Hell in his arms

Fiancee

The next couple of days passed, but not in a bad way. Something had shifted between Cassian and me. I couldn’t say exactly when it started, but it was there. The tension between us had changed, it was no longer just fear and confusion.

It felt real and I was scared, because I felt like I was beginning to develop feelings for Cassian.

I started seeing him as more than the mafia lord who owned my life. I began to notice the man underneath the cold exterior. His quiet gestures, his strange sense of humor, and the way he always noticed the little things. Like how I hated tomatoes in my food or how I liked my tea lukewarm.

I remember walking into the kitchen one afternoon out of boredom. He was already there, he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, as he tried to slice onions. I stopped in the doorway, staring at him.

"You cook now?" I asked, raising a brow.

He glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly, but there was a hint of a smirk. "Don’t look so surprised. I can handle basic things."

"Right," I said, walking over. "You’re cutting those wrong."

"Oh, so you’re a chef now?"

"Compared to you? Absolutely."

He handed me the knife. I took it, my hands brushed his accidentally, that tiny touch felt like electricity. We stood there, side by side, slicing onions, chopping vegetables, throwing sarcastic remarks. At some point, I laughed a real laugh. And when I looked up, he was watching me. Not saying anything. Just watching.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I just never heard you laugh like that."

That moment stuck with me. It wasn’t grand or dramatic. Just simple. But it meant something.

Then there was the night we went to the pool. It had been his idea, surprisingly.

"You need to loosen up," he said, tossing me a swimsuit. "You look like you’re always bracing for a punch."

"Maybe because I am."

He raised a brow but didn’t push. Later that night, we went down to the indoor pool. I still remember how the water felt as I dipped my legs into it.

"It’s warm," I said.

"It’s supposed to be," he replied, already halfway in. "Come on."

I slid in slowly. The water felt good, relaxing even. We swam a bit, quietly at first. Then he splashed me. I gasped and splashed him back. Before long, we were laughing like kids. I swam to the edge and rested my back against it.

Cassian swam over, stopping right in front of me. "You’re not scared right now," he said softly.

"No."

He didn’t move. He just stared at me with that intense look again, the one that made it hard to breathe.

Then he moved closer and held me by my waist, pulling me closer to him as he bent down and kissed me.

The kiss was gentle at first, but it deepened quickly. His hands slid down my arms, His touch wasn’t rough this time. It was soft, controlled. And it made my heart race. I felt safe and exposed all at once.

When we pulled apart, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. My cheeks were burning.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, barely able to speak.

Even now, just thinking about it made my face heat up. I pressed my hands against my cheeks and shook the memory away.

But those weren’t the only moments. There were others. Like when he helped me pick out books in the library. Or when he watched me sketch without saying a word. When I would find coffee already waiting for me in the mornings. Or when he sat beside me, just so our shoulders could touch. It was these little things that made me forget who he was.

I caught myself smiling more. Not fake smiles to get through the day, but real ones. We weren’t lovers, not yet. But there was a pull between us, something quiet but strong.

Still, it wasn’t perfect. I knew who he was. What he was capable of. And I knew this thing between us could fall apart any second. But I couldn’t stop it. And maybe I didn’t want to.

As I sat in the sitting room, flipping through a magazine, trying to distract myself from thoughts of him. The maids had brought me tea, and for once, the silence didn’t bother me.

Then the door opened without a knock. Soneone Just pushed open like the person owned the house. I looked up.

She walked in like she belonged there. A tall woman, sharp cheekbones, dressed in a designer outfit that screamed money and confidence. Her heels clicked against the floor with each step. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

She looked me up and down, slow and obviously unimpressed.

"Are you the maid?" she asked with a raised brow.

I blinked. "What?"

"I’m here to see my fiancé," she said flatly. "Cassian."

My heart dropped.

Her fiancé? Did I just hear right?

She didn’t even look at me again after that. Just walked further inside like she knew every corner of the mansion.