The Billionaire’s Forbidden Toy

Chapter 4: The Dress He Sent

Six words.

That was all.

Six words on cheap paper, written in a shaking hand, and suddenly the air inside Voss Tower felt too thin to breathe.

Tessa snatched the note from my hand before I could fold it.

Her eyes moved over the words once.

Then again.

Then she looked at me with the exact expression I had been avoiding since yesterday.

Fear.

Real fear.

Not dramatic. Not sarcastic. Not Tessa threatening a billionaire with pepper spray because it made her feel better.

This was different.

This was the kind of fear that stood still.

“Alina,” she said quietly, “we are leaving.”

“We are already in the lobby.”

“No. I mean leaving this whole mess. Today. Now. Before the devil upstairs sends a car to collect you like a package.”

I stared at the note.

The paper trembled slightly between her fingers.

Or maybe that was my vision.

“Who gave it to me?”

“I don’t know.” Tessa looked toward the glass doors where the woman had disappeared. “But she looked like she hadn’t slept since 2019.”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

But the note ruined humor.

Celeste went with him and vanished.

The name had followed me from Cassian’s office to the elevator to this lobby.

Celeste.

Vivienne had said it like a warning.

Cassian had reacted like a locked door being touched.

Now a strange woman had run through security to tell me not to go tonight.

A sensible woman would have listened.

A very sensible woman would have marched upstairs, thrown the contract at Cassian’s face, and called the whole thing off.

Unfortunately, my mother’s procedure had already been paid.

And that changed everything.

Tessa saw the thought on my face and shook her head.

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. Your face is making stupid decisions.”

“Tessa—” “No.” Her voice sharpened. “Do not Tessa me. A woman just ran into this fancy prison lobby and told you another woman vanished after going with him. Vanished, Alina.”

I swallowed.

“I know.”

“Then act like you know.”

I took the note back from her and folded it carefully.

That seemed to make her angrier.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping it.”

“For the police?”

“For proof.”

“Proof of what? That this is dangerous? Congratulations, we have eyes.”

I looked up toward the top floors.

Cassian was somewhere above us.

Probably behind that huge desk, calm and expensive and impossible to read.

Had he watched the woman give me the note?

Did he already know?

Did he know everything before it happened?

The idea sent a chill through me.

“I need answers,” I said.

Tessa grabbed my wrist. “You need survival more.”

“My mother needs treatment.”

“Your mother needs you alive.”

The words hit hard.

Because Tessa did not say them cruelly.

She said them like someone who loved me enough to be afraid of the choices I could justify with pain.

My phone buzzed.

I flinched.

Tessa did too.

I pulled it from my bag.

Unknown number.

For a second, I just stared.

Then opened the message.

The car arrives at seven. Do not be late. — C.V.

Tessa leaned over my shoulder.

“Oh, I hate him.”

I should have hated the message too.

The command.

The arrogance.

The way he didn’t ask.

But beneath my fear, beneath my anger, something reckless moved.

Something that remembered his voice in the office.

How to enter a room like you own it.

How to use what people assume about you before they use it first.

Cassian Voss was a dangerous man.

But danger was not new to me.

Poverty was dangerous.

Hospitals were dangerous when you couldn’t pay.

Landlords were dangerous when rent was late.

Men who looked at poor girls like free entertainment were dangerous.

At least Cassian had never pretended he was safe.

“Come home,” Tessa said.

This time, I listened.

Not because I had decided not to go.

Because if I stayed in that lobby another minute, I might look up and see him.

And I was not ready for whatever my body would do if I saw Cassian Voss after reading that note.

Our apartment looked smaller when we got back.

The ceiling felt lower.

The walls thinner.

The sink had dishes from yesterday. The laundry basket leaned drunkenly in the corner.

Sunlight came through the cracked blinds in pale strips across the floor.

Real life.

Ugly, tired, familiar real life.

Tessa locked the door behind us, then locked it again, as if a billionaire might rise from the hallway smoke like a demon.

I sank onto the couch and unfolded the note.

Celeste went with him and vanished.

“Maybe it’s a lie,” I said.

Tessa stared at me.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m looking at you like you’re trying to talk yourself into a coffin because the coffin has good lighting.”

“It could be someone trying to scare me.”

“Yes. And maybe the ocean is soup.”

“Tessa.”

“Fine.” She dropped beside me. “Let’s be logical. Vivienne mentioned Celeste. Cassian shut down. Then mystery woman gives you a note saying Celeste vanished. That is not coincidence.

That is a red flag wearing heels.”

I leaned my head back against the couch.

“What if Celeste was part of the arrangement before me?”

“That makes it worse.”

“What if she disappeared for reasons that had nothing to do with him?”

“That makes it less worse, but still terrible.”

“What if he’s not the villain?”

Tessa went quiet.

I turned my head.

Her face had softened, but only a little.

“Alina,” she said, “sometimes men don’t have to be villains to ruin women. Sometimes they just have enough power that everyone else gets crushed when they move.”

That sentence stayed in the room.

Heavy.

True.

I looked at the note again.

Then at the contract folder on the table.

“I signed.”

“You can unsigned.”

“That is not a word.”

“It is when I’m stressed.”

I almost smiled.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Both of us froze.

A soft knock.

Polite.

Expensive somehow.

Tessa slowly stood. “If that’s him, I’m biting.”

“It’s not him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Cassian Voss does not knock softly.”

I hated that I knew that.

Tessa grabbed a kitchen knife anyway and moved toward the door.

“Tessa!”

“What? It’s a small knife.”

She looked through the peephole.

Then frowned.

“It’s a delivery guy.”

She opened the door with the chain still on.

A man in a black uniform stood outside holding a large white box tied with a dark ribbon.

“Delivery for Miss Alina Moreau.”

Tessa looked at the box like it was filled with snakes.

“From?”

“Voss Tower.”

Of course.

Of course.

Tessa took the box, closed the door, and set it on the coffee table as if it might explode.

We both stared at it.

“You open it,” I said.

“No. It has your name.”

“You have the knife.”

“I knew you would appreciate my preparation.”

I pulled the ribbon loose.

Inside was black tissue paper.

Beneath it lay a dress.

Not just a dress.

A sin.

Deep wine-red silk, soft enough to pour through my fingers like water. Thin straps. A low back. A slit that looked innocent until the fabric moved. Elegant, expensive, dangerous.

Under it was a pair of black heels.

And a small note.

Not handwritten.

Of course not.

Cassian’s words were printed on thick ivory paper.

Tonight, you are not serving the room. You are owning it.

Tessa read it and made a sound of disgust.

“Why does he speak like a perfume commercial for bad decisions?”

But I could not answer.

Because I had lifted the dress out of the box, and for one stupid second, I saw myself in it.

Not poor.

Not tired.

Not the girl who counted coins at midnight and smiled through humiliation.

Someone else.

Someone men would stare at and regret it.

Someone women like Vivienne would notice.

Someone Cassian Voss had chosen.

The thought warmed me.

Then frightened me.

Tessa saw it happen.

Her voice softened. “You want to go.”

I set the dress back into the box quickly. “I need to go.”

“No. You want to.”

I hated that she knew the difference.

I stood and walked to the window, looking down at the street.

Cars. People. Heat rising from pavement. The world moving like mine had not shifted completely in twenty-four hours.

“I want answers,” I said.

“And the dress?”

I closed my eyes.

“The dress helps.”

Tessa sighed behind me.

“God help us both.”

At seven exactly, the car arrived.

Not seven-oh-one.

Not six-fifty-nine.

Seven.

A black car stopped outside our building looking wildly out of place beside cracked sidewalks and faded paint. The driver stepped out before I reached the door.

Tessa stood behind me, arms folded.

“You text me every fifteen minutes.”

“I will.”

“If your phone dies, I’m assuming murder.”

“Reasonable.”

“If he touches you without permission—” “Tessa.”

“I’m serious.”

I turned to her.

In the tiny apartment hallway, wearing the dress Cassian had sent and heels I could barely afford to look at, I suddenly felt like I was walking toward a cliff.

Tessa’s face changed when she saw mine.

All the jokes disappeared.

She touched my cheek gently.

“You look beautiful,” she said.

My throat tightened.

“Too much?”

“No.” Her eyes shone a little. “You look like the version of yourself life tried very hard to keep hidden.”

That almost broke me.

I hugged her fast, before tears ruined my makeup.

“I’ll be careful.”

“No, you’ll be smart,” she whispered. “Careful girls still get trapped. Smart girls find exits.”

I nodded.

Then I left.

The driver opened the car door.

Inside, the seats smelled like leather and money.

I slid in and immediately saw a small envelope waiting beside me.

My pulse jumped.

I opened it.

One line.

Ask about Celeste tonight, and I send you home.

My blood went cold.

So he knew.

He knew about the note.

He knew I was warned.

And instead of explaining, he was controlling the question.

The car pulled away from the curb.

I looked back once.

Tessa stood outside our building, arms wrapped around herself, watching me disappear into the city.

For the first time all day, I wondered whether I had just made the kind of mistake women did not get to make twice.

The private dinner was not at the hotel.

It was at a mansion by the water, all glass walls and burning torches and expensive cars lined up outside like trophies.

By the time the driver opened my door, my hands were cold.

Music floated from inside.

Low.

Sensual.

Dangerous.

I stepped out carefully, the red dress sliding against my skin like it knew secrets I didn’t.

Cameras flashed near the entrance.

I froze.

The driver moved to block me, but a deep voice spoke from behind him.

“She’s with me.”

Cassian.

My body reacted before my mind could stop it.

I turned.

He stood at the bottom of the steps in a black suit, watching me.

Not the cameras.

Not the guests.

Me.

His gaze moved slowly from my hair to the dress to the slit revealing my leg, then back to my face.

The look in his eyes changed.

Just slightly.

But enough to make my breath catch.

He had sent the dress.

But maybe he had not expected me to wear it like this.

For one reckless second, I was glad.

Then I remembered the envelope in the car.

Ask about Celeste tonight, and I send you home.

I walked toward him.

“You knew about the note.”

His jaw tightened.

“Good evening, Alina.”

“Don’t good evening me.”

A camera flashed.

His hand came to my lower back.

Lightly.

Warm through the silk.

My whole body went still.

His mouth lowered near my ear, smile perfect for the cameras.

“Careful,” he murmured. “Everyone is watching.”

“Then let them.”

His fingers pressed once against my back.

Not painful.

Not forceful.

A warning.

Or maybe a promise.

I hated that my body couldn’t tell the difference.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.

My anger stumbled.

Only for a second.

Then I looked up at him. “And you look like a man hiding a body.”

His eyes darkened.

“Just one?”

My breath caught.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Before I could answer, the front doors opened wider.

Inside, people turned.

All at once.

Faces.

Jewels.

Whispers.

Predators in silk.

Cassian offered his arm.

I looked at it.

Then at him.

“Remember,” he said softly, “they will lie beautifully.”

I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm.

The room swallowed us in one breath.

And across the glittering crowd, standing beside the bar with a glass of red wine in her hand, was the woman from the lobby.

The one who had given me the note.

Only now she was dressed like a guest.

And when she saw me looking, she lifted her glass slightly.

Then mouthed one word.

Run.