CHAPTER FIVE:THE DEVIL IN DETAILS
896 Words
Eden hadn’t slept.
Not really.
She’d drifted—hovering between fragments of a dream that lingered like smoke on her skin. Cassian’s voice still echoed in her head, low and dark, curling around her name like a possessive tether: “Say it. Say my name, little dove.”
She had. In her sleep.
And now she couldn’t stop remembering the feeling of his mouth on her neck, his breath at her ear, the heavy drag of fingers between her thighs.
She sat up abruptly.
No.
She clutched the sheets, breath shuddering. Her panties were damp, embarrassingly so, and her inner thighs still ached with phantom need.
This wasn’t right. This was her boss. A man so cold and untouchable, he practically bled ice through his veins.
But there was fire beneath that suit. She’d felt it.
Or had she imagined it?
Her phone buzzed. An email from the office.
“Mandatory briefing at 9 a.m. sharp. Executive boardroom. All interns present.”
She frowned. That was unusual.
Her stomach twisted—not with dread, but with something that felt dangerously close to anticipation.
---
She dressed carefully. Ivory blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. Not too tight, not too suggestive—but it didn’t matter. When she caught her reflection, she knew it. She looked like temptation dressed as purity.
Lip gloss. Minimal eyeliner.
Stay professional. Breathe.
She arrived fifteen minutes early, heart thudding behind her breastbone. The city was beginning to lose its overwhelming shimmer, replaced now by steel, shadows, and purpose.
But nothing could have prepared her for the way Cassian looked that morning.
He was already in the executive boardroom when she arrived—dark suit, cuffs undone, fingers wrapped around a black ceramic coffee mug. He looked like sin in human form, with that dangerous calm of a man used to commanding empires—and burning them down if he had to.
He looked up. Saw her.
And for the briefest moment, the edges of his mouth curved.
Not a smile.
A warning.
Her steps faltered. The other interns filed in behind her, chattering nervously.
She took a seat. Pretended not to notice the way he watched her.
But she felt it.
That gaze.
That heat.
“Today’s exercise will be public problem solving under pressure,” he said. “You’ll be taking turns presenting. Eden Haven—you first.”
Her heart dropped.
Her? First?
She stood, trying to look composed even as her blood rushed to her ears. She walked to the front of the room, pulse hammering. The screen blinked behind her, ready.
She cleared her throat. Began.
Halfway through her introduction, Cassian stood. Walked slowly. Deliberately. He positioned himself behind her, just off to the side—but close enough she could feel his presence like a shadow against her back.
“Speak up,” he said calmly. “Don’t hide.”
She lifted her chin. Tried to steady her voice.
“Effective crisis management begins with—”
He leaned in.
No one else could see.
“Your voice shakes when you lie,” he murmured against her ear. “Are you lying to yourself, little dove?”
She inhaled sharply, trying not to show how wrecked she felt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped to the next slide.
The room faded. The numbers, the charts, the words.
It was just him.
Him and her and the question he didn’t ask aloud:
Do you want me to stop?
And her terrifying answer:
No.
She finished the presentation. Her voice had steadied by the end—but her hands were clenched behind her back, fingernails digging into her palm.
The room clapped. Muted. Polite.
“Miss Haven,” Cassian said, his voice once again a razor wrapped in velvet. “My office. Now.”
---
The door clicked shut behind her. The silence was thick. Electric.
He walked to his desk. Didn’t sit.
She stood, still trembling slightly, as if some part of her had known this was coming from the moment she stepped into this building.
He turned slowly.
“You distracted me,” he said.
Her lips parted. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“I didn’t say it was intentional.”
Another step.
“I said it happened.”
Another.
He was in front of her now. Close enough that she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. His jaw was clenched. His eyes burned with something dark and indecent.
“And you need to understand something, Eden.”
A pause.
“This isn’t just a job for you. Not anymore.”
Her breath caught. “What does that mean?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Exactly what you think it means.”
He stepped closer.
So close she could feel the heat of his body. The scent of cedar and sin.
“You dream about me.”
Her spine straightened. “I—”
“I know because I dream about you too.”
A beat passed. Then another.
He raised his hand, like he might touch her face, her neck, her mouth.
But he didn’t.
He let it fall.
“You’re dismissed.”
She turned and walked out, unsure whether she was fleeing from danger or toward it.
But one thing was clear—
She wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore.
She craved it.
- Writer
