Flash Marriage To The Wheelchair Tyrant

Casandra Turner gripped the metal dolphin keychain in her palm, the edges digging into her skin as her tight heels clicked down the empty hallway of the Manhattan Ritz-Carlton.

She had been brought back from a rural Oregon trailer park two years ago to serve as the Turner family's marriage bargaining chip, and tonight, her fiancé had vanished right before their rehearsal dinner.

At the end of the corridor, the heavy carved door of the presidential suite stood slightly ajar, leaking a sliver of dim wall light.

Casandra pushed the door open. A heavy wave of Tom Ford perfume hit her nose instantly. She knew that scent by heart-it belonged to her stepsister, Glenora Turner.

From the inner bedroom came broken, high-pitched gasps mixed with a man's heavy breathing, cutting through the quiet suite.

Casandra's chest tightened. She held her breath and stepped across the thick carpet toward the half-open bedroom door.

Peering through the gap, she saw two naked bodies tangled on the king-sized bed.

She had expected her blood to boil, yet her mind went dead calm. Not even her fingertips trembled.

The man on the bed was Jim Page, the heir she was scheduled to get engaged to tomorrow morning. Straddling his waist was a woman with cascading blonde curls.

A cold smirk touched Casandra's lips. She turned toward the suite's wet bar, lifted the large decorative copper basin, and poured in the dirty, icy water left over from the melted champagne buckets until it was full to the brim.

Carrying the heavy basin back to the bedroom, she raised her foot and kicked the door wide open.

The wood slammed against the wall. The couple on the bed froze, staring at her in sheer panic before scrambling for something to cover themselves. The duvet had been kicked onto the floor, and their scattered clothes couldn't cover both top and bottom at once.

Casandra stood at the threshold, her gaze freezing, and swung the copper basin forward without a word.

Foul, freezing water drenched them from head to toe.

Gasping and shivering like drowned rats pulled from a sewer, Glenora shrieked and burrowed into Jim's chest. Jim instinctively wrapped his arms around her, his face blank with shock.

After several seconds, Jim shoved Glenora aside and scrambled off the mattress.

"Casandra, listen to me, it's not what it looks like!"

Casandra ignored him. She dropped the empty copper basin onto the carpet, pulled out her phone, and held the camera lens steady on the red-blinking recording screen.

"This is prime material. Should I start a livestream? I bet it'll trend."

Seeing the red recording light, Glenora lunged off the bed toward her, her nails bared.

"Casandra, are you out of your mind?"

Casandra shoved her stepsister back onto the mattress with one hand, her voice flat.

"Isn't this the exact show you lured me up here to see?"

Jim grabbed his trousers from the floor, his voice shaking.

"Casandra, I swear, your sister seduced me! I had too much to drink tonight!"

Casandra swept a look of pure disgust over him.

"Birds of a feather."

She stopped the recording and slipped the phone into her trench coat pocket.

"Tomorrow's engagement party is off. You two can explain why to both families yourselves, or I'll send this video straight to the board members' group chat."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the suite.

Behind her, Glenora's face went pale at the thought of her parents finding out. She shoved Jim's bare shoulder frantically.

"Jim, go after her! Get that phone back!"

Snapping out of his daze, Jim yanked his shirt over his head and bolted into the hallway.

Casandra heard his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor. Not wanting to waste energy brawling with two shameless idiots, she ducked around the corner into the nearest restroom.

Knowing they would check the women's room first, she pushed open the door to the men's room and stepped into the handicap stall at the far end.

Before she could slide the metal latch shut, a tall, dark shadow lunged inside with terrifying speed.

Casandra's breath caught, her body tensing to strike-even if this was the men's room, she had claimed the stall first.

"Who the hell are you? Get out!" Casandra snapped, glaring at the intruder.

Before she could take a step back, a large, calloused hand clamped over her mouth, and the man shoved her hard against the back wall.

"Shh. Don't make a sound."

The stall barely had room for the toilet, let alone two adults. Pressed chest to chest, his warm breath brushed right against her cheek.

Casandra didn't thrash. Blinking slowly, she sized up the stranger through the dim overhead light. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the sharp shadows carving out a lethal jawline and cold, dark eyes. He was undeniably handsome, though after catching Jim in bed with her stepsister five minutes ago, she had zero appreciation for the male species.

Outside in the corridor, rapid footsteps approached, accompanied by a low male voice.

"You sure it's him?"

"Looked like him-vanished in a blink. I'll check the restroom."

Casandra frowned slightly. Those men weren't looking for her; they were hunting the guy pinning her against the tiles.

Before she could find any humor in their shared bad luck, the outer restroom door banged open, and Jim's heavy, panting footsteps echoed across the tiled floor.

A flash of murderous hostility crossed the stranger's dark eyes, and his arm locked around Casandra's waist, crushing her tight against his chest as his hand sealed her lips.