She pressed her palm against his one more time, blood mixing between their hands. "Come with me," she said quietly.
Daniel looked back at Jimmy, who stood frozen behind the bar. The bartender's face had gone white as fucking snow. His hands shook as he stared at the blood drops on his wooden bar.
"Jimmy, I—" Daniel started.
"Just go, man," Jimmy whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just... fucking go. Whatever this is, I don't want any part of it."
The whole bar had gone quiet. Even the young couple from earlier sat in shocked silence, the girl still clinging to her boyfriend's arm like her life depended on it. Everyone was staring at them, at the blood, at whatever the hell had just happened.
Daniel felt their eyes burning into his back as they walked toward the door. The cool night air hit him as they stepped outside, but he barely felt it. Everything seemed surreal, like he was watching someone else's life unfold.
A sleek black Mercedes sat at the curb, engine running. She walked straight to it like she owned the whole fucking street.
"This yours?" Daniel asked, running his hand along the pristine hood.
"Get in," she said, sliding behind the wheel with practiced ease.
The leather interior smelled expensive – new car smell mixed with something else he couldn't place. She pulled into traffic smooth as silk, navigating the city streets like she'd driven them a thousand times before. Daniel watched the neon lights blur past his window, the whiskey still making everything soft around the edges, but his head was clearer now. The cold air and adrenaline had sobered him up some.
"Where exactly are we going?" he asked, studying her profile in the dashboard light.
"Somewhere we can be alone," she said without taking her eyes off the road.
They drove in comfortable silence for fifteen minutes. Daniel kept stealing glances at her. She drove with confidence, hands steady on the wheel, like she was completely in control of everything around her. Her cut palm had stopped bleeding, leaving small red smears on the steering wheel that looked almost artistic in the dim light.
The hotel was downtown – one of those fancy places with marble everything and doormen who probably made more in tips than Daniel made in a month. She handed her keys to the valet without even looking at him, like having people serve her was the most natural thing in the world.
The lobby was all crystal chandeliers and polished floors. Everything screamed money and class. She walked straight to the front desk like she belonged there, spoke to the clerk in a low voice Daniel couldn't hear. The guy handed over two key cards without asking for ID, credit cards, or any of the usual bullshit. Just smiled and nodded like she was royalty.
"How'd you pull that off?" Daniel asked as they headed toward the elevators.
"People like to help me," she said simply.
In the elevator, Daniel watched the numbers climb. Third floor. Fifth floor. Seventh floor. The whiskey was still working through his system, but he felt more aware now, more present.
"I realized I never got your name," he said. "We just did that whole blood thing and I don't even know what to call you."
She looked at him in the mirrored walls, those dark eyes studying his face. For a moment, she seemed to be deciding whether to tell him.
"Cassandra," she said finally.
"Cassandra." The name rolled off his tongue, felt right somehow. "I'm Daniel. Daniel Reeves."
"Daniel Reeves," she repeated, like she was tasting it. "What do you do, Daniel Reeves?"
"Finance. Corporate investment stuff." He rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble there. "Work for Meridian Holdings downtown. Same company for eight years."
"What happened with your wife exactly?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "There's this guy Richard on the board. Bastard's been there forever, has connections I'll never have. That's how he got close to Sarah in the first place – company parties, business dinners. I was stupid enough to trust them both."
"But you still work there?"
"Yeah, well, bills don't pay themselves. Even if I have to see his smug fucking face in every board meeting." Daniel's voice got hard. "Sarah got the house, most of our savings. I'm stuck in some shithole apartment eating ramen and pretending everything's fine."
Cassandra nodded like she understood perfectly. "That must be difficult."
"Difficult doesn't begin to cover it." Daniel laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to know what's really fucked up? I still love her. After everything she did, I still wake up missing her."
The elevator dinged softly as they reached the fifteenth floor.
They walked down a long hallway lined with expensive artwork. Daniel noticed how quiet it was up here – no sounds from other rooms, no TV noise, nothing. The whole floor felt empty, like they were the only people in the world.
She stopped at room 1547 and slid the key card. The door opened with a soft electronic beep.
The room was incredible. King-size bed with crisp white sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows showing the city spread out below like a glittering circuit board. Everything was spotless and expensive – the kind of place Sarah always wanted to stay but they could never afford.
Cassandra walked to the windows and looked out at the lights. "Nice view," she said.
Daniel took in the room – mini bar in the corner, sitting area with leather chairs, fresh flowers on the mahogany table. The whole place probably cost more for one night than he made in two weeks.
"This is some high-end shit," he said. "You always stay in places like this?"
"I like nice things," she said, turning back to him. "You should clean up. You smell like that bar."
Daniel became aware of himself suddenly – wrinkled suit, stubble, the lingering smell of whiskey and cigarettes. Here he was with this gorgeous woman who clearly had money and class, and he looked like he'd been sleeping in his car.
The bathroom was all white marble and gold fixtures. Thick Egyptian cotton towels, expensive soaps and lotions. Everything Sarah would have loved – she always had a thing for luxury hotels, fancy spa treatments. Maybe that's part of why she left him for Richard. The bastard could give her the lifestyle Daniel never could.
He stripped off his rumpled suit and stepped into the shower. The water pressure was perfect, hot and strong against his skin. He stood there longer than necessary, letting the heat work out the tension in his shoulders, wash away the smell of Jimmy's bar and his own self-pity.
The expensive soap felt good against his skin. He scrubbed away the dried blood from his palm – the cut was already healing, just a thin red line now. He washed his hair, his face, trying to make himself presentable for whatever was about to happen.
Daniel caught himself in the bathroom mirror as he dried off. His eyes were clearer now, the shower helping to burn off the last of the whiskey fog. He looked better – cleaner, more human. For the first time in months, he felt like maybe he wasn't completely fucking hopeless.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and ran his hands through his damp hair. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. Maybe Cassandra could help him forget Sarah, forget Richard, forget all the shit that had been eating him alive for months.
He stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, feeling more confident than he had in weeks. But when he opened the bathroom door, his breath caught in his throat.
She'd changed. The long elegant dress was gone, replaced by something that made his pulse quicken. Short black dress that hugged every curve, showed off legs that went on forever. Her hair was different too, styled in a way that made her look dangerous and beautiful and completely fucking irresistible.
Daniel stood there dripping, trying to form words, but all he could do was stare at her perfect body outlined in that tight dress.
She walked toward him slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. When she was close enough that he could smell her perfume, she reached out and touched his chest with her fingertips. The touch was light, almost teasing.
She smiled, and something about it made his skin tingle. "Are you ready, darling?"