“This works for now.”
“Maybe it’s time to consider forgiveness?”
“He robbed me of my father, Ridley.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t be this man. The man they say you are.”
“And what is that?”
He mouthed the word monster but was polite enough not to say it out loud.
A blur of movement came from above.
A chair flew over the balcony and barely missed Ridley’s head before it crashed to the ground behind him, smashing to smithereens. He raised his eyes from the crook of his arm where he’d shielded his face. Turned to stare at the chair. Then snapped a glare upward.
Anya peered down over the balcony at us.
“What the fuck?” Ridley looked horrified.
“We didn’t lock her door,” I said flatly. “I’m not a complete monster.”
“You’ve got to contain her!”
“Go home,” I told him. “Forget you ever saw her.”
“I’m not leaving her here.”
“You seem to forget. I’m the man who pays your ridiculous salary. Step outside and take a breath.”
“Your mom wouldn’t want this for you.”
“She’s not here. And tell me . . . why isn’t she here?”
Ridley’s shoulders slumped, and he peered up toward the balcony. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Forgiveness?” I rested a hand on his shoulder. “You think I give a fuck about forgiveness? That word hasn’t been in my vocabulary since your father failed to listen that day. The day he sent me away without warning my father. Their blood is on your family’s hands too.”
“Don’t you think I’m haunted by that every day of my life?”
“Apparently not haunted enough. Since you’re still giving me this shit right now.”
“Cas,” he whispered.
“I’ll call you if and when you’re needed.” I headed up the staircase toward Anya.
Anya
Cassius glared up at me from the foyer.
I’d barely missed his friend with the chair. The tall man with the slicked-back hair, cunning features, and that Louisiana accent. Cassius looked annoyed. They exchanged a few words below as though I hadn’t just thrown a piece of furniture over the balcony at them.
Cassius’s foot landed on the first step of the staircase.
Not waiting to see if he took a second, I scurried back into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. Rushing over to the other side of the room, I flung myself onto the bed and braced for when he came in.
Cassius strolled in casually, his expression dangerously calm.
A shudder of regret stretched through me as I realized I wasn’t safe where I was sitting and moved to try to get away. He caught hold of my ankle and dragged me back toward him. I kicked out with my other foot at his chest. He grabbed my leg and twisted it, flipping me over.
He grabbed my feet to still me. Struggling, I pulled one free. With a swipe of his hand, he knocked my foot away from his face. The mattress dipped as he clambered onto it and reached for my hands. Clasping my wrists with an ironclad hold and leveraging both my arms up until he’d captured them above my head and pinned them to the mattress.
Looming over me, his heady cologne reminded me of dark fantasies turned real.
“What the fuck was that?” he growled, his body close to mine, heat and tension radiating off him.
“Let me go.”
“If that chair had hit him. . .”
“Better luck next time.” Snapping my eyes away, I refused to show how much he scared me and continued to squirm against him. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He looked amused. “You?”
“My father.”
He let me go as though struck by some invisible force. His expression turned dark, reflecting hate and fury in his gaze.
Before he could respond, I used the opportunity of his moment of distraction and scrambled off the bed and back on my feet. “He will find you. And when he does. . .”
Cassius rounded the bed and stalked toward me with a dangerous stride, closing in fast. My back struck the wall behind me.
He slammed his palms against the wall on either side of my head. “You’re going to be here for a while. Learn to be courteous.”
“Courteous?” I scoffed.
“You’re right. We’re both fooling ourselves if we think this is going to be painless.”
Even as he spoke those words, my eyes lowered to his lips as if they might say something else, something to comfort and bring solace.
His body pressed against mine, his firm chest against my breasts.
My chin tipped up in rebellion. “What are you going to do to me?”
He leaned in and dragged his mouth along my jawline, hovering over my lips. “I’ve yet to decide.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
He smirked. “And you’re sinking into the ice, Anya.”
“What did my dad do to make you so angry?”
He went to say something, and then stopped himself.
“Whatever it was, you deserved it,” I said coldly.
His expression changed at my comment, making him look even more sinister. “The danger is real. Act accordingly.”