a beautiful captive

chapter 4

Cassian

“That’s it. Thanks for your time.”

I snapped my laptop shut, a bit harder than I meant to. The apartment went dead quiet—almost too quiet after that marathon of a meeting. I didn’t bother letting my thoughts wander. I just went straight to the bottle, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and decided the rest of today was just for me.

No calls. No demands.

I sank into the black leather couch and let my muscles finally relax, relishing the quiet. Took a long, slow sip. The whiskey burned, weirdly, that sharp edge was exactly what I needed. For a few seconds, everything in me calmed down.

That didn’t last as my phone lit up.

Honestly, I knew who it was before I checked the screen. When I did, I groaned out loud, already feeling my precious peace vanish.

So much for that.

“Yes, Mum?” I said, sitting back and bracing for whatever this was going to be.

“Cass, darling, how are you?” she said, her voice warm but sort of absent, like she was only half-tuned in.

“I’m alri—”

“That’s great!” she trilled, cutting me off. “Julian just told me something, and I had to call, because honestly, I couldn't believe it.”

I heard her laugh—a light, distracted sound, like maybe she was doing something else while talking to me.

Naturally. Julian.

I closed my eyes, already irritated.

“So what did he say?” My voice stayed flat. Mentally preparing myself for her lectures and thinking of different ways I could kill Julian. Of course, he couldn't keep his f*****g mouth shut.

“He said, You’re refusing the blind dates I set up for you,” she said, like it was nothing. “Tell me you didn’t.”

I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. A headache was already forming, right between my eyes. I was relieved it wasn't about the kidn*pped girl in the other room, but silently wishing it had been, considering how preferable it would have been to this.

Seriously. Next time I see him, he’s getting an earful.

“Can we talk about this later?” The words felt useless even as I said them. I barely had anything left in my patience bank.

“Cassian.” She dropped my full name like a hammer—no room for dodging. “Do you have any idea how long it took, how many people I had to call, to find the right girls for you? Girls who are not just beautiful, but come from powerful families?”

I took another swing of whiskey. At this point, more for the sting than anything else.

“No, Mum. I don’t.”

“Well, it took a lot of time,” she snapped. She wasn’t bothering to hide her annoyance anymore. “And you’re going. End of story.”

She hung up.

Just like that.

I let the phone slide from my hand, just stared at it for a second. The silence came back, but somehow it felt heavier now—thick and pressing, not peaceful at all.

I slumped deeper onto the couch and drained the rest of my drink. This time, the burn felt harsh.

Blind dates. Expectations.

I let all of it settle for a minute—the weight, the certainty. But something else crept in, nudging at the edge of my mind.

Locked in that room down the hall. Waiting. Maybe she was innocent. Maybe she had no idea why she was here. But experience had taught me better than to trust what I saw—and there was every chance she was lying.

My grip tightened around the empty glass, the sound sharp and hollow in the quiet. I let out a slow breath, but the tension stuck like a stone in my chest. It wouldn’t budge. So I reached for my phone without thinking and dialed. My hand moved on its own. It rang twice.

“Are you busy tonight?” I blurted out as soon as someone picked up. I was already on my feet, exiting my office and straight into the hallway—remaining seated seemed impossible with everything pressing down like this.

There was only one way to deal with this mess.

And it definitely wasn’t sitting in silence.