Chapter 3 New Obsession

Alaric's POV

"My name is Cassandra, not 'Bride-to-Be'," she said, downing the rest of her Mai Tai in one defiant gulp.

I had to clench my jaw to keep from laughing in her face.

Where did this fiery little bride-to-be come from?

She slammed the glass onto the bar and shot me a defiant smile, as if finishing her drink was akin to winning an Olympic medal.

"Who's the chick now?" she challenged, trying to act tough, even though her hands trembled slightly and her eyes held a lost, almost shattered look.

It wasn't much, but it was a massive step forward. I didn't usually meddle in anyone's life—I was the most selfish guy I knew—but it wasn't every Friday I stumbled upon a bride-to-be looking like her sash and crown weighed a ton.

I was sure her bachelorette party was downstairs, and the most logical thing would have been to send her back to her friends... but tonight, I didn't feel like being alone either.

"Definitely not you, Cassandra," I replied, playing along, and gestured to the bartender for another round.

The poor bartender almost choked on his own spit trying to hold back a laugh. It wasn't every day the club's owner showed up entertaining a woman at the bar.

Cassandra blinked, already half-buzzed, as she stared at the fresh drink.

"I thought it was only one shot..." she murmured with a pout.

I took a slow sip of my own. The initial sweetness gave way to a sharp bite of rum that cleared my head.

"But we're just getting warmed up. The night is young, beautiful."

She was staring at me. When I caught her looking, she snapped her gaze away, as if making eye contact physically burned.

I studied her profile: long eyelashes fighting back tears, pink lips pouting... A tiny crease formed between her brows, like the drink was poison. That raw innocence was the sexiest thing I'd seen in a long time.

"I'm not good at holding my liquor," she finally confessed.

I let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

"What a shame... for you to spend a fortune on such a handsome gigolo yet waste the night."

The bartender coughed, his face flushing beet-red.

Cassandra's eyes widened as her brain processed the joke. Then a smile broke across her face—the kind that could completely disarm any man.

"You're right. I'm not going to waste the opportunity. Besides, it's my bachelorette party," she declared, grabbing the glass and downing it in one go.

I opened my mouth to tell her not to drink it so fast like that... and then closed it. Whatever. She should have fun.

I was barely halfway through my first, and she had just polished off her third. She slammed the empty glass down, her eyes already glassy, her liquid courage soaring.

"Now what?" she asked, looking like a kid waiting to open presents.

I polished off my drink.

"Care for some shots?"

She didn't use words; she just beamed as if she owned the world.

The night had truly just begun.

The bartender started lining up shots. Cassandra, now fearless, knocked them back one after another as if they were pineapple juice.

Her hands stopped shaking. Her laughter grew louder, ringing out as if we were the only two people in the room.

"I can't believe it!" she burst out, laughing at every piece of nonsense I spun to keep her entertained.

I never expected a girl like her to have so much nerve. There was something about her laughter that made everything seem lighter. She wasn't the type to trauma-dump when she got drunk. Instead, as the alcohol took the wheel, Cassandra simply forgot the drama entirely.

"Did you really let me con you out of all that money?" I asked, setting down the shot glass.

She pouted, waving a dismissive hand.

"I don't care about those money. Keep it."

She started singing—badly—to Ice Spice's "Did It First". She climbed up onto the barstool, then hopped down to the floor, dancing and belting out the lyrics at the top of her lungs.

The few people around watched her with a mix of amusement and shock. This wasn't the main dance floor downstairs, and dancing up here was strictly frowned upon... but who the hell was going to complain to the owner?

She kept spinning, laughing between verses. I didn't even realize I was smiling until she came running over, grabbed the front of my shirt, and hauled me out of my seat.

"You're not just going to stand there and watch, are you?!" She dragged me toward the center of the room.

I arched an eyebrow as the laughter from the onlookers grew louder. She ripped off her "Bride-to-Be" sash, tossed it onto the floor, and grabbed my collar, pulling me down to her eye level.

"Dance, handsome. I paid you, which means if I start running around naked, you run right after me. Understood?"

Somebody was suddenly feeling like the boss.

"Yes, ma'am. Your wish is my command," I replied, swallowing a laugh.

It was a good thing I didn't have two left feet.

With every song that played, she loosened up a little more. Eventually, I caught the eye of my security team and signaled them to clear the area so we could have the floor to ourselves.

Now, the space was entirely hers. A slow song came on, but her energy didn't dip. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her waist—so slender I felt like I might break her. I hesitated for a fraction of a second. I didn't want to pull her too close, afraid I might lose my legendary control.

Oblivious to my internal struggle, she pressed herself flush against me. Her soft curves molded to my chest. Then came her low, playful voice right against my ear.

"Now who's the chick?"

Damn. She had absolutely no idea what kind of fire she was stoking, or how intoxicating she smelled.

I kept smiling, even as I felt the undeniable hardening in my pants. I had officially dug my own grave.

She laughed again—until she felt my erection pressing against her. But instead of backing away scared, it only amused her more.

My lips could only twitch into a strained smile.

Then, just as suddenly, her laughter died. She snapped her gaze away and buried her face in my shirt. A violent shudder of pain ripped through her small frame. My chest tightened in response. Acting on pure instinct, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight, wanting nothing more than to protect her, even if just for tonight.

Her small hands bunched the dark fabric of my shirt into tight fists, her face hidden against my chest. We kept swaying to the music, but the playful energy had vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating sadness. She wasn't laughing anymore. Instead, tiny, muffled sobs broke from her lips—a sound that inexplicably twisted my heart.

She didn't stop swaying, and she didn't stop crying. Every little hiccup felt like a punch to my gut. I didn't have the right words, so I just held her and let her cry.

Eventually, she stirred. She lifted her head, looking up at me with big, tear-drenched eyes that nearly made my composure crumble.

She bit down hard on her lower lip.

"Am I so boring that no one would truly want to marry me?"

It wasn't just drunken rambling. She asked it like her entire world hinged on my answer.

I shook my head slowly, leaning down until my mouth was just a breath away from hers.

"You're a lot of things, sweetheart, but boring isn't one of them. Any man would drop to his knees to have you."

Her eyes lit up.

"Really?" she squealed, a sudden burst of excitement cutting through her tears.

I nodded without thinking.

In a flash, she launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. She shoved me backward against the nearest wall and pressed her forehead flush against mine.

"Then give me your last name... or better yet, take mine. Do you want to be the lucky one?"

She was completely wasted and talking absolute nonsense, but damn if it didn't sound incredibly appealing.

A laugh tore from my throat, impossible to hold back. Could this girl be any more direct?

I reached up, gently wiping away her stray tears with my thumbs before cupping her face in my hands.

"If you like my last name so much..."

She beamed, and even with her mascara smudged and her eyes red from crying, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Don't back out now, darling. You just won a wife."

I was still reeling from how damn good the word "darling" sounded coming from her lips when something soft and warm crashed into my mouth, completely short-circuiting my brain.

It wasn't a sweet, gentle kiss. It was fierce and starving, like she wanted to devour me whole. Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping hard as she yanked me even closer.

To hell with it all.

I had just found my newest addiction, and I had absolutely no intention of ever letting her go.