Separate Roads I Fought For

Cassian stood before us with a full line of bodyguards behind him, his expression ice-cold—death walking on two legs.

Damn it. Even like this, he was absurdly gorgeous.

Exactly my type: tall, aristocratic, the kind of man who dimmed everything around him just by breathing.

Cassian’s gaze locked with mine first.

Before I could even pretend not to be embarrassed, his eyes slid downward, straight to where my hand was still resting on the male model’s bare, open chest.

A heartbeat later, I heard the unmistakable click of a trigger being pulled.

One of his guards had a gun pressed to the model’s temple.

I silently pulled my hand back.

Cassian’s stare froze the air itself. He didn’t even spare me a word, just spat a single command at the poor model:

“Leave.”

The pretty boy’s face drained of all color. He bolted for the exit with the other models.

I also turned, trying to quietly slip away.

But before I got a single step, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me flush against him.

“Who allowed you to come to a place like this?”

“I go wherever I want.” I tilted my chin, defiant. “What does it have to do with you?”

Cassian’s eyes darkened.

For a second, I truly thought he’d just order a bullet through my skull.

Instead, the next moment, without warning, he threw me over his shoulder like I was a damn sack of rice.

“Cassian! Are you insane?! Put me down! You bastard!”

I punched his back, kicked, squirmed, but Cassian marched forward without reacting to any of it.

He carried me out of the club and shoved me into a waiting black Rolls-Royce.

“Drive.”

“Yes, Don.”

The car lurched forward. I instantly twisted away from him, grabbed the door handle, and tried to open it.

Cassian didn’t even bother stopping me.

He just took a slow sip of coffee from a bone-china cup, as if kidnapping women was part of his morning routine.

“Don’t waste your energy,” he said smoothly. “It’s an armored car. You think you can open it?”

My hand froze. I glared daggers at him.

He looked right back at me:

“Didn’t you read the marriage contract? It’s clearly written.”

Of course I hadn’t.

Cassian leaned in then, close...too close...his face inches from mine, our noses almost brushing.

If he kissed me right now…I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to push him away.

“The contract states,” his voice grazed my lips, “that as my wife, you are strictly forbidden from entering bars, nightclubs, or any place like this. You didn’t read it?”

He released me then, not kissing me.

While he kept lecturing, I rolled my eyes internally.

“From now on, you are banned from places like this. And for today’s behavior, you will go to church and confess to the pastor.”

…Church? Confess?

My chest rose and fell violently as I fought a laugh.

Cassian, do you really think I’m still the girl from last lifetime?

Your obedient little puppet?

In this life, I would rather die than repeat that mistake.

I all but screamed:

“Confess?! Oh please. Dream on, Don! What does your marriage contract have to do with me? I’m not marrying you!”

Silence dropped like a bomb.

Cassian’s head snapped toward me, eyes dark and unreadable.

He stared for a long, dangerous moment before forcing out four strained words:

“What. Did. You. Say?”

My mind cleared instantly.

If he found out the bride had been switched...if he learned he’d been dumped...I’d never make it onto my plane alive.

“It’s nothing. I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

He exhaled sharply. “When will you learn to obey?”

“Never. I was born like this.” I met his gaze. “I don’t like being controlled.”

As we argued, the Rolls rolled to a stop at my family’s villa.

Demi stepped out, with soft dress, gentle smile, the picture of angelic obedience.

I laughed inside.

Cassian, there.

Your perfect little doll.

Demi spoke sweetly: “I just came back from church. I confessed on behalf of my sister, asking the Lord to forgive her prideful temperament.”

Cassian’s gaze shifted to me, the message in his eyes unmistakable:

Look at her.

Now look at you.

Worlds apart.