly said.
Her voice was light.
Almost casual.
Yet the room stilled.
The waiter froze.
Even Thalia's pouring hand paused.
"Huh?"
Thalia blinked, momentarily stunned.
She doesn't drink?
What was this?
Then she forced a laugh.
