Page 10 of Cruel Deception
I exhale, my hands trembling under the table. Did he recognize me? The club was all blue lights and shadows—maybe I’m safe. But those eyes... they saw too much.
Luca dabs his mouth with a napkin, standing. “You seem tense,” he says, his voice gentle but observant. “This will be our home after the wedding. Take a stroll, get familiar. The guards are at your service. We’ll talk more before you leave—there’s time.” He glances at his Patek Philippe watch, a flash of understated wealth, and offers a brief, regency-era smile before walking out.
I slump in my chair, overwhelmed. I thought meeting Luca would be simple, a quick talk to lay things bare. But this place, its suffocating grandeur, and now Cassian—Mr. Hot—being Luca’s brother? It’s too much. My heart’s racing, my palms sweaty, and I can’t shake the feeling I’ve stepped into a lion’s den.
“Do you still have my key?” a voice says, low and firm, from behind.
I jump, nearly knocking over my glass.
Cassian’s there, inches away, his presence like a physical weight. How did he move so silently? I’m pressed against the table, my ass against the edge, trapped by his nearness.
His scent—cedar, smoke, and something darker—floods my senses, making my head spin.
“Mr. Hot,” I blurt, then wince. “I mean, Mr. Cassian.”
He waves a hand, and the staff vanish like ghosts. His lips curve, not quite a smile, more like a predator sizing up prey. “Mr. Hot, huh? That’s what you call me?”
“It was a mistake,” I mutter, my cheeks burning.
“You kissed me,” he says, his hand slamming onto the table beside me, the plates rattling.
He leans in, his face inches from mine, his breath warm. “Then you stole my bike.”
“I—I was escaping... mafia guys,” I stammer, my voice betraying me. “I didn’t mean—”
“Convenient,” he cuts in, his tone dripping with disbelief. His hand grips my chin, firm but not painful, forcing my eyes to his. “That kiss branded you to me, Charlotte. You’re mine now.”
My heart hammers, his touch electric, overwhelming. “Yours?” I choke out. “I’m engaged to your brother. I’d never—”
“You started it,” he growls, his lips so close I can almost taste them. “You don’t belong to Luca. You’re mine. And yes, a little thief like you? Just like your mother.”
My blood runs cold. “What do you know about my mother?”
He steps back, but before I can breathe, he spins me, pinning me against the table, my hands sliding across the polished wood, my hips pressed forward. His hands grip my waist, holding me still, his body a wall of heat behind me. “You didn’t kiss me by accident,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “Don’t play innocent.”
“You’re violating me,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
Memories I’ve buried surge up—hands I didn’t want, a night I swore I’d forget. Tears sting my eyes, not from him but from the ghosts he’s dragging up.
“Violating you would be taking you right here, letting Luca hear you scream,” he says, his voice cold, precise. “But I’ll wait. After our wedding, when you’re mine to break.” He releases me, and I spin around, wiping tears I didn’t want him to see.
Our wedding?
What the hell is he talking about?
I’m marrying his brother in two months. Not him.
“What do you know about my mother?” I demand, my voice shaking.
“Enough to know she was a whore,” he says, his face blank, unreadable. “And you’re following in her footsteps.”
“She’s been missing for ten years,” I snap, my chest aching.
“I don’t care for your sob story,” he says, stepping closer again, his voice a low growl. “You, Charlotte, are mine—to ruin, to shatter, to destroy. Your last breath will be mine to take. Remember that.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Bring my bike back. Tomorrow, 7 p.m.” Then he turns and walks away, leaving me shattered, my knees weak, the room spinning.
I grip the table, trying to anchor myself.
Cassian knows something about my mother—maybe everything. But his words, his touch, his threat... they’ve left me broken, and I don’t know how to pick up the pieces.
