The executive floor of Santana Corp was dead silent.

M. Thorne stood outside the heavy frosted glass doors of the CEO's office. He stared at the encrypted tablet in his hands. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple.

He took a deep breath, raised his knuckles, and knocked twice on the glass.

Inside, the main lights were off. The only illumination came from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing grid of Manhattan.

Barron Santana sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk. He was staring at a stack of PR releases regarding his engagement to Cheslie. His face was a mask of perfect, terrifying calm.

"Enter," Barron said. His voice was flat.

Thorne pushed the door open. He walked softly, his shoes making no sound on the carpet. He stopped in front of the desk and held out the tablet with both hands.

Barron didn't look up. He unscrewed the cap of his Montblanc fountain pen. "Report."

Thorne swallowed hard. His throat was dry. "Miss West did not return to her apartment tonight, sir."

Barron's hand stopped moving. The gold nib of the pen hovered a millimeter above the paper. A drop of black ink fell, bleeding into the crisp white page.

Barron slowly raised his head. His ice-blue eyes locked onto Thorne. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"She was picked up by Cassidy Gross," Thorne forced the words out. "He took her to The Plaza Hotel. To his penthouse."

Snap.

The sound echoed sharply in the quiet room. Barron had gripped the Montblanc pen so hard that the thick resin barrel snapped in half.

Black ink exploded over his fingers, splattering onto the cuffs of his custom French shirt.

Barron stood up. He shoved his chair back so violently it screeched against the hardwood floor. He snatched the tablet out of Thorne's hands.

He stared at the screen. It was a high-resolution photo taken by his private security team. It showed Cassidy Gross carrying Alexandrea in his arms, walking into the lobby of The Plaza. Her head was resting on his chest.

The image burned into Barron's retinas. His chest tightened so painfully he couldn't draw a full breath. The jealousy was a physical fire, burning up his throat, destroying every ounce of his legendary control.

"Get me the interior footage," Barron ordered. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Now."

Thorne rushed to the side console. He typed rapidly, hacking into the hotel's security feed. He cast the video onto the massive screen on the wall.

The video played in black and white. It showed the elevator. It showed Cassidy looking down at Alexandrea. It showed the way Cassidy's arm tightened around her waist.

Barron's vision went red.

He pulled his right arm back and slammed his fist down onto the tempered glass coffee table next to his desk.

The glass shuddered under the impact. The skin across Barron's knuckles split open. Blood welled up, mixing with the black ink on his skin.

Thorne took a quick step backward, terrified. He had worked for Barron for ten years and had never seen him lose physical control.

Barron grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk. He wiped the blood and ink off his hand with brutal, jerky motions. His chest heaved.

"Cancel all my meetings for tomorrow morning," Barron said, tossing the bloody tissue into the trash. "Cancel the board review. Cancel the press call."

He pointed a shaking finger at the frozen image of Alexandrea on the screen.

"The second she swipes her badge tomorrow," Barron said, his voice dripping with venom, "bring her straight to my office."

Thorne nodded quickly and practically ran out of the room.

Barron stood alone in the dark. He stared at the screen, his bloody hand clenched into a tight fist at his side.

A sharp beam of morning sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains, hitting Alexandrea directly in the eyes.

She groaned. Her head felt like it had been split open with an axe.

She rolled over, seeking the dark. Her fingers brushed against the sheets. They were impossibly smooth. Egyptian cotton. High thread count.

Her brain, sluggish and throbbing, registered the texture. This wasn't her cheap Ikea bed linen.

Alexandrea's eyes snapped open.

She stared at a massive crystal chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling. Intricate crown molding lined the walls.

Panic hit her chest like a physical blow. She sat up so fast the room spun. She looked down at herself. Her jacket and boots were gone, but she was still wearing her black t-shirt and tactical pants.

She let out a shaky breath, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. She couldn't remember anything after the third glass of whiskey. She remembered a man grabbing her. She remembered fighting. Then... nothing.

Alexandrea slid her bare feet onto the cold hardwood floor. She moved silently, her bodyguard training taking over. She crept toward the bedroom door and pressed her ear against the wood.

She heard the low hum of a coffee machine.

She held her breath, her combat training instantly overriding her hangover. She carefully pulled the door open just a fraction of an inch, peering through the narrow gap to assess the situation. When she spotted a strange man standing at the marble island with his back to her, her body coiled with tension. He was shirtless, his broad shoulders and tattooed back fully exposed.

Alexandrea slipped out silently, stepping backward to grab the heaviest object in reach-a heavy blue-and-white porcelain vase from the console table-and raised it above her head, ready to swing.

The man turned around, holding two mugs of steaming coffee.

It was Cassidy.

He looked at Alexandrea. He looked at the vase raised above her head. He didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, amused smirk spread across his face. He let out a loud laugh.

"Good morning, sunshine," Cassidy said, leaning his hip against the marble counter. His eyes dragged down her messy hair and wrinkled clothes.

Alexandrea froze. Her mouth fell open. Her arms slowly lowered, the heavy vase pulling her muscles down.

"Cassidy?" she stammered. "Why... why am I here? What happened last night?"

Cassidy's smirk vanished. He set the coffee mugs down. He looked down at the floor, his expression suddenly serious and full of regret. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Last night?" Cassidy said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. "You were wild, Alexandrea. I tried to stop you, but you just kept coming at me. I'm exhausted."

The words hit Alexandrea like a freight train. All the blood drained from her face. Her stomach dropped to the floor.

She dropped the vase. It hit the rug with a heavy thud.

She brought both hands up to cover her face. A wave of pure, suffocating shame washed over her. She had slept with her college senior. She had forced herself on him. She was a monster.

Cassidy watched her shoulders shake. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He couldn't keep the act up anymore.

He walked around the island, picked up one of the mugs, and nudged her arm with his elbow.

"I'm kidding, idiot," Cassidy laughed. "We just slept under the same roof. You passed out on the couch."

Alexandrea dropped her hands. Her pale face instantly turned bright red. Her eyes narrowed into furious slits.

Cassidy shoved the warm mug into her hands and held his hands up in surrender.

Alexandrea gripped the mug tightly. The heat seeped into her cold palms. She let out a long, shaky breath, the crushing weight of panic finally lifting off her chest.

Alexandrea took a sip of the black coffee. The bitter liquid helped clear the remaining fog in her brain.

She stood awkwardly by the marble island, using her free hand to try and comb the tangles out of her hair.

"Thank you," she muttered, looking down at the floor. "For last night. For getting me out of there."

Cassidy set his mug down. The playful smirk returned to his lips. He took a step closer to her and held out his right hand.

"Don't thank me yet," he said.

Alexandrea looked at his hand. Wrapped around the thick part of his palm, right between his thumb and index finger, was a layer of white medical gauze. A small spot of dark, dried blood had seeped through the center of the bandage.

Alexandrea's eyes widened. "What happened to your hand?"

Cassidy leaned forward, invading her personal space. "This is the physical evidence of your assault last night."

Alexandrea's heart skipped a beat. She took a step back, her lower back pressing against the cold edge of the marble island.

"You just said nothing happened!" she said, her voice rising in panic.

Cassidy shrugged. He looked down at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I said we didn't go all the way. But you definitely caused bodily harm. You threw yourself at me and started biting me."

Alexandrea's face burned. The heat rushed up her neck and settled in her cheeks.

Her mind went completely blank. The word "biting" sent a wave of nausea and sheer terror through her system. With her five years of elite bodyguard training and former Mossad-level combat skills, she couldn't fathom losing control to the point of launching such an unhinged, violent attack on someone while blacked out. She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified by the image of herself behaving like a feral animal.

She pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed her head. "I am so sorry. I drank too much. I wasn't in my right mind. Please forgive me."

Cassidy stared at her. She was actually trembling. He was trying so hard not to laugh that his stomach muscles hurt.

He tapped his uninjured fingers against the marble counter. "Sorry isn't going to cut it, Alexandrea. You have to take responsibility for me."

The word "responsibility" made Alexandrea's blood run cold. She thought he wanted to date her. She thought he wanted a relationship.

She shook her head frantically. "I can't! I can't take responsibility like that. There's... there's someone else in my heart. I can't."

Cassidy's fingers stopped tapping. The mention of someone else-Barron-sent a flash of dark irritation through his eyes.

He pushed the irritation down. He stepped closer, trapping her between his body and the counter. He was a foot taller than her, and his bare chest was inches from her face.

Alexandrea held her breath. She didn't dare look up.

"I can pay you!" she blurted out, her voice desperate. "I'll pay your medical bills! I'll pay for your emotional distress! Just name a price."

Cassidy let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. He was a billionaire. He owned half of Silicon Valley. And this bodyguard was offering him money.

He raised his left hand and flicked her hard on the forehead.

"Ouch!" Alexandrea gasped, her hands flying up to cover her head. She glared up at him.

Cassidy's face was completely serious now. He looked straight into her eyes.

"I don't want your money," Cassidy said softly. "I want you to agree to one condition."