Trapped By The Coldhearted Billionaire's Game

Cassidy hit the mattress with a bounce, the heavy springs groaning under the impact.

Before she could even scramble onto her hands and knees, Jaret's weight crashed down on her. He pinned her wrists above her head, his large hands easily encompassing both of hers.

She thrashed beneath him, trying to buck him off, trying to bring her knee up, but he was too heavy, too strong. He forced his leg between hers, pinning her hips to the bed.

He stared down at her face—flushed with rage, eyes bright with unshed tears—and the fire in his eyes burned hotter. He didn't give her a warning. He didn't ask for permission.

He crashed his mouth down onto hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. His teeth scraped against her lips, bruising and demanding. He forced his tongue past her clenched teeth, invading her mouth, tasting the copper of her blood and the salt of her tears.

Cassidy kept her jaw locked, refusing to respond, refusing to give him an inch. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth—she didn't know if she had bitten him or bitten her own tongue.

His grip on one of her wrists loosened as his hand slid down, his fingers digging into the curve of her waist. He grabbed the hem of her dress, yanking it upward with a rough, impatient movement.

The cool air on her skin snapped the last thread of Cassidy's sanity. She couldn't let this happen. Not again. Not like this.

As his hand moved to adjust his weight, she felt the cool metal of the bedside lamp base beneath her free fingers.

She didn't think. She just acted.

She wrapped her hand around the heavy brass base and swung it with every ounce of desperate strength she possessed.

Jaret saw the movement at the last second. He jerked his head to the side.

The lamp connected with his shoulder with a sickening thud.

He grunted in pain, his grip on her faltering. He stared down at her, shock and disbelief warring in his eyes. The little mouse had claws.

Cassidy didn't waste the opening. She shoved him off balance and twisted her body around.

Her hand came up, and she put her entire body weight behind the slap.

Crack!

The sound echoed through the silent room like a gunshot.

Jaret's head snapped to the side, the force of the blow whipping his neck around. A bright red handprint bloomed instantly on his cheek. He froze, his body turning to stone.

From the doorway, Kade poked his head in, his eyes wide. He took one look at Jaret's face and immediately backed out, pulling the door shut. Dead woman walking, he thought.

Cassidy lay on the bed, her chest heaving, her hand stinging from the impact. She was shaking violently, but she kept her eyes locked on him, daring him to move.

Slowly, Jaret turned his head back to face her. The shock was gone. The desire was gone.

He didn't strike back. He didn't grab her throat. Instead, he slowly straightened up, his hand moving to his reddened cheek. When he looked at her, the shock in his eyes had curdled into something far more dangerous—a cold, deliberate fury that was worse than any blow.

"You have no idea what you just did," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step back, putting an unnerving distance between them rather than closing it. "But you will. By the time I'm finished, you'll understand exactly what it costs to strike me."

He stood there for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, a predator forcing himself back into his cage. Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, his back to her—a dismissal more terrifying than any threat.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Cassidy lay alone on the bed, her body trembling, her hand still stinging, the silence around her heavier than any scream.