Sneaking out was surprisingly easy. I grabbed a jacket, checked my reflection, my hickeys were mostly hidden by the collar, and headed down. I made a vague excuse to the security team in the lobby about needing 'fresh air and a specific brand of Spanish cigarettes.' They looked at each other, then back at me. I was Cassian Wolfe's personal assistant; they weren't paid to tackle me unless I was being kidnapped.
I slipped out into the humid Spanish night, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was the first time I'd felt like I was breathing in weeks.
Alex was waiting in a sleek, dark car a block away. When I climbed in, the scent of his cologne, something crisp and expensive, filled my senses.
"You came," he said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. He was wearing a casual button-down, the top two buttons open. He looked… incredible.
"I needed to get out," I said, trying to sound bolder than I felt. "Cassian thinks I'm a porcelain doll."
