Escaping My Cold And Jealous CEO

The executive floor of Santana Corp was dead silent.

M. Thorne stood outside the heavy frosted glass doors of the CEO's office. He stared at the encrypted tablet in his hands. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple.

He took a deep breath, raised his knuckles, and knocked twice on the glass.

Inside, the main lights were off. The only illumination came from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing grid of Manhattan.

Barron Santana sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk. He was staring at a stack of PR releases regarding his engagement to Cheslie. His face was a mask of perfect, terrifying calm.

"Enter," Barron said. His voice was flat.

Thorne pushed the door open. He walked softly, his shoes making no sound on the carpet. He stopped in front of the desk and held out the tablet with both hands.

Barron didn't look up. He unscrewed the cap of his Montblanc fountain pen. "Report."

Thorne swallowed hard. His throat was dry. "Miss West did not return to her apartment tonight, sir."

Barron's hand stopped moving. The gold nib of the pen hovered a millimeter above the paper. A drop of black ink fell, bleeding into the crisp white page.

Barron slowly raised his head. His ice-blue eyes locked onto Thorne. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"She was picked up by Cassidy Gross," Thorne forced the words out. "He took her to The Plaza Hotel. To his penthouse."

Snap.

The sound echoed sharply in the quiet room. Barron had gripped the Montblanc pen so hard that the thick resin barrel snapped in half.

Black ink exploded over his fingers, splattering onto the cuffs of his custom French shirt.

Barron stood up. He shoved his chair back so violently it screeched against the hardwood floor. He snatched the tablet out of Thorne's hands.

He stared at the screen. It was a high-resolution photo taken by his private security team. It showed Cassidy Gross carrying Alexandrea in his arms, walking into the lobby of The Plaza. Her head was resting on his chest.

The image burned into Barron's retinas. His chest tightened so painfully he couldn't draw a full breath. The jealousy was a physical fire, burning up his throat, destroying every ounce of his legendary control.

"Get me the interior footage," Barron ordered. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Now."

Thorne rushed to the side console. He typed rapidly, hacking into the hotel's security feed. He cast the video onto the massive screen on the wall.

The video played in black and white. It showed the elevator. It showed Cassidy looking down at Alexandrea. It showed the way Cassidy's arm tightened around her waist.

Barron's vision went red.

He pulled his right arm back and slammed his fist down onto the tempered glass coffee table next to his desk.

The glass shuddered under the impact. The skin across Barron's knuckles split open. Blood welled up, mixing with the black ink on his skin.

Thorne took a quick step backward, terrified. He had worked for Barron for ten years and had never seen him lose physical control.

Barron grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk. He wiped the blood and ink off his hand with brutal, jerky motions. His chest heaved.

"Cancel all my meetings for tomorrow morning," Barron said, tossing the bloody tissue into the trash. "Cancel the board review. Cancel the press call."

He pointed a shaking finger at the frozen image of Alexandrea on the screen.

"The second she swipes her badge tomorrow," Barron said, his voice dripping with venom, "bring her straight to my office."

Thorne nodded quickly and practically ran out of the room.

Barron stood alone in the dark. He stared at the screen, his bloody hand clenched into a tight fist at his side.