Chapter Five
1382 Words
"Don't make a sound," a harsh voice ordered from behind the black tactical mask.
My throat went dry. The barrel of the gun stared back at me like an endless void. The assassin’s boots ground over the shattered glass, each step echoing through the room, as he stepped across the threshold and moved through the entrance, entering my bedroom.
"Who ordered you here?" I whispered; my hands trembled as I slowly lifted them to my chest. "What are you here for?"
"Julian says hi," the man said, his tone disturbingly relaxed. "He said if you refuse to cooperate, a tragic suicide would make a much better headline anyway. 'Heartbroken bride ends her life with a fatal fall from the balcony.' It’s clean."
Julian. He wasn't waiting for the auction. He knew I had gone to tell Alexander. He was tying up loose ends.
"Wait," I begged, my voice trembling as I pressed myself against the headboard. "I can get you the files. I'll get them right now. Just call him. Tell him I'll do it."
"The time for negotiation has passed; you missed your chance to bargain, sweetheart. Orders must be followed."
The man lifted his arm, his finger slowly curling around the trigger. I forced my eyes shut; I held myself still, waiting for the moment for everything to go black.
BANG
The noise came as a low, heavy slam, followed immediately by a heavy, unsettling impact as something collapsed onto the ground.
My eyes snapped open. The assassin had collapsed onto his knees; his eyes were wide and empty as a dark stain spread across the white carpet beneath him. Standing in the broken doorway to the balcony, it was Alexander, standing there with a heavy glock resting firmly in his bleeding hand.
He was no longer wearing his tuxedo jacket; his white shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and stained with droplets of fresh blood. His eyes were wide, with a rage so intense that it made him look completely less of a human.
"Are you injured?" he snapped, placing the weapon down on the mattress and gripping me firmly by the shoulders.
He drew me closer; his hands gripped me with urgency as he checked my neck and my arms; his touch was unexpectedly warm against my cold skin.
"No... no," I stuttered, my eyes fixed on the man lying lifeless on the floor. "He... he was on the verge of…"
"Julian is becoming careless," Alexander barked, pulling out an encrypted cell phone and dialing a one-digit speed dial. "West wing. We have a mess that needs to be cleaned up. Increase security to the highest level; any unauthorized movement is to be dealt with on sight. He hung up, his grip still tight on my arms. The wild panic in his eyes was already gone, replaced by that familiar, emotionless act.
"You’ll be staying in my wing," he ordered.
"What?" I looked up at him, my head spinning. "But you said…"
"I don't give a damn about what I said, Clara. That was before my brother brought a gun into my house," he snapped, pulling me off the bed by my wrist. His hold was unbreakable, like iron around my skin. “He’s desperate. Which means he’s dangerous. You're not safe on this side of the building."
"I can’t trust you to protect me either!" I cried, struggling to pull my arm free as he pulled me down the hallway. "You just took someone’s life right in front of me!"
"I saved your life," Alexander shot back. He stopped abruptly in the hallway, twisting me around forcefully until my back slammed against the wall. He moved closer to me, his chest pressing against mine, his breath heavy and warm. "Let that sink in. If I wanted you dead, I would have let him finish the sentence."
"You only saved me because you need me alive!" I fired back, the fear burning away, leaving me brave enough to throw the words back at him. "You don't care whether I live or die! I'm just nothing more than a tool for your revenge!"
Alexander’s gaze sharpened into something dangerous. He remained still. Rather, he moved closer, his body pinning me against the cold stone wall until I could feel every hard muscle of his chest. The tension between us was an undeniable chemistry, a raw attraction none of us could deny. My heart no longer trembled from fear; it ached for him instead.
"You're absolutely right," he whispered. His voice was soft but intense, which sent a shiver down my spine. "Spare me your emotions. No one lays a hand on what’s mine, Clara. Not my brother, not the cartel, nobody. You're my wife. Your life belongs to me until I decide otherwise."
The pressure on my wrist disappeared as he let go, leaving a noticeable red mark on my skin, and walked away into the shadows of the east wing hallway. He kept walking without checking if I was behind him. He knew I had no other alternative.
I stood frozen for a moment, struggling to breathe. I hated him. I hated how easily he bent my world to his will, and I hated how a sense of safety washed over me the instant he pulled me close. But when I looked back toward the hallway leading to my bedroom, I understood the truth.
I followed the monster into his territory.
He led me to a massive suite located at the end of the east wing.
It stood apart from the rest of the house, with dark mahogany finishes, heavy dark gray velvet curtains, and a massive bed carrying the subtle scent of tobacco and his clean skin.
"Stay here," he said, pointing towards the bed. "I’ll be in the office next door. The doors can be locked from this side, but I have the passkey. Don't do anything stupid."
"I’m too tired to make any stupid choices," I muttered, dropping onto the edge of the bed. Fatigue pressed down on me like a crushing burden, making my head feel unbearably heavy.
Alexander approached the office door, his fingers wrapping around the brass handle. He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder through the shadows.
"The auction begins at ten tomorrow," he said calmly. "Julian thinks he’s in control because he has his father's digital signature. But tomorrow, I am going to strip him of everything until he has nothing left. And you're going to be the one that helps him dig his own grave."
"What do you mean?" A fresh wave of fear twisted through my stomach.
Alexander’s expression shifted into that captivating, wicked smile.
"Tomorrow, in front of the entire high-society board, you are going to stand up and publicly accuse your former fiancé of financial fraud and corporate treachery," he said softly. "And if you fail to comply... I’ll ensure the evidence from tonight’s shooting turns up in your father’s cell before noon."
Before I could find my voice to scream at him, he entered the office and the door locked with a sharp click.
I was boxed in. I had become a helpless piece on the chessboard of two ruthless madmen, and tomorrow, I had to choose which one to destroy.
Hours crawled by in a restless, fearful sleep.
Click.
The faint metallic sound woke me immediately.
I opened my eyes to the darkness of the bedroom. The door to Alexander’s office was slightly open, a thin beam of yellow light falling across the carpet.
I stayed still, waiting for his imposing figure to step into view. But the figure that slipped through the opening was far too small, too thin.
A strong, sweet scent of French perfume hung in the air. Before I could even open my mouth to scream for Alexander, a leather-gloved hand covered my mouth, forcing my head into the mattress.
"Shh... don't make a sound, little bride," Vivienne’s voice whispered out of the dark. Her gaze flickered with desperation and madness. In her other hand, she held a medical syringe tightly, the sharp needle reflecting the silver light of the moon. "Alex sees himself as the only person capable of taking charge. But you're about to become another tragedy everyone will believe."
The silver needle hovered inches above my jugular.
- Writer
