My Assistant is a Witch… But I can’t let her go.

Chapter 6

The pounding in Xander's skull was the first thing he registered. It was a slow, insistent throb, as though someone were mercilessly hammering at his temples from the inside. He shifted under the sheets and blinked groggily, taking in the dim morning light seeping through sheer curtains.

This wasn't his room.

The room was dim, drenched in the gray light of early morning, and it took him a moment to process the unfamiliar surroundings. The ceiling was not his. The sheets were not his. The bed was too soft. The air smelled faintly of something floral—lavender maybe—but underneath it was something warmer, familiar. Her scent. The woman from the bar. Erin.

He bolted upright—or tried to. Pain lanced through his temples, and he groaned, clutching his head. He sat up too quickly, only to clutch his temples with a groan. His head throbbed mercilessly, every heartbeat like a sledgehammer against his skull. He cursed under his breath, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His jacket was tossed across a chair. His shirt was half-unbuttoned. And yet, strangely, he was alone.

He wasn't sure what disturbed him more: the fact that he had no memory of getting here, or that Erin—whoever the hell she really was—had vanished without a trace.

His phone buzzed violently beside him.

Cassian.

He slid a shaky hand to grab it and answered with a hoarse, "Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you?" Cassian's voice was sharp, frantic.

"I…" Xander winced. "I don't know. Someone's room."

"Check your damn notifications." He continued "Someone took a picture of you two sleeping. Your face is clear. Hers isn't. But she's lying on your chest and—Xander, the internet is losing its mind."

Xander's heart sank. He opened his notifications and immediately regretted it. Ping after ping. Mentions. Alerts. Headlines.

> Mystery Woman Spotted With Xander Volkov After Club Night.

> Heir to Volkov Empire Caught in Intimate Moment.

And the picture…

It showed him lying on his back, arm thrown carelessly around a curvy figure curled against his chest. Her face was hidden in the shadows, but her ash brunette hair, the shape of her shoulders, her posture—it was unmistakably her.

Erin.

He stared at the screen in silence, a strange, hollow feeling blooming in his chest.

Cassian's voice crackled again. "You need to leave before the press finds you. I've already cleared the side street. Your car's downstairs. Just don't go out the front."

Xander swallowed hard, forcing himself to move. He yanked on his shirt, shoved his phone into his pocket, and barely glanced back at the bed as he grabbed his keys from the table. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he felt the full weight of reality crashing back.

She drugged him.

She took him home.

She let the world see them together.

And then she disappeared.

He should've known.

The club. Her sharp tongue. That calculated playfulness. Every second of it had been leading to this. He felt like a fool—worse, he felt used.

As he descended the stairwell, a rush of cold air hit him. He pushed through the back door into the alleyway. His car was there, just as Cassian had said. No cameras yet. No reporters. Not yet.

He slid behind the wheel and started the engine, his hands trembling on the steering wheel.

The drive back was a blur. His head pounded, and his chest ached with something worse than a hangover.

It was betrayal.

He replayed the night in fragments. Her smirk. Her laugh. The way she moved in his arms on the dance floor. How real it all felt. How easy it had been to forget the world, forget the investigation, forget the walls he'd built around himself.

She'd shattered them effortlessly.

And now he didn't know whether he was angry at her… or himself.

As the city blurred past his windows, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes for a split second too long.

He hated this. Hated how vulnerable she'd made him feel. Hated how stupid he'd been to believe—even for one second—that it wasn't an act.

Because it had to be. Right?

Erin Lane wasn't just some pretty girl with a sharp tongue. She was hiding something. She had to be.

And he was going to find out exactly what it was.

Even if it killed him.