Chapter 250: How is Cixi managing an insufferable Don?

Sashkia’s mouth fell open. For a moment, she could only stare at him, wondering whether he had just made another joke or whether his understanding of acceptable behaviour had deteriorated considerably since acquiring a mate. He had moved from threatening to kidnap a forbidden woman to discussing it with Cixi as though he were asking permission to purchase a new car.

"You are unbelievable!" Sashkia exclaimed. "I am going to warn Cixi myself."

"Good." Cassian’s grin widened, displaying an unusually cheerful expression that was almost worth capturing on camera. "You will save me the trouble of explaining it to her."

Sashkia stared at him in disbelief, realising that she had somehow managed to turn her threat into a favour.

"How is Cixi managing an insufferable Don?" Sashkia spoke with a tired resignation, as if she no longer had the energy to pursue the topic.

"And there is something else," Cassian mentioned. "I need to know more about Cixi. Last time, you told me death was around her." Cassian held Sashkia’s gaze, his voice lowering as he demanded the answer he had been waiting for. "I want you to tell me exactly what you meant. Is Cixi’s life in danger?"

His concern for Cixi had grown considerably since their last discussion, particularly because Sashkia had mentioned death surrounding her without explaining what she meant.

He could deal with enemies he could identify, and he had never hesitated to eliminate a threat once he knew where it came from. But he could not protect Cixi against something he did not understand, and that uncertainty had begun to test his patience.

"Cixi is the reason I am here. I need to understand why I couldn’t detect anything about Cixi." Sashkia replied. "Where are we going? To the place where the captured assassin is kept, or to meet your marked one? How is she?"

A smile sparkled across Cassian’s face as Cixi’s face flashed across his mind. Her grey eyes and her sharp tongue. The way she folded her arms, tilted her chin, and fired words at him that landed like flower petals.

"She is breathtaking! And she knows how to make me look like a simp in front of others."

Sashkia laughed at once, wholeheartedly. "I thought you were already a simp," and her laugh echoed in the car.

Seeing Cassian turning serious, Sashkia couldn’t help but ask, "What is bothering you?"

Cassian did not answer at once. His jaw worked silently, the muscles flexing beneath the skin, his yellow-tinged eyes fixed on the headrest in front of him without seeing it. He was thinking. Turning something over in his mind the way a man turns a blade, examining every edge. Then he refocused on Sashkia. "She is hiding her past from me."

Sashkia raised her eyebrows. "What is stopping you from finding out about her past?"

It was a fair question.

Nothing is stopping me....

He had resources. He had connections. Cixi’s past was a locked door, and Cassian Crown owned every key ever forged. And yet. "I am a gentleman," Cassian stated. "How can I go against a woman’s wish when she does not want to share it with me..."

Sashkia coughed, dramatically. Then once more laughter broke through. She laughed the way a person laughs when they hear something so absurd, so detached from reality, that the body has no choice but to respond. "Since when," Sashkia managed between breaths, "do you listen to anyone?"

Cassian’s teeth pressed together. "Do not slander my reputation now, Sashkia. I always listen to those who are worth listening to."

Cassian’s car came to a halt in the parking area of the Casanova building, one of the properties he owned.

Sashkia followed him inside, and they made their way towards the room with the green door. Cassian remembered the last time Cixi had been there with her two friends.

She had slapped him and boldly declared herself his fiancée, telling a lie straight to his face with foolish audacity.

Cassian opened the door and allowed Sashkia to enter first. The metallic scent of blood immediately reached her nostrils, but she showed no discomfort as she stepped inside and examined the room.

Her gaze travelled over the furniture and the two men standing quietly near the walls before settling on the captive hung from the ceiling by chains fastened around both his wrists. His feet dangled above the floor, his body was covered in blood, and his head hung so low that she could barely distinguish his face beneath his dishevelled hair.

"Water," the man whispered when he heard them enter, his cracked lips barely moving as he struggled to lift his head.

Sashkia glanced toward the table, where a bottle of clear liquid stood beside an empty glass. She walked over, poured a generous amount into the glass, and approached the captive without asking Cassian for permission.

The man raised his head slightly as she brought the glass to his mouth; his desperate eyes followed it, and he didn’t even question why she was offering him a drink when the others weren’t, or whether this liquid was poisoned.

He pressed his lips against the rim and swallowed eagerly, only to scream the moment the liquid touched the cuts inside his mouth and burned its way down his throat. His body jerked violently, causing the chains above him to rattle as he struggled to turn his face away from the glass.

Sashkia watched him without the slightest change in her expression. She didn’t lack empathy, but she had lived long enough to know what kind of people became involved in such dirty business. Men who willingly participated in crimes against others could hardly expect their own hands to remain clean, and she was not inclined to mistake this man’s suffering for proof of his innocence.

"I asked for water!" the captive cried, coughing as he tried to recover from the burning sensation in his throat.

"My mistake. I thought it was water," Sashkia replied, looking at the clear liquid with an expression of mild surprise that was far too unconvincing to be genuine. She raised the glass to his lips again. "Drink."

The captive pulled his head away as much as the chains allowed. "You bitch... Once I get out of here, I will fucking kill you!"

Sashkia regarded him with an almost entertained expression, finding it remarkable that a man in his position still believed threats would improve his circumstances.

She brought the glass closer. "That filthy mouth of yours is precisely what I am trying to purify," she replied. "Alcohol is considered a disinfectant. And here I am, generously attempting to cleanse you of all the vile things you have allowed to accumulate inside that miserable body of yours... Now, Drink."

The captive wanted to curse her again, but the words refused to leave his mouth. Something in Sashkia’s command had taken hold of him, compelling his body to obey even as his mind fought desperately against it.