The rest of the drive was a blur of painkillers and silence.
We abandoned the wrecked SUV and piled into Claudia's pristine white Range Rover. She looked at my blood-spattered sweater with undisguised disgust but didn't say a word. Cassian's mood was a thunderhead—dark, volatile, and ready to break.
By the time we reached the coast, the sun was setting, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold. We didn't stop at a normal hotel. We drove onto a private ferry that took us across a stretch of black water to an island that wasn't on any tourist map.
The Elysium.
It rose from the cliffs like a modern fortress of glass and steel. It was beautiful, intimidating, and reeked of money.
As the car rolled to a stop under the massive portico, Cassian turned to me in the backseat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
"Listen to me closely," he said, his voice low. "From the moment we step out of this car, Elena Vance does not exist."
My heart skipped a beat. "Then who am I?"
He flipped the box open. Inside sat a diamond ring large enough to choke someone. It was a radiant cut, flanked by rubies that looked like drops of blood.
"You are Elena Moretti," he said, taking my left hand. His fingers were warm, his touch firm as he slid the heavy ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. "You are my fiancée."
I stared at the ring, the weight of it foreign on my hand. "Fiancée? Cassian, I can't act like—"
"You can and you will," he cut me off, his eyes locking onto mine. "This place is neutral ground, but it is swarming with sharks. If they think you are my ward, they will see you as a weakness. If they think you are my wife-to-be, they will see you as property. Property is respected. Weakness is exploited."
"Property," I repeated, the word tasting bitter.
"It keeps you alive," he said simply. "Stay by my side. If anyone speaks to you, smile and say nothing. Let me handle the monsters."
The door opened. A valet in a white uniform bowed low.
Cassian stepped out first, buttoning his jacket to hide his shoulder holster. He turned and offered me his hand. I took it, stepping out into the salt air.
As soon as my feet hit the pavement, Cassian changed. He pulled me flush against his side, his arm wrapping around my waist like a steel band. It wasn't the protective hold from the crash site; this was possessive. Territorial. It was a message to everyone watching: Touch her and die.
We walked into the lobby.
It was breathtaking. towering marble pillars, chandeliers dripping with crystal, and men in tuxedos speaking in hushed tones. But underneath the glamour, I felt the danger. The men at the bar weren't just businessmen; their eyes tracked the exits. The women in silk gowns had smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
"Cassian!" A voice boomed across the lobby.
A man approached—older, with silver hair and a smile that looked like it had been bought from a shark.
"Don Ricci," Cassian nodded, his grip on my waist tightening imperceptibly.
"I heard about the trouble on the road," the man said, eyeing me with predatory curiosity. "A shame. But I see you managed to save the... precious cargo."
"My fiancée," Cassian corrected smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Elena."
The man's eyebrows shot up. "Fiancée? You kept that quiet, Vance. I didn't know the Shadow Syndicate allowed for romance."
"We make exceptions for the exceptional," Cassian said, turning his head to look down at me.
For a second, the act felt too real. The way his eyes darkened, the heat of his hand burning through my sweater. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, and I looked down.
"Charmed," Don Ricci murmured, losing interest. "We'll see you at the auction tomorrow."
Cassian steered me toward the elevators, ignoring the whispers that trailed in our wake. Claudia was already there, tapping her foot impatiently.
"That was subtle," she muttered as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing us in. "'Exceptions for the exceptional'? Really, Cassian? You're laying it on a bit thick."
"It has to be convincing," Cassian said, watching the numbers climb.
"Well, try not to convince yourself," Claudia snapped. "We have a job to do. The meeting is in ten minutes in my suite."
"I'm not going to the meeting," Cassian said.
The elevator dinged. Penthouse Floor.
"Excuse me?" Claudia bristled.
"I need to secure Elena," Cassian said, steering me out into the plush hallway. "I'll join you in an hour. Rook will stand guard outside her door."
Claudia let out a frustrated huff but didn't argue. She stalked off down the hall toward her own room.
Cassian stopped in front of a double door at the end of the corridor. Room 101. The Master Suite. He swiped a black key card, and the lock clicked open with a heavy, expensive sound.
He ushered me inside and locked the door behind us, throwing the deadbolt.
The room was larger than the entire ground floor of the estate. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean, a massive living area, a private bar... and through the archway, the bedroom.
I walked in, my exhaustion finally catching up to me. I dropped my bag on the velvet sofa and looked toward the bedroom.
I froze.
"Cassian," I said, my voice quiet.
"What?" He was already at the window, checking the perimeter, closing the blackout curtains.
"There's only one bed."
He turned, glancing at the massive King-sized bed that dominated the other room. It was draped in black silk sheets.
"Yes," he said, unholstering his gun and setting it on the nightstand. "It's a suite."
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"
"In the bed, Elena."
I felt my face heat up. "And... where are you sleeping?"
He looked at me as if I had asked a stupid question. He began to unbutton his bloodstained tactical vest, pulling it off to reveal the black t-shirt underneath that clung to his chest.
"I am sleeping in the bed," he said calmly. "Beside you."
"We can't," I stammered, clutching my hands together. The ring on my finger flashed. "Cassian, that's... inappropriate."
He paused, his hands still on his belt. He walked toward me, closing the distance until I had to crane my neck to look up at him.
"Inappropriate?" He let out a dark, dry laugh. "Elena, people are actively trying to kill you. Do you think I'm going to let you sleep in a separate room? Or on a couch where I can't reach you instantly?"
"But..."
"You are my fiancée," he whispered, stepping closer until his thighs brushed mine. "Fiancées sleep in the same bed. And until we leave this island, you are not leaving my sight. Not for a second. Not even to dream."
He reached out, his thumb brushing my lower lip, tracing the tremble there.
"Get changed," he ordered, his voice dropping to a rumble. "And don't worry. If I wanted to touch you... you wouldn't be wondering about it."