My Cousin's Final, Perfect Trap

"My mom probably gave it to her," I said casually, feigning a look of helplessness. "Blair's just like that, spoiled since childhood. You can just ignore her."

Though Preston swore he hadn't paid Blair any mind, I still let a flicker of unease show on my face.

The image of them on the sofa together kept replaying in my mind, stoking a carefully crafted anxiety.

I had worked so hard to win his heart, spending six months catering to his every whim—playing the part of the meek, gentle, and vaguely intellectual girlfriend he seemed to want—before he finally asked me out.

It was partly the insecurity Blair always managed to stir up in me, and partly the uncertainty of how long Preston could really hold her at bay.

Preston didn't stay the night.

He had another luxury apartment in Midtown Manhattan, so he went there.

However, he still came over the next morning to bring me breakfast.

He brought Blue Bottle coffee and croissants from the most popular bakery in town, laying them out on the dining table.

When Blair walked out of the guest room in a sexy silk slip dress and saw the spread, a smug smile touched her lips.

"Did you bring all this because you knew I was here, Preston?" she purred. "Oh, and you even got me an almond croissant from that little shop I love. Too bad they don't deliver. You must have gotten up at the crack of dawn, didn't you?"

Preston glanced at her. "No, I actually forgot you were here, so now we're short one coffee. Camila doesn't have much of an appetite in the morning, so I got her a few options to choose from."

Blair hummed in understanding, but her hand restlessly fiddled with the Cartier bracelet on her wrist.

It was a nervous tic that always appeared when she was plotting.

I knew instantly that her mild interest in Preston had sharpened into a resolute desire to conquer him.

I couldn't help but squeeze Preston's hand, my grip so tight that he shot me a confused look.

I quickly apologized and excused myself from the table, saying I needed to get changed.

That evening, when I came home from work, I found them sitting on the sofa together again, even closer than the day before.

Preston saw me and stood up to greet me.

Then, he lowered his voice and barraged me with questions. "Does Blair even have a job? Why is she always here? Didn't her ex leave her a place to live? What is she even doing?"

I looked up at him and said plaintively, "She'll probably stop once you stop ignoring her. That's just her personality. The more she can't have something, the more she has to have it."

My words gave him pause.

After a moment, he sighed. "Fine, I caved. She said if I added her on WhatsApp and chatted a little, she'd leave tomorrow."

I just hummed in response and walked into the bedroom.

Preston followed me in, wrapping his arms around me from behind, and asked if I was angry.

"I just don't want to see her here all the time. Besides, I can just mute her notifications," he said, showing me his screen to prove his point. "See? Already muted."

I didn't say anything, letting my palpable disappointment hang in the air. He spent the next hour trying to coax me out of it.

He doted on me throughout dinner, keeping my wine glass full and trying to make me laugh.

Across the table, Blair just smiled. "You're so thoughtful, Preston. It's rare to find a man with your patience these days."

Preston ignored her.

Instead, he focused all his attention on me, telling me about the investment and approval issues he was facing with a boutique hotel project in Miami.

Annoyed at being ignored, Blair made a show of clattering her fork and knife against her plate.

When we looked at her, she smiled. "My apologies. I got a little excited when you mentioned that topic. After all, that's my area of expertise."

When she saw the confused look on Preston's face, she flicked her wavy hair back and said confidently, "My ex-husband, Marcus, runs a rather successful real estate company. He's always been very generous with his connections and capital. For Camila's sake, I can introduce you to a few key players."

She even went into detail, naming several conglomerates that held sway in Miami's political and business circles.

I could see the temptation in Preston's eyes. For a second-generation heir so eager to prove himself, a shortcut like this was dangerously alluring.

He gave me an awkward glance, then turned to Blair.

"Wouldn't that be an inconvenience? After all, those connections are tied to your ex-husband."

"Oh, please," she replied nonchalantly. "It's just a phone call. Consider it done."

This time, Preston didn't refuse her.

I knew he would be un-muting her messages any second now.

Sure enough, when he followed me into the bedroom later, he tried to justify himself. "Blair's just warm-hearted. She's a little eccentric, but her business connections are the real deal. She seems sincere."

I just glanced at him, my eyes already red.

He immediately started coaxing me, saying gently, "Baby, it's nothing. This is purely business. Besides, do you really think I'm interested in a woman who lives off her ex?"

The next day, Blair left my apartment.

It was no coincidence that Preston didn't come over for the next several days, claiming he was swamped with work.