Chapter 4
1465 Words
I couldn’t sleep.
Even after I’d slipped out of Cassian’s suite, closed my own bedroom door, and curled under the linen sheets, sleep remained a stranger. My body was still humming from his touch, my lips swollen from his kiss. And worse—my thoughts kept going back to the way he’d stopped when I asked him to. No questions. No pressure. Just… stillness.
That scared me more than anything.
Cassian Wolfe had a reputation. Ruthless. Cold. Emotionless.
But tonight, he’d been something else entirely.
Tender.
I hated that I noticed.
⸻
Morning came like a punch of light. I dragged myself into the ensuite, scrubbing my face like it could erase last night. It didn’t. Nothing could. Not even the scalding water or the endless steam.
Downstairs, the villa buzzed with quiet movement. Staff darted around like ghosts. Cassian was nowhere in sight, but a note sat beside a breakfast tray:
“You don’t have to run. – C.”
I nearly threw it into the orange juice.
⸻
By noon, I had thrown myself into distraction. I scheduled calls with the marketing team, reviewed the fake wedding itinerary for the next month, and even sat through a painfully awkward lunch with Cassian’s mother. She gave me that same sharp-eyed stare the whole time, like I was a broken piece of glass under a microscope.
“How are you adjusting?” she asked with a tight smile.
I returned it. “As well as anyone can when they’ve agreed to marry a man who kisses like he wants you one minute and acts like nothing happened the next.”
She blinked. Just once. “Cassian has always been… difficult to read.”
“Then I’m doing great.”
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. “Just don’t fall for him, dear.”
I raised a brow. “Is that a warning or a wish?”
“Whichever one you’ll listen to.”
⸻
Cassian finally returned late in the afternoon, fresh from a board meeting and still looking like the cover of some absurd billionaire magazine. Tailored suit, loosened tie, hair slightly mussed like he’d been dragging his hand through it.
I hated how good he looked when he was stressed.
“Monroe,” he said, nodding toward me as he walked into the sunroom where I’d set up temporary camp.
“Wolfe,” I returned, without looking up from my laptop.
“I trust your morning went well?”
“Your mother advised me not to fall for you.”
He paused. “Smart woman.”
“I thought so too.”
Silence.
Then he stepped closer. “And did you listen?”
I finally looked up. “If I had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Something flickered across his face—just a momentary crack in that perfect mask. Regret? Longing? I couldn’t tell. And I didn’t ask.
⸻
Later that evening, a dinner was held at the estate. Small, private. Just close family and Cassian’s inner circle. He said I didn’t need to attend.
So, naturally, I showed up.
I wore a black satin dress, the kind that clung to my curves and made people stare. Cassian’s jaw tightened when he saw me walk in, but he said nothing. Just pulled out the chair beside him.
Halfway through the meal, his hand found my thigh under the table.
He didn’t look at me. Just let his fingers rest there—firm, possessive, electric.
I didn’t pull away.
Because I wanted him to feel it too. The tension. The confusion. The fire between us that neither of us wanted to name.
⸻
When the others had filtered out and only the two of us remained at the table, I finally spoke.
“Do you always touch people like that in public?”
Cassian sipped his wine. “Only when I want them to know they’re mine.”
“And am I?”
He leaned in slowly. “Are you asking as my wife, or as the woman who ran away from my bed last night?”
The words hit deeper than I expected.
“I didn’t run.”
“You hesitated.”
“I had every right to.”
He nodded. “You did.”
Another silence. But this one wasn’t sharp—it was heavy with things neither of us knew how to say.
“I wasn’t expecting you to stop,” I admitted.
Cassian tilted his head. “What kind of man do you think I am, June?”
“A dangerous one,” I replied. “Which is exactly why I don’t know what to do with moments like that.”
He reached out, brushing a loose curl behind my ear. “Then don’t do anything. Let it unfold.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“But I still want you.”
This time, the pause between us wasn’t silence—it was surrender.
⸻
Later, I sat outside on the balcony, feet tucked beneath me, staring at the night. Cassian joined me, bringing two glasses of red wine.
He handed me one. I didn’t thank him. He didn’t expect me to.
We sat in silence, the moon casting silver light across his face.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he said suddenly.
I glanced over. “And who do you think I think you are?”
He hesitated. “A monster. A cold-blooded bastard who uses people to win.”
I shrugged. “That’s not wrong.”
He chuckled softly. “Then maybe I should start acting like it.”
“You already do,” I said, sipping my wine. “But sometimes… you don’t.”
Cassian looked at me then, really looked. “I don’t know how to be good, June.”
“I’m not asking you to be.”
“What are you asking for?”
I exhaled. “Just… honesty. Even if it’s ugly. Even if it hurts.”
He didn’t answer right away. But when he did, his voice was quiet.
“You’ll get my honesty. But you might not like it.”
“I don’t scare easy.”
“No,” he said, gaze lingering on my mouth. “You don’t.”
Cassian shifted beside me, his fingers brushing the rim of his wine glass, eyes locked on the distant glow of city lights.
“I should’ve walked away from this arrangement,” he muttered, voice more to himself than to me. “From you.”
I glanced at him. “Why didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched again, comfortable in its discomfort.
Finally, he said, “Because you’re the only woman I’ve met who doesn’t flinch at my shadow.”
I blinked. “That’s not exactly a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I let out a breath, half-laugh, half-exasperation. “You are exhausting, you know that?”
His mouth tilted at one corner. “So I’ve been told.”
I studied him then, under the pale light of the moon — not the billionaire, not the legend, not the man with the wolfish grin and ice in his veins. Just a man sitting beside a woman he couldn’t quite control.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” I said quietly.
He turned, eyes narrowing slightly. “How do I look at you?”
“Like you want me,” I said. “But also like you’re afraid of what that means.”
Cassian leaned closer, the air between us charged, taut. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
“No. I think you’re afraid of what I might unearth in you.”
He held my gaze for a long beat, the silver in his eyes catching moonlight like steel.
“You think too much,” he murmured.
“You feel too little.”
A slow, dangerous smile played on his lips. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
His hand came to rest over mine on the armrest. He didn’t grip, didn’t demand — just laid it there. Warm. Solid. Human.
“Every time you walk into a room,” he said, “I feel everything. That’s the problem.”
Something tightened in my chest. Because suddenly, I believed him.
And that terrified me more than any of his power plays.
“I didn’t come here to fall for you,” I whispered.
Cassian’s voice was low, like velvet on a razor’s edge. “Then stop standing so close to the edge.”
I didn’t pull away.
And he didn’t move.
We sat like that, beneath the stars — not lovers, not enemies. Just two broken people pretending they weren’t already halfway in too deep.
- Writer
