Casey
He couldn’t stop fixating on it—how Daphne dragged Lili off the grid, for some out-of-the-blue girls’ weekend. What the hell was the point? To “reconnect,” she’d said? Bullshit. It was a power play. A threat. Daphne wanted to rattle him, and it worked.
He’d cornered her as soon as he could. She’d just laughed, smug and unbothered, like it was all a joke. Lili acted clueless, swore it was nothing. Just a girls’ trip. But he wasn’t sure. Since ending things with Daphne, she’d been… slippery. Unpredictable. Playing games. And the worst part? He had no idea how far she’d go.
“Quite the swanky office you’ve got.”
His head jerks up from his desk. Alexander stands in the doorway, like he’s been there the whole time. “But you look tense, Casey. Too much on your plate?”
Casey rises halfway. “What the fuck are you doing? Turn around, or I’ll call security.”
“Relax,” Alexander says, stepping inside. “I just need your help.”
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“Not happening.”
“You’ll get something in return. I can help you. With Lili. Remember?”
Casey doesn’t answer. His glare is enough.
Alexander closes the door. “As you wish.”
Then he says it, what he’s really here for: a woman. A former patient. Someone Casey is meant to “get to know.”
“Nothing aggressive,” Alexander explains. “Slip into her life. Earn her trust. Stay close. Report back. No pressure. Just patience. A little truth, enough to reel her in without setting off alarms.”
For a moment, Casey nearly stops himself. It sounds too insane to say out loud, let alone ask someone else. “You want me to seduce some woman, a fucking tabloid socialite, for what? A game? You’re insane.”
“Okay,” Alexander says lightly, “then I’ll follow my conscience. Tell Lili the truth about you and Daphne.”
Casey starts toward him, then stops. Without a word, he whirls and drives his fist into the wall.
“Motherfucker,” he shouts as the plaster cracks. “I won’t be your puppet.”
“But aren’t you already? You’re my puppet. Now she’ll be yours. And you’ll both be mine.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Casey. Well… you do. But let’s not pretend either path ends clean.”
Silence. The words don’t feel any more real. Or any less twisted.
“Who is she?”
“A patient who’s… elected to stop therapy. This is to help her. Her name’s Rafaella Simonetti.”
Casey doesn’t move, but the truth is already on his face. Alexander clocks it. Knows he’s won.
“And once you get to know her?” A smile twists on his lips in quiet triumph. “She goes by Raf.”