Chapter 2

The water in the rooftop pool was a perfect, crystalline blue.

It was deceptive, mimicking the very depths that had claimed my life once before.

I stood near the edge, a glass of untouched champagne sweating in my hand, watching the sun bleed below the New York skyline.

The air was heavy, thick with humidity and the sharp, chemical sting of chlorine.

Alexander had cornered me here.

He wasn't happy about the message I had sent to the Goldens.

News traveled fast in the underworld.

Faster than bullets.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Azalea," Alexander said, invading my personal space.

He smelled of expensive cologne masking something foul-the scent of moral rot.

He wore his arrogance like a suit of armor, confident that I was still just a confused girl throwing a tantrum.

"Darrian Golden will peel your skin off just to send me a message. You think he wants a wife? He wants a hostage."

"I think I prefer a wolf to a snake," I replied, refusing to meet his gaze.

Isolde Booker laughed.

It was a light, tinkling sound, brittle as glass.

She lounged on a deck chair nearby, wearing a white bikini that left nothing to the imagination.

In my past life, I had bought her that bikini.

I had brought her into this penthouse, treated her like a sister because she was an orphan with a sad story.

I didn't know she was warming Alexander's bed while I was busy planning our wedding.

"Oh, Azalea," Isolde cooed, rising and sauntering toward us. "You're just stressed. The pressure of the legacy is getting to you. Alexander is only trying to protect you."

She reached for my arm, her nails painted a blood red.

I stepped back instantly. "Don't touch me."

Isolde smirked.

She glanced at Alexander, a silent, conspiratorial signal passing between them.

Then, she threw herself backward.

It was a clumsy, theatrical stumble, calculated for an audience of one.

She shrieked, her arms flailing, and her hand snagged the strap of my dress.

She yanked hard.

My center of gravity vanished.

The world tilted sideways, and then the water rushed up to meet me.

*Splash.*

The cold was a shockwave.

It paralyzed me for a heartbeat.

My dress, heavy with beads and silk, drank up the water instantly, dragging me down like a lead anchor.

Panic, sharp and familiar, clawed at my throat.

*Not again. Not again.*

I kicked, fighting the crushing weight.

Through the distorted, shimmering surface, I saw them.

Alaric and Darrius, the guards assigned to "protect" me, were rushing toward the pool.

But they didn't reach for me.

"Isolde!" Alexander shouted, diving in.

He swam right past me.

He kicked a spray of water into my face as he reached for his mistress, who was flailing in the shallow end, perfectly safe.

The guards knelt by the edge, reaching out to help Alexander lift Isolde out.

I was sinking.

My lungs burned.

The chlorine stung my eyes, blurring the betrayal into a wash of color.

I watched them fuss over her on the pool deck.

"She pushed me!" Isolde was sobbing, choking on air. "She tried to kill me, Alexander!"

"It's okay, baby, I've got you," he soothed her, wrapping a towel around her shaking shoulders.

Nobody looked at the water.

Nobody looked for the heiress of the Kidd family.

A cold, hard rage ignited in my chest.

It burned hotter than the fear.

I wasn't going to die here.

Not this time.

I kicked harder, my muscles screaming in protest.

I clawed at the water, dragging the dead weight of my dress upward.

My hand breached the surface, grasping the cold metal of the ladder.

I hauled myself up, gasping, coughing water onto the expensive tile.

I lay there for a moment, shivering violently.

My hair was plastered to my skull.

My mascara ran in dark rivulets down my cheeks.

I looked like a ruin.

Alexander turned to look at me, his eyes cold and annoyed. "Look what you did, Azalea. You're hysterical. Go to your room before you embarrass the family further."

Alaric smirked, offering me a hand. "Need a lift, Princess?"

I looked at his hand.

The hand of a traitor.

I slapped it away.

I pushed myself up, my legs trembling but holding my weight.

Water dripped from my dress, pooling around my feet.

"I don't need your help," I said, my voice raspy but cuttingly clear.

I stared at Alexander, then at Isolde, who was hiding a smile behind her towel.

"Enjoy the water," I whispered.

"It's the last time you'll see me drown."