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“Is that your blood?”

I smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Is that concern I detect in your voice, Cassandra? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine.”

“That’s too bad,” she mutters before her gaze grows sharper. “If it’s not your blood it’s someone else’s. You killed someone tonight?”

“Several people in fact,” I answer honestly.

Blood drains from her face with the admission, “What kind of sick person are you?”

“The kind you’re going to marry. Now, I’m going to change and then we’re going to enjoy a nice dinner with my sister.”

“I’m not eating with you!” she snaps. “I want nothing to do with you.”

I remain calm as she whirls around, ready to return to her room.

“Cassandra,” I call, stopping her in her tracks. “You’ll be allowed to call your friends in the morning.”

That has her looking back at me, renewed hope in her expression.

“Why are you allowing me to do that?”

“Because you need to invite them to the wedding. It’s happening in a week and I’m sure you’d like their presence there.”

Her lips part and I watch as her eyes fill with shock and terror. Unfortunately on her, the sight of fear is nowhere near appealing. I’m more annoyed and plagued with the need to dispel it and ensure she never has to feel it again.

“Since you’ve declined my invitation for dinner, you can return to your room. I’ll see you in the morning,bella.”

She shoots me one last glare before practically running up the stairs and away from me. I watch as she leaves, wondering exactly how to proceed with the situation.

I have one week to figure out a way to get her to walk down the aisle without being forcibly dragged to the altar. Which means I need to somehow convince her that marrying me isn’t the death sentence she thinks it is.

Should be a piece of cake.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CASSIE

“One week?!” Chloe screeches over the phone.

I’m currently on facetime with my best friends. My phone is set on the table as I look at their faces through the screen, feeling a small measure of comfort that’s eluded me in days.

“Technically six days now,” I correct dryly.

Three days until I’m a beautiful blushing bride, walking down the altar to a man whose guts I hate. My life has been overturned so much in the past week, I can’t even recognize it anymore. I don’t recognize me anymore. Before my trip to Ibiza, things were pretty simple, uncomplicated.

I had a job as a manager at my father’s company. A job that some would argue I got simply because of nepotism. But I worked hard for it and I always did my best. It was a little boring, sure and sometimes I wanted some more spark to my life.

But this. This isn’t a fucking spark. It’s a fire raging through everything I know and believe.

“How can you be so calm right now?” Maxine questions, her forehead scrunched together. “We need to figure out a way out of this.”

She’s always so quick to offer up solutions to problems.

“There’s no way out of this, Maxy,” I murmur.

“We talked to the police,” Chloe offers. “But it didn’t help much. As soon as we said his name, I could tell they checked out of the matter. They’re not going to do anything to him are they?”

“Doubtful. He’s got a lot of power, a lot of hold in the city. Don’t worry girls, I’m not expecting a savior to get me out of this situation.”