Cold.

That was the first thing Cassidy felt. A deep, bone-chilling cold that seeped into her skin.

She blinked, her eyes gritty and dry. She was curled up on the sofa, a thin cashmere throw the only thing covering her shivering body. The morning light stabbed through the gap in the curtains, blinding her.

She sat up, her entire body screaming in protest. The ache in her muscles, the rawness in her throat-it wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

She looked toward the bedroom. The massive bed was perfectly made. Empty. He was gone.

On the glass coffee table in front of her sat a single slip of paper and a check.

Cassidy reached out with a trembling hand, picking up the note. The handwriting was sharp and arrogant.

"A tedious transaction. Disappear."

Bile rose in her throat. She stared at the check. The zeros blurred together, a number that could pay off her student loans, could save her apartment. But the price was her dignity. It was the ultimate insult, a payment for a service she never agreed to provide.

A short, hysterical laugh escaped her lips. It sounded alien, broken.

She ripped the check in half. Then again. And again. She threw the confetti into the metal wastebasket, her chest heaving.

She scrambled off the couch, finding her dress crumpled on the floor. She pulled it on, not caring that it was inside out. She didn't look back as she fled the penthouse, her bare feet slapping against the marble hallway.

The Manhattan morning rush hour hit her like a wave. Horns blaring, people shouting, the smell of exhaust and stale coffee. Nobody looked at her. Nobody knew that she was walking around dead inside.

She made it back to her tiny apartment and locked the door. She didn't stop there. She ran to the bathroom, turning the shower dial all the way to scalding.

She stepped under the spray, still wearing her dress, and grabbed the loofah. She scrubbed. She scrubbed her arms, her neck, her lips, until her skin was raw and bleeding. She couldn't feel his hands anymore, but the phantom sensation of his grip, his breath, his eyes-it was a stain she couldn't wash away.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, the shrill ringtone cutting through the steam.

She turned off the water, wrapping a towel around her shivering body. She looked at the screen. Meredith Croft. Her boss. Calling for the fifth time.

Cassidy cleared her throat, trying to force the hoarseness from her voice. "Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been, Fox?" Meredith's voice was a sharp whip through the speaker. "I've been calling since last night. The A-round is hanging by a thread. We are on life support here."

"I'm sorry, Meredith. I had a... personal emergency." Cassidy gripped the edge of the sink, fighting down the nausea.

"I don't care if you were hit by a bus. Get to the office. Now." The line went dead.

Cassidy stared at her reflection. The dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises. She looked like a ghost.

She couldn't fall apart. She had student loans that could buy a house, rent that went up every year, and a career that was the only thing keeping her afloat. She wouldn't let Jaret Taylor take that from her too.

She covered the angry red marks on her neck with layers of industrial-strength concealer, thankful for the high collar of her blouse. She put on her sharpest black pantsuit, a suit of armor. She walked out the door.

The office was a warzone. Meredith was pacing in the conference room, her face red. The whiteboard was covered in red ink. They had one month of runway left.

"Cassidy," Meredith barked, pointing a manicured finger at her. "Tonight is the Whitfield Charity Gala. Every major investor in the city will be there. You are going to get me a meeting with at least one top-tier VC. If you don't, you're fired, and this company is bankrupt."

Cassidy's stomach dropped. A gala. A room full of billionaires. The exact kind of people she wanted to avoid.

"I can't-" she started.

"Can you pay your rent next month?" Meredith cut her off, her eyes cold. "Because I can't."

Cassidy swallowed hard. She had no choice.

She spent the next four hours calling in every favor, begging every contact, until finally, a client who had a last-minute business trip agreed to transfer his digital invite.

By 7 PM, she was standing in front of her closet. She owned one dress that was remotely appropriate-a simple black slip that she had bought on sale. No diamonds, no designer bag. She would be the poorest person in the room.

She looked in the mirror and practiced smiling. A fake, professional smile that didn't reach her eyes. She locked the trauma in a box and threw away the key.

The subway ride was suffocating. The car was packed with bodies, the air thick and stale. Someone bumped into her from behind, and she flinched, her throat closing up. The memory of Jaret's hands on her neck sent her heart racing. She was trapped. She couldn't breathe.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the door, counting the seconds until the next stop. It's just work. Just get through tonight.

The hotel lobby was a circus of flashbulbs and couture. Cassidy kept her head down, slipping past the photographers like a shadow.

The ballroom was a cathedral of wealth. Crystal chandeliers, champagne fountains, the murmur of the elite. Cassidy felt like an imposter. She grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing tray, needing something to do with her hands.

She turned, scanning the room for a friendly face or a lonely investor.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

Standing near the entrance, surrounded by a fawning circle of suits, was Jaret Taylor. He looked immaculate in a tailored tuxedo, his dark hair swept back, a champagne flute held loosely in his hand. He looked like a king holding court.

And he was looking right at her.

Cassidy jerked her gaze away, her heart slamming against her ribs so hard she was sure the woman next to her could hear it.

She spun around, putting a massive floral arrangement between herself and the door. Her hands were shaking so badly that the champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass, wetting her fingers.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She risked a glance over the orchids. Jaret was still surrounded, nodding at something a gray-haired man was saying. He hadn't moved. He hadn't noticed her.

She let out a shaky exhale. She had a job to do. She couldn't let him ruin her life twice in twenty-four hours.

She pulled out her phone, looking at the list of target investors. She took a sip of champagne to steady her nerves and approached a group near the bar.

"Excuse me, Mr. Henderson? I'm Cassidy Fox with GreenTech. We spoke last month about-"

"Not interested," the man said without even looking at her. He turned his back, resuming his conversation.

Cassidy stood there, the rejection stinging. She moved on to the next target. And the next. Each one was a variation of the same: a polite dismissal, a condescending smile, or outright ignoring her existence. They looked at her cheap dress and her lack of entourage and wrote her off. She was a minnow trying to swim with sharks.

She was fighting back tears of frustration when she felt it. That prickling sensation on the back of her neck. The feeling of being watched.

Across the room, Jaret had stopped listening to the man next to him. His gaze had drifted across the sea of heads, landing squarely on the black dress hiding behind the flowers.

His bored, arrogant expression vanished. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened, a predatory focus replacing the disinterest. He recognized her. The woman who had knelt for him last night was now standing tall, fighting for survival in a room full of wolves.

Kade Thorne, standing beside Jaret, noticed his friend's sudden tension. He followed Jaret's line of sight and let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Well, well," Kade murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "Isn't that your little trophy from last night? She's got guts showing up here."

Jaret took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Cassidy. "Looks like she needs a reminder of the rules."

Cassidy, oblivious to the crosshairs on her back, finally caught a break. An older man in a rumpled suit seemed interested in sustainable energy. She pitched with everything she had, her voice passionate and clear.

He smiled, reaching into his jacket pocket. "You've got five minutes of my attention tomorrow. Here's my card."

Cassidy took the card like it was a lifeline. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this."

Jaret watched the exchange. He leaned over to his assistant, murmuring a few words. The assistant nodded and immediately walked toward the older man.

Within sixty seconds, the man's face went pale. He looked at the assistant, then at Jaret, and practically bowed before scurrying away, leaving Cassidy standing alone by the bar, the card still clutched in her hand.

A cold dread settled in her stomach. She hadn't seen the interaction, but she felt the shift. The door that had just opened had been slammed shut by an invisible hand.

Jaret watched her from afar, a cruel satisfaction settling over him. He loved watching her struggle. He loved watching her hope and then fall.

He turned to Kade, giving a slight nod toward the hallway.

Cassidy felt sick. She needed a minute. She needed to splash cold water on her face and figure out a new plan. She set her empty glass down and hurried toward the lobby restrooms, keeping her head down.

She was rushing around the corner when she collided with a solid chest.

"Whoa, there," a smooth voice said. Hands caught her elbows, steadying her.

Cassidy looked up, her heart in her throat. The man was handsome, with slicked-back hair and a charming smile. He looked familiar.

"I am so sorry," she stammered, stepping back.

"Kade Thorne," he said, offering his hand. "Partner at Apex Ventures."

Apex Ventures. The name was a siren song. It was one of the biggest VC firms in the city. Cassidy's desperation overrode her caution.

"Cassidy Fox," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm with GreenTech."

"Ah, the green energy folks," Kade said, his eyes glinting. "I've been hearing some buzz about your tech. It's a fascinating model."

He was lying, of course, but Cassidy was too hungry to care. "We're looking for our Series A. I'd love to tell you about our projections."

"It's a bit loud in here," Kade said, gesturing to the ballroom. "I'm actually heading up to a private suite on the second floor. A few other partners are up there. We're looking for new ventures. Why don't you join me? We can talk in peace."

Cassidy hesitated. The voice in her head screamed danger, but the image of her empty bank account was louder. This was her job. This was what she came here to do.

"Okay," she said. "Lead the way."

Kade smiled, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her toward the private elevator. She didn't look back toward the ballroom. If she had, she would have seen Jaret watching her walk into his trap, a slow, victorious smile spreading across his face.

The second-floor hallway was a different world.

The thick carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps, and the heavy silence was a stark contrast to the chaotic noise of the party below. It felt like walking into a tomb.

Kade Thorne stopped in front of a set of dark double doors. He reached out and twisted the brass handle, pushing the door open with a flourish.

"After you." he said, his smile never wavering.

Cassidy stepped inside, expecting to see a boardroom or a lounge full of investors. Instead, she found a dimly lit, opulent hotel suite. There were no other partners. No business discussions. Just a massive sitting area bathed in shadows.

On the leather sofa, Kade Thorne was swirling a glass of bourbon, watching her with an amused smirk. The charming mask he had worn in the hallway was gone, replaced by something colder and more calculating. He had clearly just entered through a side door; the two drinks on the table—one half-empty, one untouched—suggested he and Jaret had been waiting for her.

Every alarm in Cassidy's head went off at once. She turned around, reaching for the door, but the man who had led her here was already stepping back into the hallway.

"Wait—" she started.

The door clicked shut. She heard the distinct sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

She grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn't budge. She jiggled it frantically, her pulse skyrocketing.

"Don't strain yourself, sweetheart," Kade drawled, taking a sip of his drink. "That door could withstand a battering ram."

Cassidy backed away from the door, her eyes darting around the room. A door to the inner bedroom was ajar, a faint orange glow flickering from within.

The smell of cigar smoke hit her first. Then, Jaret Taylor stepped out of the shadows of the bedroom, a thick cigar between his fingers. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable.

The air left her lungs. She had been played. This wasn't a business meeting. It was an ambush.

"What is this?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "Last night is over. You said it was."

Jaret walked over to the bar, pouring a glass of whiskey. "I thought I made myself clear. We aren't finished."

Cassidy squared her shoulders, trying to project a confidence she didn't feel. "This is a public event. I'll scream. Security will come."

Kade laughed out loud. "Scream all you want, honey. These walls are soundproofed for a reason. Nobody is coming."

Cassidy felt the walls closing in. She was trapped again.

Suddenly, the muffled sound of high heels clicking rapidly in the hallway reached her ears.

"Cassidy? Are you up here?"

Meredith. It was Meredith's voice.

A spark of hope ignited in Cassidy's chest. She lunged toward the door, opening her mouth to scream, but Jaret was faster. He pressed a button on the intercom console on the desk.

"Kade," Jaret said, his voice calm and commanding. "Execute."

Kade pushed himself off the sofa, his smirk never wavering. He walked to the door, slipping through it with practiced ease. Through the heavy wood, Cassidy heard a muffled conversation. She couldn't make out the words, but the clicking heels stopped. Then, they started again, fading away down the hall.

"No," Cassidy whispered, her hand dropping from the door handle. The spark of hope sputtered and died.

Jaret picked up two glasses and walked toward her. He held one out.

She knocked it out of his hand. The crystal shattered on the hardwood floor, shards scattering across the carpet.

Jaret didn't flinch. He just took a step closer, forcing her backward until her back hit the cold glass of the window.

He planted one hand on the glass beside her head, caging her in. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath smelling of whiskey and smoke.

"Your boss just went downstairs to have a drink with Kade," Jaret said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "She thinks he's going to invest. She's not coming back for you."

Cassidy pushed against his chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. He didn't move an inch.

"What do you want?" she spat, her voice cracking. "Money? Is this just more humiliation?"

Jaret's gaze dropped to her lips, which were trembling slightly. The look in his eyes shifted, becoming darker, heavier. The cold calculation was still there, but it was being swallowed by something else. Something hungry.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

"You." he whispered.