The morning after Switzerland tasted like maple syrup and sin.
Cassandra stretched beneath the plush comforter of the chalet's master bedroom, muscles deliciously sore, skin still tingling with the echo of last night. Julian was already up—shirtless in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the easy grace of a billionaire who somehow managed to look hot doing domestic things.
"I can't decide if this is heaven or a trap," she murmured, walking in with his shirt barely covering her thighs.
He turned. Smirked.
"Definitely a trap. I need to butter you up before you see your phone."
Her smile froze. "What happened?"
Julian hesitated. Then handed it to her.
Trending: #MarriageScam #CassandraBeaumontLies #JulianAshfordFabricated
She read the headlines like someone flipping through a crime scene:
> BREAKING: Sources suggest the Ashford-Beaumont merger was a 'romantic fraud'—engineered to manipulate investors.
> EXPOSED: Cassandra Beaumont allegedly seduced Julian Ashford with corporate gains in mind.
> LEAKED VIDEO: Ashford heir and Cassandra in intimate chalet moment—filmed without consent.
Cassandra went pale. "They recorded us."
Julian nodded grimly.
"From the woods. My security caught a figure outside the chalet, but not in time."
Her throat tightened. "Who would do this?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward her, pulling her gently into his arms.
"Someone who wants this merger—and us—to fall apart."
"But who?" she whispered.
Julian's eyes darkened.
"I have a guess. But we'll need to dance very carefully."
Later that day – Milan, Italy.
The Ashford-Beaumont Gala was supposed to be a celebration.
Now it was a battlefield.
Cassandra wore a velvet gown the color of murder. Her hair was up, her shoulders bare, her eyes lined with fire. Julian stood beside her, cool and lethal in all black. Cameras flashed. Journalists whispered.
But their smiles? Diamond-cut and bulletproof.
Inside the ballroom, tension hung like perfume. Billionaires and barons, CEOs and snakes—all circling, watching.
Then came her.
Miranda Vale.
Julian's former flame. Investor. PR queen. And the most dangerous woman in Europe.
She approached them like a cat with a fresh kill.
"Darling," she purred to Julian, kissing both cheeks. "Imagine my surprise when I opened the news this morning. Such… passion."
Cassandra's jaw clenched. Julian smiled thinly.
"Miranda."
"You know," Miranda said, swirling her champagne, "I always suspected you had a weakness for unpredictable women. But scandal? That's new."
Cassandra cut in. "Funny. I assumed your specialty was orchestrating them."
The room went quiet.
Miranda arched a brow. "Careful, sweetheart. You're just a seasonal flame. I built this empire's image for five years."
Cassandra stepped forward, her voice silk wrapped around steel. "And yet you're not the one he's going home with. Again."
Miranda's smile cracked.
"Cute," she said. "Let's see how long that lasts once the Board sees the full footage."
And then—she walked off, heels slicing through tension like razors.
Back at the penthouse…
They barely made it through the door before it exploded.
Julian threw his jacket. Cassandra kicked off her heels.
"I'm going to bury her," she seethed. "And not metaphorically."
Julian grabbed her waist, pulled her in. "Not tonight. Tonight you're mine."
She gasped as he lifted her onto the kitchen island.
"Julian—"
He silenced her with a kiss so hot, the marble counter might have cracked beneath them.
"I'm tired of playing defense," he growled against her neck. "Let's remind the world what a real partnership looks like."
Clothes? Gone.
Logic? Evaporated.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, nails clawing his back, lips meeting his with a hunger that devoured restraint. It wasn't just sex—it was strategy. Passion. Power reclaimed through moans and movement and skin against skin.
And when it was over, she lay against him, both breathless and triumphant.
"We're not breaking," she whispered.
"No," Julian said, eyes burning. "We're just getting started."
But across town…
Miranda slid a flash drive into a sleek laptop.
A video loaded—blurry but clear enough.
Cassandra. Julian. Together. Exposed.
She clicked send.
Subject: Security Risk – Immediate Review Required
She smiled.
Let the war begin.