Chapter 8

"Enter."

Barron's voice cut through the heavy door. It was flat, devoid of any human warmth.

Alexandrea pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped inside. The air conditioning was turned down so low it felt like a meat locker. A violent shiver racked her body.

Barron was standing with his back to her, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He was staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below.

Alexandrea walked forward, stopping exactly three paces away from his massive mahogany desk. She kept her eyes glued to the floor.

"Mr. Santana," she said, her voice small and trembling. "I apologize for my extreme tardiness. I am ready to accept any disciplinary action."

Barron didn't turn around. A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest. It was a terrifying sound.

He pulled his right hand out of his pocket. He picked up a small black remote from his desk and pressed a red button.

Click.

The heavy lock on the office door engaged. Simultaneously, the motorized blinds on the glass walls whirred to life, sliding down and sealing the office off from the rest of the floor.

Alexandrea heard the lock click. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She took a step backward, her combat instincts screaming at her to find an exit.

Barron finally turned around.

Alexandrea gasped. His ice-blue eyes were bloodshot. The veins in his neck were standing out. He looked like a predator that had been starved for weeks.

He stepped around the desk. His long legs ate up the distance between them.

Alexandrea kept backing up. "Sir-"

Barron didn't stop. He backed her up until her shoulder blades hit the freezing glass of the window. There was nowhere left to go.

Barron's right hand shot out. His large fingers wrapped around her slender wrist like an iron vice.

He yanked her arm up and pinned it flat against the glass above her head.

Alexandrea let out a sharp cry of pain. She brought her free hand up to pry his fingers off, but Barron stepped into her space. His hard chest pressed flush against hers, using his body weight to trap her completely against the glass.

He lowered his head. His nose brushed against her jawline. He inhaled deeply.

The faint, expensive scent of Cassidy Gross's custom cologne clung to Alexandrea's hair and clothes.

The smell hit Barron's brain like a match dropped into gasoline. His last shred of sanity burned away.

He jerked his head back. His eyes were wild, dark, and lethal.

"Whose bed were you in last night?" Barron snarled, his voice a vicious, guttural whisper.

Alexandrea's eyes widened in shock. Her brain short-circuited. She forgot to fight him.

When she didn't answer immediately, Barron's grip on her wrist tightened until her bones ground together.

"Are you already looking for your next meal ticket?" Barron spat, his words dripping with acid. "Selling yourself to the highest bidder outside company hours?"

The words slashed through Alexandrea's chest like a serrated knife. A wave of sickening humiliation washed over her.

He was the one who just got engaged to a billionaire heiress. He was the one parading his new fiancé on national television. And he was calling her a whore?

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She tipped her chin up, her eyes flashing with defiance.

"What I do on my personal time has nothing to do with Santana Corp," she fired back.

Barron's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. His free hand flew up, his fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to look directly into his furious eyes.

"As long as you cash my paychecks," Barron said, his breath hot against her face, "you belong to me. Every second of your time belongs to me."

Alexandrea stared at him, her chest heaving against his, the sexual tension and pure hatred suffocating them both in the locked room.