POISONOUS VOW (GINJAY) AU

THE FITTED DRESS.

The Chatrium Grand bridal suite smelled like white lilies and money.

Jayna Angelina stood on the pedestal in a 3-million-baht wedding dress, arms out, face blank. The designer fussed around her hem, muttering in Thai and French. Outside the door, two bodyguards. Inside, only the soft prick of pins.

She didn't look like a bride. She looked like a queen about to go to war.

"Khun Jayna, breathe in ka," the designer said.

"I am breathing," Jayna said coldly.

The designer left to get a different veil. The door clicked. A second later, it clicked again.

A new girl walked in wearing the designer's assistant uniform. Too pretty. Too young. Baseball cap low, mask up, tray of pins in her hands.

Ginny Natnicha. Little Venom.

Her file said: 23, 158cm, doll-faced, kills with synthetic toxin that mimics heart failure. No prints. No trace. 19 kills. Never missed.

She was hired to make Jayna's death look like a stress-induced cardiac arrest on the day of her final fitting. Clean. Poetic.

Ginny approached, eyes down. Her hand trembled just enough to look nervous.

"Needle change, ka," she mumbled.

Jayna watched her in the mirror. Watched the way her small hand went for the top pin on the tray - the one with the slightly thicker head. The one that wasn't a pin at all.

"You took 23 minutes longer than I expected."

Ginny froze.

Jayna turned around on the pedestal. The wedding dress rustled like a threat.

She spoke in perfect English, slow: "My fiancé is cheap, but I thought even he wouldn't hire the second best. I was disappointed."

The mask, the cap - Ginny's eyes finally snapped up. Shock. Then cold calculation.

How did she know?

Jayna stepped down. One step. Two steps. Until she was right in front of Ginny, towering over her in heels and white lace.

Without breaking eye contact, Jayna reached out and grabbed Ginny's wrist - the hand holding the poisoned needle - and pulled it up.

To her own throat. Pressed the tip right against her pulse.

Ginny's breath stopped.

"If you want to kill me, Little Venom," Jayna whispered, lips almost touching Ginny's ear, her voice suddenly soft, private, "you have to touch me first."

The needle pricked. A single bead of blood.

Ginny could push. One push, 3 seconds, Jayna would seize and fall. Job done. 20 million baht wired.

But Jayna wasn't scared. Her pulse under the needle was steady. Her other hand was now on Ginny's waist, holding her in place, thumb stroking over the cheap uniform.

"You've killed 19 men who never looked you in the eyes," Jayna said. "Look at me when you do it."

Ginny looked. Really looked.

And Jayna - the woman who was supposed to be a cold, loveless mafia heir - looked at her like she had been waiting.

Ginny's hand dropped. The needle clattered to the marble floor.

"Can't?" Jayna smiled for the first time. It was terrible. Beautiful. "Good."

She kicked the needle away. Then she grabbed Ginny's chin, forcing her to look up.

"You tried to kill me in my wedding dress, darling. That's sacred. Now you owe me a debt."

"What do you want?" Ginny whispered, her assassin mask completely cracked.

Jayna leaned in, her red lipstick almost brushing Ginny's.

"You. In that dress. For the rest of the fitting. So I can see what my wife should have really looked like."

Behind them, the door handle rattled. The real designer was back.

Jayna didn't let go. She shouted in Thai: "One more minute! The pins are hurting!"

Then back to Ginny, voice low: "Decide. Run and I'll hunt you. Stay and I'll ruin you."

Ginny's knees were weak. No one had ever held a gun and a leash at the same time and called it love.

She stayed.

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END OF CHAPTER 1