Chapter 2
As Anastasia stormed out of the private room, she collided with someone walking in the opposite direction.
A distinctly masculine scent hit her—sandalwood with hints of amber—sending an unexpected wave of heat through her body.
The man wore a black Tom Ford shirt with the top button undone, revealing a glimpse of his defined collarbone. His tailored black slacks completed the look of understated luxury, his entire presence radiating the confident power of someone who commanded rooms without trying.
The dim hallway lighting carved shadows across his chiseled features—his expression distant, cold, untouchable, yet undeniably magnetic.
As he frowned slightly and prepared to move past her, Anastasia’s slender fingers suddenly gripped his shirt sleeve, the expensive fabric smooth beneath her touch.
Her heart raced as his scent clouded her judgment. With the bitter taste of Jasper’s betrayal still fresh, a rebellious thought crossed her mind-if Jasper could play dirty, why couldn’t she have some fun too?
“Let go,” the man commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
“No,” she replied, deliberately softening her voice to a silky purr, looking up through her lashes.
The man looked down at her, his gaze traveling slowly from her eyes to her lips, a slight curl forming at the edge of his mouth.
“No?” he repeated, leaning in slightly. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. Sure you can handle the burn?”
“Would you be interested in marrying me?” Anastasia blurted out, her eyes challenging him despite the pink flush spreading across her cheeks.
Even Anastasia thought she’d lost her damn mind.
Yet she was dead serious about finding someone to marry—anyone who could help her escape Jasper’s shadow.
Her grandmother, Elisabeth Paige, wasn’t getting any younger and desperately wanted to see her settled down. She’d been discussing marriage with Jasper for months, but that ship had clearly sailed—and sunk—now.
Anastasia couldn’t bear to break her grandmother’s heart, and she needed to slam the door shut on any possibility of crawling back to Jasper.
Any man would be better than that cheating bastard.
The stranger wore no ring. Available, then.
Worth a try, wasn’t it?
Plus, he smelled like sin and salvation combined—a scent that made her want to inch closer rather than pull away.
In this moment, despite the alcohol buzzing through her system, her mind felt unusually clear.
The man’s expression shifted as his fingertips tilted her chin upward, his touch electric against her skin. His eyes—dark and assessing—took in her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and defiant gaze. She was trouble wrapped in a Valentino dress.
It was her.
“Are you certain about what you’re offering?” His thumb brushed lightly across her lower lip. “Do you even know who I am?”
Anastasia’s eyes widened in sudden recognition, her body tensing under his touch.
Cassian Rhodes.
Holy shit.
Who was Cassian Rhodes?
Only the most feared name on Wall Street—a financial wunderkind who’d built an empire before thirty, powerful enough to make global markets rise or fall with a single decision.
Cassian Rhodes was New York royalty with looks to match his bank account, with every socialite from Manhattan to Monaco angling for his attention. His business reputation was legendary, his methods ruthless. Anyone foolish enough to cross him professionally needed a new career—in another country.In short, he was the apex predator in a city full of sharks.
Staring at his severe features, Anastasia’s confidence wavered. She felt a primal urge to flee.
Their paths had crossed twice before.
Once during a hostile negotiation where she was being professionally cornered—Cassian had intervened with a single cutting remark that silenced the room.
Later, at some charity gala where Jasper had dragged her as arm candy, she’d discovered her mysterious benefactor was Rhodes himself—a man who made billionaires nervous just by entering the room.
Smart people stayed out of Cassian Rhodes’ way unless invited in.
Anastasia’s pulse quickened. What had she just done?
Had he recognized her from those brief encounters?
But remembering Jasper’s crude comments about Valeria, Anastasia straightened her spine and doubled down.
“I’m certain.” She deliberately stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. “Completely certain.”
Even if she was walking straight into the devil’s lair in Christian Louboutins, she wasn’t backing down now.
Anastasia wanted to show Jasper that not only could she move on—she could move up.
“I’m dead serious, Mr. Rhodes. This isn’t a game.” Her voice dropped lower. “Unless you want it to be.”
“Isn’t it?” His voice dropped lower, fingers still resting against her jawline. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Or am I just your revenge fuck?”
His tone made the crude words sound like poetry.
“I saw you hanging off some trust fund brat at the Guggenheim benefit.”
