Lines Not to Be Crossed
Alexander paced the length of the suite, his hands clenched into fists. The air felt heavier now, thick with tension and disbelief. Elena—Elena—was lying in a hotel bed after being kidnapped and sedated. And somehow, someone had decided he should be the recipient of this grotesque delivery.
He'd called hotel security and a doctor. Every second he waited made his blood boil hotter.
He turned to check on her again. She hadn't moved much since he laid her down—until now.
A soft moan escaped her lips. Her head turned slightly on the pillow, and her fingers twitched.
"Elena?" he said quietly.
She stirred.
Then, slowly, she shifted her body, rolling onto her back. Her skin glistened with sweat under the dim lights, and her cheeks were flushed a deep red.
"Hot…" she whispered, her voice a barely audible murmur. "It's so hot…"
Alexander's brows furrowed. He stepped closer.
Elena whimpered softly and clawed at the neckline of her nightdress. The delicate fabric slipped from her shoulder, exposing smooth, pale skin.
"Elena, stop." He reached out gently, trying to pull the fabric back into place.
But she flinched at his touch, swatting his hand away with surprising strength.
"Too hot," she moaned, pulling the dress down farther.
"Elena." His voice grew firmer. "You're not well. Please, stop."
She didn't listen. In one smooth motion, she dragged the flimsy nightdress over her hips and off completely, letting it drop onto the floor beside the bed.
Alexander inhaled sharply and turned away.
This wasn't her. This wasn't consensual. She was disoriented, clearly under the influence of something powerful.
He reached for the blanket to cover her, but her hand shot out and grasped his wrist.
"Don't leave," she murmured. "Stay…"
"Elena," he whispered. "You're not yourself."
She tugged him toward her. Alexander tried to resist, but her grip was urgent—desperate, almost childlike.
And then she leaned up and kissed him.
Her lips were soft, warm, and trembling. The kiss was innocent at first, searching. But then she pressed harder, trying to deepen it, her fingers curling against his chest.
For one terrifying second, Alexander's body betrayed him. Her touch, her kiss—it felt good. Too good. His heart pounded. His hands hovered near her hips.
But then—reality.
He broke the kiss abruptly, stepping back with a sharp inhale.
"Elena—no." His voice cracked.
She reached for him again, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Please… just for a little while… don't go…"
Alexander's breath caught in his throat. Her voice—it sounded like pain. Like years of loneliness spilling out in one moment of vulnerability. But that only made his guilt worse.
He grabbed the discarded nightdress and turned away to give her modesty back. "You don't want this, Elena. Not like this."
She whimpered again, curling into the sheets as he draped the blanket over her.
He exhaled, slowly. Deeply.
And then, a knock at the door.
"Sir? Mr. Knight? Hotel security."
He froze for a moment. Then crossed the room quickly and opened the door only a crack. A uniformed guard and a suited medical staffer stood outside.
"I changed my mind," Alexander said curtly. "We don't need assistance. Please leave."
"But sir, you requested—"
"Now."
The guard's eyes narrowed but nodded. "As you wish."
The door shut with a soft click.
Alexander turned back toward the bed, running a hand through his hair.
Elena was drifting in and out of consciousness
"Too hot," she whispered again, this time with more urgency.
He narrowed his eyes, cursing under his breath. Whatever they gave her—it wasn't mild. She was burning up from the inside out.
Think.
Leaving her there wasn't an option. She could overheat. Her body was clearly reacting badly.
Alexander didn't waste another second.
He scooped her up in his arms. She barely flinched, eyes fluttering as her head dropped against his shoulder.
She murmured something incoherent, her arms weakly looping around his neck. "Please… stay... don't leave me alone again... please…"
Alexander's jaw clenched. He didn't respond. Instead, he carried her straight into the bathroom, flicked the light on with his elbow, and kicked the door shut behind him.
He set her down on the cool tiles beside the bathtub and turned on the tap, adjusting it until the water was cold—ice cold. He didn't care if it shocked her system a little. Better that than letting her fry from the inside.
She stirred again, weakly trying to rise. Her legs gave out and she collapsed back.
"Stop moving," he commanded, voice calm but hard.
Whether it was the tone or the drug, she obeyed, falling still.
He yanked open the cabinets, found a towel, and laid it on the floor near the tub. Then he returned to her, peeling the damp nightdress from her flushed skin with clinical precision. He didn't linger. He didn't stare. He didn't let himself feel anything. This wasn't about desire.
This was survival.
When the tub was filled halfway, he turned off the faucet and gently lowered her into the water. She shivered on contact, arching slightly as the cold water shocked her senses.
Alexander held her steady, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other keeping her shoulder above water.
Her lips trembled. "So cold…"
"You'll thank me later," he muttered.
---
Two hours passed before she stirred again.
This time, when her eyes blinked open, they were clearer—still fogged, but not wild.
She winced. "My head…"
The scent of clean linen and unfamiliar cologne fills her nose. She blinks, disoriented, and sits up — then freezes.
Alexander Knight is standing by the window, arms crossed, eyes on her.
Her breath catches. "You… What the hell am I doing here?"
He doesn't flinch. "You were drugged. I found you in my hotel room."
She pulls the blanket closer to her chest, eyes wide. "Did you…? What did you do to me?"
His jaw tightens. "Nothing. You were barely conscious. I pulled you out of a bad situation."
She shakes her head, trembling. "I remember… my uncle, thugs, my father… What is this? Some kind of setup?"
He steps forward. "You think I arranged for you to be trafficked?"
Her eyes burn. "I wouldn't put it past you."