Chapter 5

Cassie POV

After dropping a third bottle of shooters, Boss came down from the office and told me to go home, claiming that the club wasn't busy enough for four bartenders on shift.

I knew he was probably just scared that I was going to drop another bottle - there would be no salary left to dock for the damages if I continued.

Not bothering to change back into my jeans and t-shirt, I left through the staff exit and walked steadily toward my bike, noticing the few clubbers still loitering in the car park, smoking fuck knows what.

I climbed on my bike cautiously, my miniskirt luckily just long enough not to ride up. My leather jacket also helped keep my modesty, although I did question if I should go back and change. But Vasilios could be in the club, and that thought alone dissuaded me.

I put my helmet on, my eyes scanning the car park for any signs of Vasilios or Enzo, but there was none. My bike roared to life, chasing away the anxiety which clawed at my throat. It was one of the reasons I had learned to ride a motorbike - the feeling of freedom which it gave me was unparalleled.

Taking my usual back routes, I drove down a dark alley only to find my route blocked by a dumpster which had been moved. Swearing that I was being forced to go the longer route, I turned my bike around only to see a car parked at the entrance of the alley.

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath, a feeling of dread coming over me.

I glanced back over my shoulder, making sure that there was no other way around the dumpster - but no. It had been moved on purpose, intentionally blocking my way. Apart from abandoning my bike and making a run for it, I didn’t have much choice.

The driver’s door opened and in the darkness I could make out the unmistakable features of Luca’s younger brother, Enzo.

“Good to see you again, Cassie,” he called out into the darkness with a smirk on his face which made my hand itch to slap him.

“Enzo,” I replied, pulling off my helmet.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, silence stretching between us.

“You've changed these last few years,” he chuckled and shook his head. “I wasn't sure it was you when I first saw you in that club.”

I sighed, unable to hide my exasperation. “Yes, I've changed. Now why don't you let me go back to living my own life and you can run back to Vasilios and tell him there was a mistake.”

He laughed and ran his hand through his slicked back brunette hair. “Oh, Cassie. You're more delusional than I thought if you believe Vasilios doesn't already know you were the woman he saw the other night. You forget, the mate bond calls out to him.”

Bloody werewolves and their mate bonds.

“He wanted to throw you over his shoulder right then and there, but Luca convinced him not to. Apparently, my darling sister in law has made the old man go soft,” he continued. “Now get in the car. We have a meeting to go to.

I'm pretty sure that if I had a wolf, she would be growling by now.

“No. I'm not leaving my bike here in the middle of the city to be stolen by some drugged up teenager,” I snapped, gripping the handlebars of my bike harder.

Enzo looked at another man who seemed to emerge from the shadows, nodding as the man moved toward me. I felt myself withdraw, the need to fight becoming more and more overpowering.

“Relax, Cassie. He's just going to drive your bike behind us until we get to the hotel. As much as I'd prefer to leave that death-on-wheels behind, I know I'd never hear the end of it,” Enzo smiled, his eyes lighting up slightly.

The other man stepped closer, cautious of me as if I - a mere hybrid - would be able to snap his neck like a twig. I found myself wondering what I could use as a weapon. My helmet might have worked, but I rather liked the helmet. Usually alley ways had some sort of abandoned refuse which could be used as a weapon, a rusty pipe or a broken broomstick at the very least. This alley was completely empty, further leading me to believe that the whole encounter had been planned.

“Come on, Cassie. Vasilios just wants to talk to you,” Enzo implored. “The moment it gets too much, I'll get you out of there. Eliana would kill me if I didn't look after you.”

I sighed and handed my helmet to the waiting man, leaving him to climb onto my bike while I glared at him.

“You damage my baby and I'll make sure the only food you're able to eat is through a straw,” I threatened, not sure if this was one of Enzo's men or one of Vasilios's.

He swallowed hard before he put the helmet on, so I guess my threat worked.

Enzo smiled encouragingly at me as he opened the passenger door for me. I bit my tongue to stop a comment about him turning into Vasilios's lap dog from escaping my mouth, and didn't let it slip from between my teeth until the door was closed.

We drove past my place and I resisted the urge to fling open the car door and jump out, although barely. Instead, I gripped my hands together, letting my nails bite semi circles into my palms as we drove to the outskirts of the city.

“The Mandarin Oriental?” I asked as we parked outside the five star hotel and a doorman rushed to open the car door for me.

“Yes, Vasilios always stays here when he is in New York,” Enzo revealed rather nonchalantly, as if the thousand dollar a night rooms were just chump change.

I followed Enzo into the fabulous building, remaining a few steps behind and too scared to touch anything, just in case it broke.

I stopped briefly to admire a painting in the foyer when a woman in a button down shirt and red knee length skirt grabbed my wrist.

“I don't know how you got in here, but you need to go,” she spat out through clenched teeth as she started yanking me toward the door.

“I'm here to meet someone,” I told her, hoping Enzo would come to rescue me although he probably didn't even know I wasn't a few steps behind him any longer.

“Prostitutes aren't allowed in this establishment,” the woman said haughtily, her fingernails digging into my wrist. “Now you'd better get out before I call the police and get you arrested.”

I tried to stop, but the woman was freakishly strong and motioned for a security officer to help her chuck me out of the hotel.

I wasn't badly dressed. Sure, slightly casual, but I certainly didn't feel like I dressed like a prostitute! Maybe it was the miniskirt, but it wasn't too much shorter than her own.

I was about to start shouting that I wasn't a prostitute, when I heard him, his smooth voice demanding respect.

“I suggest you get your hands off of my wife.”