Mein Engel

What!” Cassandra's breath caught, her eyes darting towards Dante Krüger where he stood, towering, with his wife, Selina,  and his daughter, Melissa, each by his side.

“Don't be nervous,” Viktor assured, his voice light. “It's tradition. And he's….surprisingly good at dancing”

Tradition. That single word made her pulse quicken. In the next second, she was standing before the 6’2 feet tall man, her petite frame hidden under his commanding presence. She looked up at him. His expression softened into a calm smile that unsettled her even more. He extended his hand.

“Mein Engel.”

Cassandra watched with bated breath as his lips brushed her knuckles in a gesture far too intimate, sending heat racing up her arm.

“Shall we?”

Before she could gather herself, he was leading her onto the dance floor. The lights dimmed, the music slowed, and suddenly it was just the two of them.

She was nervous, her heart pounding hard against her chest. Her body struggled to follow his effortless rhythm, her nerves betraying her with each step. His movements were unshakable, guiding her as though she belonged nowhere else but in his arms.

“You're….you're a really good dancer, Mr. Krüger,” She murmured, desperate to break the silence. Her mind was still fixated on why he had left the ceremony abruptly.

Dante's eyes, sharp and unreadable, never left her. “You're not so bad yourself.” his response was direct and deliberately neutral.

Her lips parted hesitantly, “Are you… unhappy about my marriage to Viktor?”

His brow lifted slightly, and for a heartbeat she feared she had overstepped.

“I mean,” she corrected quickly, “if I’ve offended you in any way—”

“On the contrary.” His arm tightened, drawing her closer until she could feel his warmth. His words slid over her skin like a dangerous caress. “Having you here in my arms soothes me, Mein Engel.”

Cassandra blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. Twice now, that phrase. Mein Engel. She didn’t know what it meant, but the sound of it on his lips made her knees weaken.

Amidst her relief was something sharper, something she could not name. At least he didn’t hate her. Yet her heart still raced, her body still burned under his gaze.

‘The Don of Nordau Bloc’ said Cassandra inwardly, her eyes roaming his face. Seeing him up close, she realized that he truly was the older version of Viktor, just as formidable and undoubtedly good looking, with a rugged charm exuding confidence and authority.

Dante was obviously older, with a few silver flecks on his beard and at the tips of his thick dark hair. He was in his mid fourties or even more. Regardless, nothing about him looked worn. If anything, he carried a youthful charisma despite being slightly rough around the edges. That made him undeniably attractive. And that stuck to Cassandra.

Then, too soon, the music stopped.

The spell broke. She stepped away, her body tingling, her mind reeling.

–––

Hours later, Cassandra was seated on her matrimonial bed, dressed in a translucent peach themed nightgown. She sighed into the cold night.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Viktor emerged, his presence a warm contrast in the cool air. He was bare chested, dressed only in a pair of lounge pants.

“Who would've thought a wedding ceremony could be so exhausting?” he chuckled, stretching.

“Thankfully,” he continued, flexing his arm muscles, “I've still got vigor, stamina, and a little surprise for you” He paused “Actually, a big surprise”

Cassandra forced a small smile, looking away. Heat prickled her skin, but it wasn’t desire—it was unease. She knew what he expected tonight. And though she had lain with men before, tonight was different. Viktor wanted passion. Love. Things she couldn’t give. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“I…” She bit her lip, feigning shyness.

Viktor crouched before her. He reached for her face. “I get it,” he cupped her face, making her look at him. “You're not ready.” he kissed her forehead. His eyes were soft and understanding, but still, a hint of disappointment lingered in them.

Viktor exhaled “It's fine, I'll wait for you. No matter how long it takes”

His words brought a smile to her lips. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his bare chest. “Thank you” she muttered, but her relief was short lived, torn apart by his next words.

“Just don't take too long, my love. My patience has its limits.”

In the dead of night, Cassandra got up, an itchy sensation in her throat causing her discomfort. She threw off the covers, sitting up. Her needy eyes searched the bedside table for a glass of water but found none.

With a sigh, she got up and exited the room.

She wasn't familiar with the interior of the Krüger Mansion, but she knew the way to the kitchen, so she set off, navigating her way through the darkness. Getting to the stairs, she paused, a shiver running down her spine.

She looked around the dimly lit hallway, her gaze drifting to the far end of it where a door stood ajar with a faint, eerie light flickering onto the corridor.

Her brows furrowed.

For a moment, she thought to explore what was behind that door, but a sense of caution stopped her. Nevertheless, she found herself drawn to what was there.

Cassandra glanced around nervously and then began to creep towards the faint light, her footsteps subtle on the porcelain floor. Her heart dropped at the sound of soft moans escaping the inauspicious room.

The stifled moans belonged to a man, and the thought of the absence of a woman's voice fueled Cassandra's curiosity. She closed in and peeked through.

Her eyes flew wide, her heart sinking at what she beheld. What she saw made her blood run cold.