CHAPTER 6: A NEW FIGHT

The door shut behind her with a quiet, definitive click, leaving me alone with her orders hanging in the air.

Gosh, this woman…

A shiver, cold and unwelcome, traced its way down my spine. She was terrifyingly effective, a master of manipulation, and I would need to be very, very careful around her.

I pressed my ear to the cool wood of the door, listening until the sharp click-clack of her heels faded entirely down the marble hallway.

My plan for a shower was now forgotten, as I tossed the towel to a chair. I pulled the lapels of my robe tighter, and opened my door.

And there it was, just directly across the hall. An imposing dark wood door with a sign hung right at eye level, the letters bold and aggressive: DO NOT DISTURB.

A soft, incredulous laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

You are the disturbance here, dude. You’re a walking, talking disruption.

I crossed the short distance, my heart hammering against my ribs. My hand rose, intending to just turn the handle and march in, just as he had done to me, earlier. But I stopped.

That was his move, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of claiming the moral low ground.

Instead, I knocked, a two firm, solid raps.

“Who the fuck is it?!” His voice was a snarl from the other side, muffled but dripping with fury.

I said nothing, and I just waited.

The door was wrenched open so violently it shook on its hinges.

Alexander stood there, his frame filling the doorway, one hand braced high against the frame, blocking entrance. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes blazing. “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm.

Instead of answering, he tried to shove the door closed in my face, but I was faster.

My foot shot out, blocking it with a solid thud, as I pushed forward, using my weight and momentum to force my way into his space, stepping into a room that was… chaos.

The room was a welcome change from the rest of the penthouse, feeling lived-in, masculine, and comfortably messy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, the anger radiating off him in waves, as he walked towards me.

And before I could react, his hands came up and shoved me, hard, against the wall by the door. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, as his palm was splayed flat against my chest, pinning me there.

My back connected with the wall with a dull thud, now

My breathing was ragged, and my instinct roaring to shove him back, to fight. But I didn’t, I forced my body to go limp against the wall, my arms hanging loosely at my sides. I just stared at him, my eyes meeting his furious dark blue ones, and I let him hold me there.

I know you want a fight, but I’m not going to give it to you.

The confusion and fresh anger that flashed across his face was its own reward.

He wanted resistance, but my surrender was infuriating him more than any punch could.

“Go on,” I dared him, my voice low and steady. “Hit me.”

Instead of swinging, he pulled his hand back from my chest as if my skin had burned him. He took a full step back, his chest heaving. “You don’t just barge into my room!”

“You barged into mine earlier,” I countered coolly, my eyes finally leaving his to take in the disarray of his space. Clothes were strewn over a chair, papers littered a desk. It was the room of someone brilliantly, messily alive.

“That’s because this is my house!” he all but shouted, the veins in his neck standing out. “I get to do what I want here!”

Oh, for god’s sake!, he sounded like a spoiled child, a ridiculously handsome, muscular, utterly infuriating child. I slowly straightened my robe where his shove had loosened it.

“You shouldn’t have pushed me like that earlier,” I said, my tone conversational, as if critiquing the weather. “What if I had lost my balance and fallen?”

A mean, sharp laugh burst from him. “Oh, I heard you’re straight as fuck. I’m sure you can handle a little bit of force from another man.” The taunt was meant to belittle, to provoke, me.

But two could play that game. My gaze returned to his, holding it without a flicker of emotion. “And I heard you love to get dick in your butt hole, Alex.”

The silence that crashed down was absolute, so complete I could hear the faint, frantic beating of my own heart.

His face went bone-white immediately, and his eyes, wide with pure shock for a fraction of a second, then narrowed into dangerous, glittering slits.

The air didn’t just crackle; it screamed.

“Wh… what?” he stammered, his voice dropping to a disbelieving, quivering whisper. It was the first time I’d heard anything less than absolute confidence from him.

“Did you just… what did you just say to me?”

“I said what I said,” I replied, my own pulse roaring in my ears.

I hadn’t meant to be that crude, that blunt, but the words were out now, hanging in the charged air between us.

I didn’t get to say more, as he moved with a feral speed, slamming me back against the wall with his full force, the new impact jolting my teeth.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarled, his face inches from mine, his eyes boiling with a rage I had only just begun to unlock.

His breath was hot against my cheek. “You don’t get to talk to me like that! You don’t get to say that!”

I still didn’t retaliate, at all.

I kept my hands at my sides, though every muscle in my body was screaming to defend itself. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” I forced out, the calm in my voice starting to fracture under the pressure of his grip. “It’s not as if I’m lying.”

That was the final trigger.

His hand, the one not pinning my shoulder, flew up and connected with my cheek in a stinging, open-palmed slap. My head snapped to the side from the force of it. The sound was shockingly loud in the room.

He just slapped me.

He didn’t stop, there. His hands fisted in the soft fabric of my robe collar, twisting it tight, the material straining.

I could feel the heat of his knuckles against my throat. He was shaking me, his voice a ragged, raging torrent of incoherent anger, the words lost to his fury. He was a storm, and I was at its center. The robe gaped open, and for a terrifying, exhilarating second, I thought he was actually going to strip me bare naked right there, to try and dominate me completely.

But just immediately, the door flew open.

“What is going on in here?”

The voice was low, thick with an eerie, commanding calm that froze us both instantly.

We turned in unison, and our gaze landed on Kane David. He stood in the doorway, his broad, muscular frame blocking the light from the hall, his intense eyes missing nothing.

He took in the scene: Alexander, wild-eyed and heaving, his hands still twisted in my collar; me, pinned against the wall, the red mark on my cheek already blooming.

Alexander’s grip went slack instantly, as he released me with a shove of disgust and turned his back to both of us, running a trembling hand through his hair.

“I asked,” David said, his voice dangerously quiet, “what is going on here?”

I swallowed, trying to find my voice, to control my breathing. “We were just… trying to have a meaningful conversation,” I offered, the words sounding weak and pathetic even to my own ears.

David’s gaze was like a physical weight. He didn’t even glance at his son. His eyes were fixed on the vivid imprint on my face. “A meaningful conversation… with his fingerprints on your cheek?”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted, my eyes darting back to Alexander’s rigid back. He was still trembling with suppressed rage.

“Alexander,” David’s voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade. “I am talking to you. And when I do that, you will give me your attention.”

But Alexander didn’t turn, Instead, he suddenly moved, a burst of frantic energy. He snatched his phone and keys from the desk, his movements jerky and furious.

“Go fuck yourselves, both of you!” he spat, the words dripping with venom, and he stormed past his father and out into the hallway without a backward glance.

“Alexander!” David’s command echoed after him, but it was useless, because he was already gone.

A slow, unbidden smile touched my lips.

I had done it.

I had shattered that cool, arrogant facade, and I had gotten under his skin, deep into the heart of whatever raw nerve pulsed there.

And instead of feeling guilty or scared, a strange, fierce thrill shot through me.

I was glad, I was happy.

I had well and truly pissed him off.