Mark opened the rear door, and Cassian entered the vehicle without breaking stride, with Cixi still locked in his arms.
He settled onto the seat with effortless grace and placed her firmly on his lap, one arm encircling her waist.
"I know how to sit in a car," she protested, pushing against his chest. "Let me—"
"A girl who throws herself off buildings does not earn the privilege of sitting near a door." His tone remained phlegmatic. "You will stay exactly where you are."
She stared at him, feeling utterly speechless. But sitting on a man's lap was unacceptable. "I am not as brave as you think I am! I don't think anyone would try twice in the same night..."
"Then you will not object to remaining on my lap."
She opened her mouth and then closed it. She opened again to retort, only to find her words and her mind were not synchronising well together. She felt broken and trapped emotionally inside.
How did things end up like this? Life was never on her side, and now it appeared death wasn't either.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth once more. "Where are you taking me? Are you planning to lock me in a dungeon? You said I am your prisoner. Will you chain me to a wall?"
Cixi was scared of Cassian's intentions; she didn't know what he intended to do with her. And she definitely didn't wish to be his prisoner, even if he offered her food and water or a place to stay…like a dungeon.
"That depends entirely on your behaviour."
Cixi frowned, shifting uncomfortably, and his fingers pressed into the curve of her waist with unmistakable ownership.
"You have no rights on me… My life, my choice, my freedom, and no one has the right to take away from me." She informed him, but he feigned ignorance.
Her mind circled back to the video. The fake video that had destroyed her life in seconds. Did he see it? Did he come because of it? Pain and shame coiled inside her chest, and she lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze, even though it was not her in the video, only her face.
"Could you at least let me sit properly? I assure you, I won't do anything stupid." She tried to speak in a civilised manner, hoping he would listen to her.
"I don't trust you, Cixi." He stolidly refused.
"Something we both agree on!" she rebutted, feeling vexed by his arrogant attitude.
She tried once more to twist away from him, her palms pressing against his chest, her knee shifting as though she could create enough space to slide off his lap.
"If you continue squirming like that," Cassian's voice dropped to a dangerously low, "I will assume you want my attention in a different way."
"And what way would that be?" She locked her eyes with his, fury overriding her sense.
His fingers pressed slightly into the curve of her waist, not painfully, but possessively and Cixi became more aware of his touch and her body.
"I am not a patient man," he drawled. "And I do not repeat warnings. I am thinking that you need a good spanking to remind you how to behave in front of me."
Her eyes widened in horror. Heat rose to her face, but not from embarrassment alone. Before she could fire back, Cassian's amusement vanished.
"Now listen carefully, Ms. Cixi McLore." He did not raise his voice, yet the air inside the car seemed to contract around his words. "Your family owes me a considerable sum. Since you are their only daughter, the responsibility has fallen to you."
Cixi's brows drew together as confusion flickered across her features before indignation flared. "My parents are dead—"
"The coin." He cut through her words as one might cut through paper. "The one you accepted. The one you kept with you for twenty-four hours." He held her gaze without mercy. "That coin represents a contract between you and me. And you held it past the window."
Cixi was dumbfounded.
"In accepting it, you acknowledged my claim on you. You are now officially registered under my protection in the underworld."
And she stared at him as though he had begun speaking in an entirely gibberish language.
"What world?" she demanded more explanation, though her voice wavered between disbelief and something close to frustration. "Can't we nullify it?"
He tilted his head slightly, almost amused. "It is too late to return the coin, Darling," he added as the endearment fell from his lips with provocation. "You are officially mine, Cixi, in the law of the underworld. They do not know your identity yet. You are safe... for now."
The word should have comforted her. Instead, it lodged in her chest like a stone. Cixi tried to construct his words into something reasonable, yet they did not make sense to her.
Underworld? Protection? Ownership? Registration? She couldn't remember asking for any of this from him.... And it all sounded absurd.
"Aren't you a billionaire?" She blurted out at last, blinking up at him. "The acting president of Crown Premium Luxury Hotel?"
"I am."
"Then why are you talking about — protection? Registration? Underworld?" he searched his face with genuine puzzlement.
His lips curved faintly as he watched her expression shift from one to another. "Did I forget to introduce myself properly?"
She nodded before she could stop herself. Oddly enough, she did not feel the terror she needed to have felt. Instead, curiosity burned brighter than fear. So bright that she momentarily forgot she was still seated on his lap, his thigh solid beneath her, his arm an iron band around her waist.
"Mark," Cassian did not look away from her when he called his right-hand man's name, memorising every shift in her expression.
Mark did not turn around, but his voice was clear from the front seat. "Mr Cassian Crown is not only a successful entrepreneur but also the owner of several casinos, international cruise gambling networks, and exclusive clubs where high-level negotiations take place. In the underworld, Mr. Crown is known by another title. They call him the Devil Crown."
Silence fell after Mark's introduction of Cassian Crown.
A thousand thoughts began colliding inside her head. He was… mafia? He was called Devil Crown? And she had given him the right to have a claim over her? Could her life be any more of a disaster than this? Cixi pondered. And when did her parents take money from him? Why? And if that coin had carried such a grave meaning, wasn't it his sole responsibility to explain to her the meaning behind the coin? How on earth was she supposed to know it had symbolised ownership instead of a lucky charm?
Her fingers curled unconsciously into the fabric of his shirt as the questions piled up, one after another, until they pressed against her ribs.
"My parents had been dead for three years," she stated with a steadier voice than she felt. "So, when had they taken your money?"
Her eyes searched his face intently, trying to catch even the slightest flicker of doubt or deception. If he had been lying, she had told herself, she would have seen it.
"Darling." The word fell from his lips like a coin dropped on marble. "They are very much alive."
Her breath stalled.
"The ones who died," he continued, "were your kidnappers."
"Kidnappers?" she repeated faintly. The word sounded foreign to her ears. That was impossible.
"They raised you. Fed you." His voice carried no tenderness, yet there was no cruelty in it either, only a man delivering facts. "And they planned to sell you to me the moment you turned seventeen."
And her world tilted.