The Billionaire’s Forbidden Toy

Chapter 5: The Woman Who Told Me to Run

The woman mouthed it so clearly I felt the word hit my chest before my brain fully understood it.

Run.

My fingers tightened around Cassian’s arm.

He felt it immediately.

Of course he did.

Nothing seemed to move through my body without his permission to notice.

His head turned slightly toward me, his mouth still curved in that controlled, public smile that looked perfect for cameras and completely false up close.

“What did you see?” he murmured.

I looked away from the woman too quickly.

Big mistake.

Cassian’s gaze sharpened.

“Alina.”

The way he said my name was quiet, but it slid beneath the music like a command.

I kept my own smile in place because half the room was staring at us, and I was beginning to understand this was not just a dinner.

It was a stage.

And Cassian had brought me here to perform.

“Nothing,” I said.

His hand covered mine where it rested on his arm.

Warm.

Firm.

Possessive enough to make my pulse jump.

“Lying is unattractive when you’re bad at it.”

I turned my head and looked up at him.

“Then stop making me practice.”

For one second, his eyes darkened with something dangerously close to amusement.

Then it vanished.

“Stay beside me.”

“I thought I was supposed to own the room.”

“You own it by surviving it first.”

That should not have scared me.

It did.

The mansion was full of beautiful people pretending not to watch us.

Women in silk dresses.

Men in tailored suits.

Diamonds bright enough to hurt.

Low music.

Soft laughter.

Champagne being carried by servers who moved with the same careful invisibility I knew too well.

Yesterday, I would have been one of them.

Tonight, I was on Cassian Voss’s arm, dressed in red silk, with every important person in the room trying to decide whether I was a lover, a scandal, or a mistake.

Maybe I was all three.

A man approached us first.

Older.

Silver hair.

Smooth smile.

The kind of smile men wear when they have ruined lives and slept well afterward.

“Cassian,” he said, holding out a hand. “I didn’t expect you to come tonight.”

Cassian shook his hand.

“I’m sure.”

The man’s eyes moved to me.

Too slowly.

My skin tightened.

“And this is?”

Cassian’s fingers pressed lightly over mine before I could answer.

“Alina Moreau.”

Not my assistant.

Not my date.

Not my employee.

Just my name.

Somehow that made it worse.

The man smiled. “Lovely.”

I gave him the same smile rich women had given me when I served them drinks.

Polite.

Empty.

Sharp underneath.

“Thank you.”

His eyes lingered on my dress.

“You look familiar.”

“I served champagne at The Velvet House last night.”

The man blinked.

Cassian went very still beside me.

Good.

Let him wonder if I had done it on purpose.

I had.

The man’s smile faltered, then recovered.

“How charming.”

“Isn’t it?” I said.

Cassian’s thumb brushed once over my knuckles.

A warning.

Or praise.

Again, impossible to tell.

The man excused himself quickly.

The second he was gone, Cassian leaned close enough that his breath touched my ear.

“Careful.”

“You keep saying that.”

“You keep needing it.”

“I thought you wanted people to underestimate me.”

“I want them to. I don’t want you to underestimate them.”

That quieted me.

Because underneath the arrogance, there was something else.

Information.

Maybe even concern.

Before I could answer, a woman laughed from across the room.

Vivienne Laurent.

Of course.

She stood near the fireplace in a silver dress this time, one hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall man beside her. Her eyes were on me, bright with the kind of pleasure women take when they believe they already know how your story ends.

She raised her glass.

I did not raise mine back.

“Former fiancée at two o’clock,” I muttered.

Cassian’s mouth moved. “You noticed.”

“I have eyes.”

“You also have jealousy.”

I almost choked.

“Excuse me?”

He looked down at me, face unreadable.

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Do you call every woman a liar?”

“Only when she lies.”

I smiled brightly for the room.

Under my breath, I said, “You are unbearable.”

His hand slid from mine to my lower back as he guided me forward.

The touch was light.

Polite enough for public.

Intimate enough to ruin my breathing.

“And yet,” he said, “you came.”

My face heated.

The worst part was not that he noticed.

The worst part was that he looked satisfied.

“Because you paid my mother’s bill.”

“Yes.”

“Not because I wanted to.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth.

“No?”

My heartbeat betrayed me.

Again.

I hated my heart.

I hated the dress.

I hated the way his hand felt steady at my back, like he owned the space behind me and every threat in it.

Then I saw her again.

The woman from the lobby.

She stood near a hallway on the far side of the room, half-hidden behind a tall arrangement of white flowers. Up close, she looked younger than I first thought. Maybe late twenties. Pale, thin, nervous. Her beige coat was gone, replaced by a dark green dress that looked elegant but not new.

Her eyes found mine.

She shook her head once.

Small.

Urgent.

Cassian’s hand tightened at my back.

This time, I knew he had seen her too.

“Do not move,” he said softly.

Of course, every foolish part of me immediately wanted to move.

“Who is she?”

“No one.”

“That seems to be your favorite kind of woman.”

His eyes cut to mine.

Dangerous.

Not playful now.

“Alina.”

There was a warning in his voice.

A real one.

But before he could say more, a waiter stopped beside us with champagne.

Cassian took one glass and handed it to me.

I stared at it.

“I’m working, remember?”

“Tonight, you sip. You don’t drink.”

“That sounds like a rule.”

“It is.”

“I don’t like rules.”

“I know.”

The way he said it made my stomach dip.

Low.

Warm.

Annoying.

A voice came from behind us.

“Cassian, darling.”

Vivienne.

She joined us with the confidence of a woman entering territory she still considered partly hers.

The man beside her disappeared into the crowd, either dismissed or wise.

Her gaze slid over me.

“Alina, you look transformed.”

I smiled. “You look exactly the same.”

Her mouth tightened.

Cassian made a small sound under his breath.

Almost approval.

Vivienne heard it too.

Her eyes flashed.

“I hope he warned you what tonight is really about,” she said.

Cassian’s voice hardened. “Vivienne.”

I tilted my head. “He prefers not to explain things. It makes him feel mysterious.”

Vivienne laughed.

This time, it sounded almost real.

“Oh, you are amusing.” She sipped her wine. “That wears off quickly here.”

“Does it?”

“Everything does.”

Her eyes flicked toward Cassian.

Something old passed between them.

Not love.

Not exactly.

But history.

The kind that leaves fingerprints even after it leaves the room.

I hated noticing.

I hated more that it bothered me.

Vivienne stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“This room is full of men who collect pretty women like art, Alina. They admire. They display.

Then they lock them away when they become inconvenient.”

“Is that what happened to Celeste?”

The name left my mouth before I could stop it.

Cassian went still.

Not tense.

Still.

Like the whole room had frozen around him.

Vivienne’s smile faded slowly.

Behind her, across the crowd, the woman in green looked at me with wide, terrified eyes.

I had broken a rule.

Good.

Rules had never saved women like me anyway.

Cassian’s hand left my back.

The absence felt colder than it should have.

Vivienne looked at him first.

Then at me.

“You really don’t know,” she said softly.

My throat tightened.

“Know what?”

Cassian stepped closer to us.

“Enough.”

His voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

Vivienne laughed once, but it shook slightly.

“Still protecting your ghost?”

A muscle worked in Cassian’s jaw.

For the first time since I met him, I saw something in his eyes that was not control.

Pain.

Fury.

Warning.

All braided together.

Vivienne’s smile returned, but it was thinner now.

“Careful, Alina. He hates questions almost as much as he hates answers.”

Then she walked away.

I turned to Cassian.

“What happened to Celeste?”

His eyes met mine.

The room was moving around us. Laughing. Drinking. Lying beautifully.

But between Cassian and me, everything had gone sharp.

“I warned you,” he said.

“Yes. You did.”

“And you ignored me.”

“Yes. I did.”

His gaze dropped to my lips for one dangerous second before returning to my eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re touching.”

“Then tell me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because some truths are not yours.”

That hit harder than I expected.

Maybe because he was right.

Maybe because I hated that he was.

Before I could answer, the woman in green moved.

She slipped down the hallway.

Alone.

Fast.

My body reacted before sense could catch me.

I stepped away from Cassian.

His hand closed around my wrist instantly.

Not hard.

But firm enough to stop me.

“Don’t.”

I looked down at his hand.

Then up at him.

“Let go.”

His eyes darkened.

For one second, neither of us moved.

Then he released me.

Slowly.

Like it cost him something.

“Alina,” he said, low enough for only me. “If you follow her, you will not like what you find.”

I swallowed.

“Maybe I’m tired of only finding what men allow me to.”

Something changed in his face.

Not softness.

Not exactly.

But he let me go.

I turned and walked after the woman.

Every nerve in my body screamed that this was stupid.

Tessa would have tackled me by now.

Unfortunately, Tessa was not here.

The hallway was dimmer than the main room, lined with paintings and doors that looked decorative but probably hid rooms full of secrets. The music faded behind me. My heels clicked softly against the floor.

At the end of the hallway, the woman stood near a narrow balcony door.

She was shaking.

When I reached her, she grabbed my hand.

Her fingers were ice cold.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.

“You told me to run.”

“And you came closer.”

“I’m bad with instructions.”

Her laugh came out broken.

Then she looked past me, checking the hallway.

“Listen carefully. I don’t have much time.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Mara.”

Not Celeste.

Something in me both relaxed and tightened.

“You gave me the note.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because no one warned Celeste until it was too late.”

My pulse jumped.

“What happened to her?”

Mara’s eyes filled with panic.

“She was like you. Beautiful. Poor. Smart enough to know better, desperate enough to ignore it.”

Her grip tightened. “He made her feel chosen. Protected. Untouchable.”

“Cassian?”

She shook her head quickly.

“I don’t know what he was to her. Savior. Lover. Prison. Maybe all three. That’s how men like him ruin the truth. They make everything feel like a choice.”

The words sank into me.

Painfully.

“Where is she now?”

Mara looked toward the main room.

“She disappeared after the winter gala last year. Officially, she left the country. Unofficially…” Her voice broke.

“What?”

“She called me the night before she vanished. She said she had found the red room.”

My skin went cold.

The red door.

The restricted hallway.

The room I had seen Cassian standing in front of.

“What red room?”

Mara stared at me.

Then she whispered, “The one where he keeps the things he doesn’t want the world to see.”

A sound came from behind us.

Slow applause.

Once.

Twice.

Slow.

Mocking.

We both turned.

A man stood at the far end of the hallway.

Not Cassian.

Older. Silver-haired. Smooth smile.

The man from earlier.

The one who had looked at me too long.

The one I had told I served champagne.

His eyes settled on Mara.

“Well,” he said. “That was disappointing.”

Mara went pale.

I stepped back, but he moved forward with two other men behind him.

Security?

No.

Not security.

Worse.

Private.

The silver-haired man smiled at me.

“Miss Moreau,” he said. “You really should have stayed with Voss.”

Mara shoved me behind her.

“Run,” she whispered.

This time, I listened.

I grabbed my dress and ran.

The hallway blurred.

My heels slipped against the polished floor. Someone shouted behind me. Music grew louder as I raced toward the main room, heart hammering, breath tearing in my throat.

I turned the corner too fast and slammed into a hard chest.

Strong arms caught me.

For one terrifying second, I fought blindly.

Then his voice cut through me.

“Alina.”

Cassian.

I looked up.

His face changed the second he saw mine.

Whatever he read there turned him terrifying.

Not angry.

Not worried.

Worse.

Lethal.

“What happened?”

I grabbed his jacket with shaking hands.

“The man from earlier. He—Mara—she told me about Celeste and the red room and then he came with men and—” Cassian’s eyes went completely black.

Not literally.

But close enough that my breath stopped.

He looked over my head toward the hallway.

Then he pulled me behind him.

One smooth, protective movement.

The silver-haired man appeared at the end of the hall.

Still smiling.

Still polished.

But the smile faded when he saw Cassian.

Good.

Cassian’s voice was soft.

Deadly.

“Leave.”

The man lifted both hands. “Misunderstanding.”

“No,” Cassian said. “This is the part where you choose whether you walk out or get carried.”

The room around us began to notice.

Faces turned.

Whispers sharpened.

The man’s jaw tightened, but he stepped back.

Coward.

His men followed.

Cassian did not move until they disappeared.

Then he turned to me.

His hand came up, stopping just short of touching my face.

As if he wanted to.

As if he was furious with himself for wanting to.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

His eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Then stop hiding things from me.”

The words came out breathless.

Angry.

Afraid.

His jaw tightened.

For one moment, I thought he would argue.

Instead, he took my hand.

“Come with me.”

“No.”

His eyes cut to mine.

I forced myself not to step back.

“The last time someone said that about you, she vanished.”

Pain crossed his face.

Real this time.

Fast, but real.

Then he leaned closer, voice low enough that the room could not steal it.

“Celeste didn’t vanish because she came with me.”

My throat went dry.

“Then why?”

His fingers tightened around mine.

“Because she ran from me.”

The music seemed to fade.

The room tilted.

Cassian looked past me toward the hallway, then back at my face.

“And if you want to live long enough to hate me properly, Alina, you’ll stop doing exactly what she did.”

Before I could breathe, scream, argue, or demand the rest of the truth— the lights went out.

And in the sudden darkness, someone grabbed me from behind.