He didn't say Follow me.He didn't ask Will you come?
He just walked.
And somehow, I did too.
The elevator was silent. No music. Just his scent lingering in the narrow space—expensive, masculine, the kind that didn't belong anywhere near a girl like me.His office had been on the 57th floor. His penthouse? 61st.
Four floors up, and I already felt like I was falling.
His Apartment.
The door clicked shut behind me. No lock. No keypad. No fucking way out. Cassian tossed his blazer over a leather chair. He didn't look at me right away. He didn't have to.
"You signed the contract.""That means you'll play by my rules."
I stood there, caught somewhere between the hallway and the living room, like even my body wasn't sure if I should be here.
"What is this? Some kind of welcome party?"
"If you want it to be. Then start by stripping."
His tone wasn't sharp. It was flat. Dry. Like he wasn't angry—just waiting.
He stepped closer. No threats. No rush. Just the weight of his presence pressing down on me.
"You want to understand how this game works?Then start playing."
I should've walked out. Slammed the door. Told him to go to hell.
But I didn't.
Instead, I peeled off my shirt. Then my jeans.
Slowly. Wordlessly.
"Any faster and I'd think you were eager to be used."
I stood there in nothing but my underwear. My bra already halfway off.
"You're not the first guy to think I'm cheap."
"You're not cheap, Lexa. Just easy to ruin."
He walked to a drawer. Opened it like it was nothing.Pulled out a collar—smooth black leather. No embellishments. No chains. Just the promise of ownership.
"You wear this when you want me to touch you.Only then. Understood?"
I nodded. Slowly.
He stepped behind me. Fastened it at my throat. Not tight. But tight enough to change something. His fingers slid down my spine. Then lower. Between my thighs.
"Wet. Again."
"I've never been good with boundaries."
"That's why I like you."
I bent forward. Braced myself against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city shimmered beneath me like a million flickering lies.
And Cassian stepped behind me.
No more talking. No gentle warning.
Just the hard thrust of reality.
I gasped—fingers clawing at the glass as he filled me. Fast. Deep. Like he didn't care if I could take it.
"Say it," he growled behind me."Say you're mine."
"I'm yours."
"Louder."
"I'm yours, Cassian!"
His grip tightened. His pace turned brutal.I stopped thinking. Stopped breathing.
All that was left was sweat, skin, and his name on my tongue. And then — A sound. Faint. Mechanical. A soft click, like a camera starting to record. But by then, it didn't matter. Because I was already his.
"Get out."
Cassian's voice was low. Unshaken.He didn't look at me as he said it. Just stood by the window, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like nothing had happened.
Like I hadn't just let him fuck me against glass, still wearing the collar he put around my throat.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't make me say it again. We're done for tonight. You've served your purpose."
That word hit harder than his thrusts had.
Purpose. Like I'd been a thing. A hole. A fuck.
"Is this how it's going to be?"
"If you can't handle that, you can leave the job too. No one's forcing you."
I stood there, still bare, still throbbing, still dripping down my thighs, and he wouldn't even look at me. Wouldn't see me. I pulled my clothes on in silence. No bra. No dignity. Just the wet ache between my legs and the tightness in my chest.
Later – My Apartment
I didn't even bother with lights. I just dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the bathroom floor. Everything stank. My clothes. My skin. My thoughts. I turned the water on. Cold. Too cold. Let it burn down my spine like punishment. What the fuck had I done? My reflection in the mirror looked nothing like me. Smudged mascara. Lips swollen. Eyes glassy. I touched the collar still hanging from my neck. Still fastened. Had I really walked home with it?
"You're not cheap, Lexa. Just easy to ruin."
God, fuck him. I tore it off, threw it in the sink.
But the bruise on my throat stayed. The soreness inside me stayed.And so did the emptiness. I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped into the hallway, water dripping from my hair, down my bare legs — And froze.
The apartment door was open. Just slightly. Just enough. And then:
"You shower without locking the door now?"
The voice.
Rough. Familiar. Dangerous.
My heart stopped. I turned. There he was.
Dante.
Black shirt. Blood under one knuckle. Smile like a fucking nightmare I never wanted to wake from.
"Miss me, cara mia?"