CASSIAN
I sat at the head of the conference table, the mahogany surface reflecting the clinical glow of the overhead lights. On paper, I was the victor of the morning. The Durant acquisition was sliding into place like a well-oiled machine, and the investors were practically salivating at the projected margins.
But I wasn’t looking at the charts. I was watching Noah.
He sat to my right, a silent, blue-suited specter of efficiency. Usually, I could feel him... his heartbeat, his irritation, the way he shifted when I stood too close. Today, he felt like a void. Every ti I addressed him, his responses were clipped and frigid, delivered with a professional hollow that grated on my nerves.
"The revised logistical map, Noah," I said.
"Page four of your briefing packet, Mr. Wolfe," he replied, not even looking up from his tablet.
But then Alex Hendrix spoke.
"I think the port logistics need a second look, Noah. What’s your take on the diterranean congestion?"
Noah turned. He actually turned his entire body toward Alex. "I agree, Alex. I’ve already drafted a contingency for the Valencia terminal. I can walk you through it after the session."
A smile. A soft, genuine, present smile directed at the one man I had explicitly told him to avoid.
He’s doing this on purpose. Every tilt of his head toward Hendrix, every warm inflection in his voice... it’s a calculated strike. He’s using that smug bastard to get under my skin because he knows Alex is the one person I can’t simply order out of the room.
The irritation was a low, steady thrum in my blood. Normally, I wouldn’t give a damn. I didn’t ask for this life... the CEO title, the suits, the endless posturing for my father’s approval. It was all a hollow performance. So why did it matter if a junior assistant was being petty? Why did the sight of Alex’s hand lingering near Noah’s arm make want to put a fist through the floor-to-ceiling glass?
I forced my expression into a mask of nonchalance. I reverted to my natural state: the cold, unbothered strategist. I focused on the spreadsheets. I contributed when necessary. I pretended the air in the room didn’t feel like it was ionizing every ti Noah laughed at one of Hendrix’s subtitled jokes.
It’s just a ga, I told myself. He’s a distraction. Rember?
But the "distraction" was currently winning.
...
"Before we all scatter," Alex said as the eting wrapped up, standing and buttoning his jacket with an effortless flourish, "I thought we could grab lunch together. Celebrate the progress we’ve made. There’s a Michelin-starred terrace just a block away. My treat."
The investors, always eager to feast on soone else’s di, chid in imdiately. "Excellent idea, Hendrix." "Count in."
Alex’s gaze slid toward Noah. "Noah, you’ll join us, won’t you?"
Noah didn’t even blink. He didn’t look at for permission. He didn’t hesitate. "Of course. I’d love to."
Then, Alex turned to , his smile the picture of polite, boardroom-friendly condescension. "Cassian, you’re welco to join as well. If you aren’t too busy with... paperwork."
Of course you are, you smug prick. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was creating a scenario where I had to either play third wheel to his flirting or stay behind and look like a brooding loser.
"I’ll be there," I said, my voice like dry ice.
As the investors began to filter out, I moved. I stepped into Noah’s path as he gathered his tablet and stylus, cutting off his exit.
"Noah. A mont," I said, my voice low enough to stay between us.
Noah didn’t look up. He was ticulously organizing his digital files. "I need to send these notes to the team before lunch. Accuracy is paramount, as you always say."
"It can wait."
"Noah, ready to go?" Alex appeared at my shoulder, perfectly tid as always. "We should head out before the lunch rush hits the terrace."
Noah finally looked up, but his eyes bypassed entirely, landing on Alex. "Yes, let’s go. I’m actually starving."
My jaw tightened so hard it ached. He was really going to do this. He was going to walk out of this room with Hendrix while I stood there like a piece of furniture.
"Noah," I said, my voice firm, projecting the authority I knew he hated. "I need you to review the contract revisions for the logistics clause before the next eting. Imdiately."
The subtext was a scream: You work for . Not him. You are mine to command.
Noah finally looked at . His green eyes were blank, stripped of the fire that usually made him so "entertaining." "I can do that after lunch, Mr. Wolfe. I believe we have a two-hour window before the gala preparations begin."
"I need it done now," I countered.
A few investors lingered near the door, glancing back. They sensed the tension... the sharp, jagged electricity between the three of us... but they couldn’t na the source.
Noah paused. He looked at Alex, then back at . "Understood," he said quietly.
"I’m sure it won’t take long," Alex added, leaning against the doorfra. "We’ll wait for you in the lobby, Noah. Don’t let the ’boss’ keep you too long."
I looked at Alex. My eyes promised him a slow, professional demise, but I said nothing. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an outburst. I just turned and walked toward a smaller, private conference room down the hall.
"Noah. Now."
I opened the door to the secondary room... a small, windowless space ant for high-stakes depositions. It was private. It was soundproof. I waited for Noah to enter, then I closed the door and turned the lock with a definitive click.
The silence was heavy, charged with the weight of everything unsaid.
I didn’t waste ti. I didn’t want to play the corporate ga anymore. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
Noah set his tablet on the table with a soft thud and turned to face . He looked perfectly composed, his suit unwrinkled, his expression a mask of neutral indifference. "I’m not sure what you an."
I stepped closer, invading his personal space until I could sll that irritatingly fresh soap of his. "Don’t play dumb with , Noah. Not today."
"I was reviewing the presentation notes," he said, his voice level. "Is there sothing specific you needed for the contract? Or did you just want to exercise your right to interrupt my lunch?"
"I’m not talking about the fucking notes," I growled.
"Then what are you talking about?" He tilted his head slightly, mocking with his calmness.
"Alex. You and Alex. The smiles. The shoulder-touching. The ’we’ll talk privately’ bullshit."
"He’s our business partner," Noah said, as if explaining a simple concept to a child. "I have to work with him. Building rapport is part of the job description you gave ."
"You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’re baiting ."
"I’m afraid I don’t follow," Noah replied. He paused, a small, subtle shadow of a smile playing on his lips... not a kind smile, but a cold one. "Perhaps you’re being overly emotional about a professional relationship, Cassian. It’s a bit... unprofessional."
I felt the hit. Unprofessional. Emotional. He was throwing my own words back in my face, using the very clinical detachnt I used to control him.
I paused. I took a breath. Then, I let out a low, dark chuckle. It wasn’t a j sound. It was the sound of a predator realizing the prey had finally sharpened its teeth.
Noah stiffened slightly at the sound.
I walked over to the desk and leaned against it, folding my arms over my chest. I let a smirk crawl across my face, tilting my head as I studied him. "Seems like you’ve finally grown a backbone."
Noah’s face flickered... just for a second. The mask slipped, showing the raw, jagged anger underneath.
"I was wondering when you’d stop being a coward and actually fight back," I continued, my voice silky and cruel. "I was starting to get bored of the doormat routine. But look at you now. Trying to play hardball. Using Hendrix like a shield because you’re too afraid to face without soone else’s hand on your shoulder."
Noah’s jaw tightened. His eyes flashed with a sudden, violent heat... the heat I’d been looking for all morning. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the cool professional vanishing in a heartbeat.
I caught it. I saw the way his fingers twitched, the way his breath hitched.
Gotcha.
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