Twenty Four

CHAPTER 24

Cassandra sat at her desk, her fingers flipping through a stack of files, her focus fixed on a chilling case: the death of Michael Foster. The more she read, the clearer the connection became between the case and Antonio Franches, her contract husband. Her brow furrowed as she jotted down key points, trying to piece together how Foster’s mysterious death might tie into Antonio’s vast empire. The air around her felt heavy, charged with both curiosity and unease.

The sharp buzz of her phone shattered her concentration. Cassandra glanced at the screen, and her stomach tightened. It was a message from Antonio:

Meet me at my office during lunch. Don’t be late.

She exhaled deeply, feeling the invisible grip of Antonio’s control tightening around her. Despite her reluctance, she couldn’t ignore his summons. Closing the file, Cassandra rose from her chair and headed to the locker room. She stripped off her police uniform and changed into casual attire—a fitted blouse and black trousers—ensuring that Antonio would remain unaware of her true profession.

Moments later, she stepped out of the police station and hailed a taxi, her mind still buzzing with details from the case. The ride to Antonio’s office felt suffocating, her pulse quickening with every passing block. When she arrived at the towering glass building, she hesitated briefly before stepping inside.

The elevator chimed, and as she approached, her heart stopped for a moment. Antonio stood there, leaning casually against the elevator wall, his sharp suit as impeccable as always. His dark eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered the lobby.

“Cassandra,” Antonio greeted, his voice smooth yet laced with something mysterious. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of looking for me.”

Her mouth went dry, and she could only nod. It felt strange—Antonio rarely waited in the lobby. The fact that he was there made Cassandra feel uneasy. They entered the elevator together, the doors closing with a sound that seemed almost ominous.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the elevator. Cassandra avoided his gaze, her eyes fixed on the glowing floor numbers. However, Antonio clearly had no intention of keeping his distance. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, his tone playful yet laced with authority. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Cassandra’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’ve been busy,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tension surrounding her.

Antonio chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down her spine. “Busy, hmm?” he mused, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her neck. His lips grazed her ear, his whispers carrying a subtle threat. “You should make time for your husband, Cassandra.”

Her breath hitched as Antonio’s mouth trailed down to the nape of her neck, planting a deliberate kiss that sent an unwelcome shiver through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to resist the magnetic pull he always seemed to have over her.

“Antonio, stop,” she managed to say, her voice barely audible. But her plea only seemed to embolden him further.

“Why?” he whispered against her skin, his hand lightly grazing her arm. “You seem to enjoy it.”

Heat flushed her face, and she gritted her teeth. Just as she was about to push him away, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. Relief washed over her as she stepped out, putting the much-needed distance between them.

Antonio’s expression remained smug as he followed her toward his office. “We’ll talk inside,” he said smoothly, gesturing for her to enter first.

Cassandra’s heart pounded as she walked ahead, trying to regain her composure. She knew whatever awaited her inside that room would test her resilience, but she silently vowed not to let Antonio break her any further. This was a battle she couldn’t afford to lose.

Antonio closed the office door behind them and gestured toward a plush sofa. He settled himself casually, his posture confident, and motioned for Cassandra to sit across from him.

“Sit,” he said smoothly, the command in his tone masked by a veneer of politeness.

Cassandra obeyed, lowering herself onto the sofa, her movements stiff with tension. She tried to focus on the luxurious surroundings rather than the man in front of her. Antonio leaned back, studying her with a smirk that made her stomach churn.

“I’ve been thinking about our first night together,” he began, his voice low and teasing. “You were… surprising, Cassandra. I expect you’ll keep pleasing me like that.”

Her throat tightened, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. Inside, she felt disgusted, both by his words and by herself for what had happened. But outwardly, she forced a nod, unwilling to provoke him further. “Of course,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Antonio’s smirk widened, satisfied with her compliance. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. After a brief exchange, he ended the call and leaned forward slightly. “You’ll enjoy this,” he said cryptically.

Minutes later, the door opened, and Ben entered, carrying an elegant platter of sushi. The arrangement was exquisite, clearly imported directly from Japan. Ben set it down on the coffee table, bowed slightly, and left the room without a word.

“I want to give my wife the best,” Antonio said, gesturing toward the sushi. “Only first-class service for you.”

Cassandra’s gaze flickered to the sushi, then back to Antonio. “I’m just a lowly journalist,” she murmured, her tone self-deprecating. “I don’t deserve this.”

Antonio’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something sharper. He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Are you really just a journalist, Cassandra?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or are you something more… like a police officer?”

Her breath caught, and her heart raced as she struggled to keep her expression neutral. Antonio’s piercing gaze seemed to dissect her every move, and she realized with growing dread that the game she was playing had just become far more dangerous.