NOAH
We stood by the window, far enough from the early arrivals to have a semblance of privacy. Alex leaned against the glass, studying with a discerning gaze that made my skin prickle.
"How are you holding up, Noah? You look... tired. And a little too perfect, if that makes sense."
"I’m fine," I said, staring into the dark swirl of my coffee. "Just a lot on my mind. Business is stressful."
"Is it Cassian?"
I didn’t deny it. I just looked out at the horizon, watching a white boat cut a path through the blue.
"You know my offer still stands," Alex said softly. He stepped half an inch closer, his presence warm and inviting. "You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those shoulders, and I’d be happy to take so of it off."
I swallowed hard, the bitterness of the coffee matching the lump in my throat. "It’s not that simple, Alex."
"Why not? He’s a boss, Noah. Not a king."
I paused. Should I tell him? Can I trust a rival to be my confidant? But then I rembered Cassian calling "property," and my resolve hardened. "There’s... an agreent. Between and Cassian."
Alex raised an eyebrow, his expression sharpening. "What kind of agreent?"
"The kind that makes it difficult to just... walk away. There are debts. Terms."
"Are you saying he has leverage over you?" Alex’s voice was low, his jaw tightening.
I didn’t answer directly. I just looked away, letting the silence confirm his suspicion. "Sothing like that. It’s complicated."
"Then let help you uncomplicate it," Alex said. He reached out, placing a firm, steady hand on my shoulder. The contact felt grounded, a sharp contrast to the volatile electricity of Cassian’s touch.
"You don’t have to tell everything right now. But if you need a way out, legal, financial, or physical, I can make it happen. I have resources he can’t touch."
I t his eyes. He seed entirely genuine. There was no mockery there, no "distraction" talk. "Maybe... we can talk about it more privately. Later."
Alex smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That’s all I’m asking." He leaned in then, telling a quick, cute joke about a mishap he’d had with a Spanish translation earlier that morning.
It was genuinely funny, a bit of levity in a room filled with sharks, and I found myself laughing, not a forced laugh, but a real one.
And that was exactly when the door opened.
Cassian walked in like a shadow eclipsing the sun. He didn’t just enter a room; he annexed it. His eyes swept the space with predatory efficiency, landing instantly on the window.
He saw us. He saw the hand on my shoulder. He saw laughing.
I felt the temperature in the room drop twenty degrees. Alex made a final flirty comnt, and I felt myself step back slightly, my professional mask snapping back into place, but the damage was done.
Cassian froze for a fraction of a second, his expression going completely blank. It was a terrifying kind of blankness, the kind that usually preceded a massacre. He didn’t acknowledge the investors. He didn’t acknowledge the view. He marched directly toward us.
"Hendrix," Cassian said, his voice a cold, asured blade.
"Wolfe," Alex replied, entirely unbothered. He didn’t remove his hand from my shoulder until the very last second. "Good to see you. You look like you’re recovering well."
"I wasn’t aware you’d forgotten the terms of our agreent," Cassian said, ignoring the pleasantry.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Agreent? We’re partners on this acquisition, Cassian. I think we have several."
"The bet," Cassian hissed, his jaw so tight I thought his teeth might crack. "You lost. Which ans you stay away from Noah."
Alex smiled slightly, glancing at with a playful spark. "I’m not the one who initiated this conversation, Cassian. Noah approached to discuss the morning’s agenda."
Cassian turned his gaze to . It was a look of pure, unadulterated fury. Are you fucking serious? it scread.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t apologize. I t his gaze with the sa empty, professional stare I’d practiced in the mirror.
"Noah. A word," Cassian commanded, his voice tight.
"We’re about to start the eting," I said, checking my watch. "The lead investors are already sitting down."
"Now."
I looked at him for a long, quiet mont, feeling the eyes of the entire room on us. Then, calmly, I asked: "Is there sothing work-related you need to discuss, Mr. Wolfe?"
Cassian stared at , his chest rising and falling in shallow, angry breaths.
"If not," I continued, "I should finish setting up the presentation materials. I’d hate for a technical glitch to reflect poorly on our professionalism."
I saw the mont it clicked for him. I had just flipped the script. By staying "professional," I had made his outburst look like an emotional tantrum. In a room full of high-level investors, he was the one looking unstable. He was the one letting personal feelings interfere with the "distraction."
"Understood," Cassian said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Good. If you’ll excuse ."
I turned and walked away, my heart doing a frantic tap-dance against my ribs. Oh my god. Oh my god, I just did that. He is going to absolutely destroy later.
But as I walked to the front of the room and began clicking through the slides, a surge of adrenaline washed over . It felt good. Seeing that mask of his crack, seeing him lose control in front of the one person he hated most, was the most satisfying thing I’d felt in weeks.
The eting began.
Cassian took his seat at the head of the table, radiating a heat so intense I was surprised the leather didn’t smoke. I sat to his right, as was my place. Alex sat directly across from us, his gaze occasionally drifting to with a supportive wink.
The tension in the room was palpable. It was a physical weight, pressing down on the mahogany table. I could feel Cassian’s gaze on the side of my face, heavy, burning, like a brand.
But I didn’t look. I kept my eyes on my notes, my voice steady as I presented the logistical data for the acquisition. I was flawless. I answered every question with precision. I was the perfect assistant.
But I played a ga with the tone of my voice.
Every ti Alex asked a question, I responded warmly, leaning in slightly, offering him a polite smile. Every ti Cassian spoke, my voice went clipped and hollow. I gave him the bare minimum, my tone empty of the fire he usually loved to provoke.
I noticed his fingers drum once on the table, a tiny, barely perceptible sign of his fraying patience. He was pissed. He was losing his mind because he couldn’t find a way to reach through the wall of professionalism I’d built.
Nothing special? I thought, glancing at the presentation screen. Then you shouldn’t mind that I’m just doing my job.
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