Escaping My Cold And Jealous CEO

Alexandrea swallowed hard. Her throat clicked. She stared at Cassidy, waiting for the axe to fall.

Cassidy slowly reached over with his left hand and began to unwrap the gauze on his right hand.

He pulled the white tape away and held his hand up to her face.

Alexandrea squinted. There, pressed deep into his skin, was a perfect, angry red bite mark. It looked exactly like a dog bite. There was absolutely nothing romantic or sexual about it.

Her brain processed the image. She realized he had been playing her the entire time.

Anger flared in her chest. She shoved both hands against his bare chest, pushing him back.

"You jerk!" she yelled.

Cassidy stumbled back a half-step, throwing his hands up in the air. He burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Your face was just too good."

Alexandrea ground her teeth together. She spun around and marched toward the living room to find her boots. She was leaving.

Cassidy caught up to her in two strides. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers wrapping firmly around her pulse point.

"Wait," he said, his laughter fading. "I'm serious about the condition."

Alexandrea stopped. She yanked her arm, but he didn't let go. "What do you want?"

"I know your dad runs an underground MMA gym in Brooklyn," Cassidy said. "I want you to get me in. And I want you to be my sparring partner."

Alexandrea frowned. She looked him up and down. He had muscle, sure, but it was expensive, gym-built muscle.

"You're a tech CEO," she said bluntly. "That gym smells like blood and cheap sweat. The guys there will break your ribs for fun. You'll hate it."

"I have a lot of stress," Cassidy lied smoothly. "I need to hit something. And I want you to train me. You owe me for the hand."

Alexandrea stared at him. It was a ridiculous request, but she did bite him. She sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll text you the address."

Cassidy smiled. It was a genuine, victorious smile. He had his excuse to see her again.

Alexandrea walked to the couch. She shoved her feet into her heavy boots and bent down to grab her phone off the glass coffee table.

She pressed the power button. The screen lit up.

There was a massive block of notifications. Fifteen missed calls. All from Annie, her coworker at Santana Corp.

Alexandrea looked at the time at the top of the screen.

11:45 AM.

Her lungs seized. The air was sucked out of the room.

"Oh my god," she shrieked. "I'm three hours late!"

Barron Santana fired people for being three minutes late. Three hours was a death sentence.

She grabbed her jacket and sprinted toward the door like the floor was on fire.

"Hey! Let my driver take you!" Cassidy called out, following her to the hallway.

"No time!" Alexandrea yelled back.

She yanked the heavy door open, ran into the hallway, and let the door slam shut behind her with a deafening bang.

Cassidy stood in the sudden silence of his suite. He looked at the closed door. He looked down at the bite mark on his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the broken skin, a soft, self-deprecating smile touching his lips.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his assistant.

"Push my flight back to Silicon Valley," Cassidy ordered. "Indefinitely."

Down on the street, Alexandrea burst out of the hotel lobby. She ran to the curb, waving frantically at a yellow cab.

The cab screeched to a halt. She threw herself into the backseat.

"Santana Corp headquarters," she gasped, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Step on it."

As the cab merged into the chaotic Manhattan traffic, a cold, heavy dread settled in the pit of Alexandrea's stomach. She was walking straight into a slaughterhouse.