Chapter 2

The Porsche tires squealed as Cassidy pulled into the underground parking garage of The Plaza Hotel.

He put the car in park and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to Alexandrea. She was slumped against the window, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Cassidy unbuckled her belt. He stepped out of the car, walked around to her side, and scooped her into his arms.

Alexandrea didn't fight him. Her head rolled against his chest. Her hands reached up, her fingers weakly gripping the fabric of his dress shirt.

Cassidy carried her toward the private elevator reserved for the penthouse suites. He pulled a sleek black keycard from his pocket and tapped it against the sensor. The doors slid open instantly.

He stepped inside. The elevator shot upward at a dizzying speed.

The sudden loss of gravity made Alexandrea groan. Her stomach churned. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face harder into Cassidy's chest.

"Almost there," Cassidy murmured. He adjusted his grip, holding her a little tighter to keep her steady.

The doors opened to the top floor. Cassidy carried her down the wide, silent hallway. He kicked open the heavy oak door to his suite and walked straight into the massive living room.

He stopped at the center of the room and gently lowered Alexandrea onto the deep, velvet cushions of the sofa.

The second her back hit the cushions, Alexandrea let out a frustrated sound. She kicked her legs out in frustration, sending one of her heavy combat boots slipping off her foot. It landed heavily on the thick Persian rug with a dull, muted thud.

Cassidy sighed. He stepped over the discarded boot on the floor and reached up to loosen his tie.

Suddenly, Alexandrea shot up from the couch. Her eyes were wide open, completely red, and completely blind to her surroundings.

"Barron!" she screamed.

The name ripped out of her throat. It was a sound of pure, agonizing heartbreak. Tears spilled over her eyelashes and tracked rapidly down her cheeks.

Cassidy froze. His hands dropped from his tie. A sharp, ugly spike of jealousy hit his chest.

He closed the distance between them and grabbed her shoulders, trying to push her back down. "Alexandrea, lie down. You're drunk."

Alexandrea fought him. The combat instincts buried in her bones took over. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fists, and yanked him downward with terrifying strength.

Cassidy lost his balance and fell forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of her head.

Their faces were inches apart. Alexandrea blinked. Her eyes tried to focus on his features.

She saw the dark hair. She saw the warm brown eyes. It wasn't the cold, ice-blue stare she wanted. It wasn't him.

A fresh wave of devastation crashed over her. She let out a broken sob.

The pain in her chest was too much. She couldn't breathe. She needed an outlet. She grabbed Cassidy's right hand, pulled it to her mouth, and sank her teeth into the thick muscle between his thumb and index finger.

She bit down hard.

Cassidy sucked in a sharp breath. The pain was instant and piercing. His muscles locked up.

Blood welled up around her teeth, warm and metallic. It smeared against the corner of her lips.

Cassidy didn't pull away. He didn't yell. He looked down at her face, covered in tears and twisted in agony, and the anger in his chest completely dissolved. It was replaced by a heavy, suffocating need to protect her.

He gritted his teeth against the pain. He lifted his left hand and pressed it against the back of her head, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here."

Slowly, the tension drained out of Alexandrea's jaw. Her teeth released his hand. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she went completely limp against the cushions, falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

Cassidy carefully pulled his bleeding hand away. He looked at the deep, crescent-shaped puncture wounds. Blood dripped onto the velvet couch.

He stared at her sleeping face. He knew, right then, that he was in deep trouble.