Cassian
“Mr. Caelian,” Peter called as he walked into my office. I didn’t bother to look up from my desk; the stack of papers in front of me needed my attention, and I was eager to finish so I could see Azalea later.
“Mr. Caelian,” he called again, his voice more insistent.
I sighed, my jaw tightening. “What is it, Peter? What do you need?”
“You have a call,” he informed me.
“From?”
“Your parents.”
The pen in my hand stopped moving. I slowly lifted my head, meeting Peter’s knowing gaze. My chest tightened—calls from my parents never brought good news.
“What do they want now?” I asked, unable to hide my frustration.
“They want you to have dinner with your fiancée tonight.”
“With Chiara.”
Peter nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I dropped my pen with force. “I’m not interested. Cancel it.”
Pet
