A choked, guttural sound escaped Margaret's lips.
She fought for a single breath.
Her face began to darken to an alarming shade of crimson.
Alexander's eyes were pure, unadulterated fire.
The intent to kill was a palpable force around him.
"Where is Evelyn?" His voice was arctic, each word dripping with a threat that froze her blood.
"Speak now, or you will not leave this room alive."
Terror, absolute and consuming, flooded Margaret's vision.
Seeing the raw, unrestrained fury on his face, she finally comprehended.
He was not bluffing.
He would end her life without a moment's hesitation.
Panic seized her.
She thrashed against the iron grip on her throat.
"I'll talk!" she gasped, the words tearing from her. "I'll tell you!"
The pressure on her neck eased infinitesimally.
"She's... upstairs... in private lounge 3093..."
The instant the location was out, Alexander released her.
He was gone, moving like a storm, his men following in his wake.
Margaret collapsed to the cold floor.
Her hands flew to her bruised neck.
Tears of pain and sheer fright traced paths through her makeup.
Alexander Blackwood was a devil.
A monster wearing a handsome mask.
She watched the space where he had vanished.
The oppressive, chilling weight of his rage still hung heavily in the air.
Alexander and his security team reached the lounge door.
It splintered open under a powerful kick.
"Evelyn!"
They burst into the room.
An immediate, cloyingly sweet fragrance assaulted their senses.
Alexander's face hardened into a mask of grim understanding.
The scent was laced with something potent.
An aphrodisiac.
Now he knew.
Now he understood Margaret's cryptic taunts.
Evelyn had been drugged.
This was a trap.
A cold fist of dread clenched around his heart.
He pushed further into the room.
His eyes scanned the space.
And then he saw it.
He stopped dead.
A large, dark stain marred the floor near the sofa.
Blood.
So much blood.
His own heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, terrified drum.
"Evelyn!"
His cry was raw, desperate.
His gaze swept the room wildly.
The fear was a physical pain in his chest.
A faint, almost imperceptible sound came from one side.
Alexander spun toward the source.
The bathroom.
He rushed forward.
There, curled into the farthest corner, was Evelyn.
"Evelyn." The air left his lungs.
His heart constricted violently at the sight.
He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside her.
His eyes devoured the heartbreaking scene.
Blood saturated her clothing.
Worse, fresh, vivid red still dripped from her hand.
A knife was clutched in her white-knuckled grip.
The coppery smell of blood filled the small space, sending a wave of pure horror through him.
His hand trembled as he reached out, gently placing it on her shoulder.
The moment he touched her, Evelyn jerked violently away.
"Don't touch me! Get away!" Her voice was shredded, raw with terror.
Her entire body flinched, a trapped animal reacting on instinct.
A thousand sharp needles seemed to pierce Alexander's throat.
He drew a sharp, steadying breath.
"Evelyn," he said, his voice low, forcing it to be calm. "It's me. Alexander. I'm here."
At the sound of his voice, the frantic struggling ceased.
She went completely still.
Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes, red-rimmed and swimming with tears, found his.
"Alexander?" she whispered, her gaze dazed, disbelieving.
Then, recognition dawned.
The knife clattered to the tile floor.
She threw herself into his arms, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.
Marrying A Secret Zillionaire: Happy Ever After