Isadora's POv
“LA, why the sudden change of location?” I asked Cassian over breakfast, watching as he prepared his latte with meticulous care.
He didn’t look up as he stirred the drink, his expression unreadable. “Business,” he replied curtly, his tone as cold as the marble floor beneath our feet.
I frowned, setting down my fork. “Business? What kind of business?”
Cassian finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a detached indifference that made my chest tighten. “The kind that doesn’t concern you, Isadora,” he said, taking a sip of his latte as if the conversation was over.
I bit back a retort, my appetite waning as I pushed the food around my plate. His sudden change in demeanor was jarring, a sharp contrast to the man who had held me so tenderly the night before. It was as if
