Chapter 40: Pretty Cage

I stopped myself before that thought finished forming.

My brain, traitorous as ever, launched straight into fantasy.

In one version, Alexander noticed me during a meeting and asked my name, genuinely interested. In another, he handed me a coffee during a break and asked if it was my first time in Spain. In another, I made a mistake and instead of punishment, he helped me fix it.

I knew I was building him up in my head. I knew it. But still, he seemed kind. Accomplished. Attractive in a way that did not feel dangerous. And most importantly, he did not look like someone who would blackmail another person into sexual compliance.

That alone felt like a miracle.

I looked at his photo again.

Three weeks might not be so bad after all. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. Proof that not everyone with power was cruel. That there were still good people in the world.

I was smiling. Actually smiling. For the first time since this nightmare trip had begun.

“What are you smiling about?”

The voice cut through my thoughts instantly. Cold. Sharp. Familiar.

I jerked upright, nearly dropping the tablet as Cassian stared at me from across the aisle, his expression unreadable.

Nothing. I fumbled, holding the tablet tighter. “Just reading about the project.”

His eyes narrowed. “The project specs are making you smile?”

“It’s impressive,” I said quickly. “The scope. Very impressive.”

He said nothing. Just watched me for several long seconds, like he was peeling layers off my thoughts one by one.

“Focus on the work, Bennett. We land in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

I dropped my gaze back to the tablet and forced myself to look busy. Professional. Composed. Absolutely not thinking about kind billionaires with warm smiles.

I could feel Cassian’s attention linger before he finally looked away. I exhaled slowly, waited, then sneaked one last glance at Alexander’s photo.

Three weeks. I could survive three weeks. Especially if there was someone actually good waiting on the other side of this trip.

The plane began its descent.

….

The hotel was exactly what I should have expected.

Five stars. Probably six if that was a thing.

The SUV pulled up to an entrance so pristine it looked like it had been power-washed five minutes ago. Marble columns. Gold accents. Doormen in uniforms that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

Both doormen straightened immediately when they saw the SUV.

One of them opened Cassian’s door before we’d even fully stopped.

“Mr. Wolfe, welcome.”

Cassian stepped out with the same fluid grace he did everything, adjusting his cuffs once before striding toward the entrance.

I scrambled out after him, nearly tripping over my own feet.

No one held the door for me.

I caught it just before it closed in my face.

Inside, the lobby was… intimidating.

High ceilings. Marble floors so polished I could see my reflection. Modern art on the walls that probably cost more than my student loans. Everything was white and gold and aggressively elegant.

There was no check-in counter.

No line.

No waiting.

A man in an impeccable suit appeared within seconds, moving toward Cassian with the kind of speed that suggested he’d been watching the entrance like a hawk.

“Mr. Wolfe.” He smiled, warm but professional. “Your suite is ready, sir. Everything as requested.”

Cassian didn’t break stride. “Good.”

The manager practically bowed.

Not a full bow… this wasn’t a period drama, but his posture dipped, shoulders curving forward in deference.

I followed Cassian through the lobby, feeling distinctly out of place.

He moved like he owned the building.

Hell, maybe he did.

We reached an elevator bank at the far end, separate from the main elevators, tucked away behind a subtle marble partition.

The elevator led us straight into to the suite that occupied the entire top floor.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sunlight pouring in and turning everything into a golden glow. Minimalist furniture, white, black, chrome. Clean lines. Nothing unnecessary. Spotless.

Living area with a sectional couch that could seat twelve people. Dining area with a table I could’ve done yoga on. A full kitchen that looked like it had never been used.

And a bar.

Fully stocked.

That’s definitely been used.

I stood in the entrance, frozen, trying to process the sheer space of it.

Cassian walked past me like this was normal.

Because for him, it probably was.

“Your room is down the hall,” he said without looking back. “Second door on the left.”

I blinked. “My room?”

“Did you think you’d be sleeping on the couch?”

I hadn’t thought about it at all, actually.

I walked down the hallway he’d indicated, passing what was clearly Cassian’s suite.

The door was open.

I caught a glimpse: king-sized bed with stark white linens, an attached office visible through another doorway, floor-to-ceiling windows leading to a private balcony.

Of course he has a private balcony.

My room was smaller.

Obviously.

But still nicer than my entire apartment.

King bed. Pristine white sheets. En-suite bathroom with a rainfall shower. A desk with a lamp and outlets. Windows overlooking the city.

It was beautiful.

And it felt like a cage.

Close enough to be summoned easily. Far enough to maintain hierarchy.

I understood immediately.

I’m accessible.

I’m owned.

This is a pretty cage, and Cassian holds the key.

I set my bag down on the bed and walked back out into the living area.

Cassian was already working.

Laptop open on the dining table, phone pressed to his ear, speaking rapid Spanish in a tone that sounded like he was giving orders.

I stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

And that’s when I noticed them.

Two men.

Standing so still I’d almost missed them.

Dark suits. Earpieces. Hands folded in front of them. Eyes scanning the room with the kind of alertness that screamed security.

Neither of them looked at me.

Not even a glance.

But when Cassian moved, both of their gazes tracked him immediately.

They’re here for him.

Only him.

I’m just furniture.

I walked back to my room, closed the door, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Pulled out my phone.

Seventeen missed calls from my mother.

I turned it off and lay back, staring at the ceiling.

I could survive this…

Right?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep