A Weekend of Secrets
1200 Words
The black Maybach glided through the winding roads of the Hamptons like a silent predator. Outside the tinted windows, the world shifted from urban grit to sprawling wealth; rolling green lawns, iron gates, and beachside mansions that whispered old money and whispered it loudly.
Elara sat in the backseat with her hands folded in her lap, trying to steady her breath. Cassian sat beside her, buried in work, typing something on his tablet. He hadn’t said a word since they left Manhattan.
He was wearing the uniform again: tailored navy slacks, white shirt, no tie. Every line of his posture screamed control. Detachment. Power.
She hated that she was watching him. Hated that her lips still tingled from that kiss.
The car turned through a wrought-iron gate and pulled up to a massive stone estate overlooking the ocean. The Vale family’s Hamptons retreat.
It was grand but cold, like Cassian himself. A place built to intimidate, not welcome.
As the driver opened the door, Cassian finally spoke. “Remember what I told you.”
Elara looked at him. “Which part? The lie or the warning?”
“Both.”
She stepped out without waiting for him.
The warm coastal breeze hit her immediately, fluttering the hem of her cream dress. The estate loomed before her—stone columns, sleek glass, and a fountain that probably cost more than her father’s house.
A tall woman emerged from the front doors.
She was flawless. Dark red hair coiled into a chignon, cheekbones sharp enough to slice glass, and a sapphire blue dress that looked custom. Her heels clicked crisply as she approached.
Elara felt underdressed in her modest elegance.
“Elara,” the woman said, her voice smooth like old champagne. “I’m Sienna Vale. Cassian’s cousin.”
Cousin?
She extended a hand, and Elara shook it. Firm. Cool.
“I’ve heard… things,” Sienna said with a pleasant smile. “Welcome to the family.”
“I’m still adjusting,” Elara replied, matching her smile.
Sienna’s gaze sharpened. “I’m sure you are.”
Cassian appeared behind them, expression unreadable. “Sienna.”
She kissed both his cheeks. “Still brooding, cousin?”
“And you’re still meddling,” he replied dryly.
She turned back to Elara. “Come inside. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”
Inside, the estate was a museum of wealth—modern art on the walls, chandeliers overhead, floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the Atlantic.
But Elara noticed something else too.
Tension.
Subtle, but present.
A group of people milled in the main salon. Elites. Beautiful. Polished. Dangerous.
Cassian introduced them briskly.
There was Damon Vale, Cassian’s younger brother—dark-haired and sharp-tongued, who looked at Elara with a smirk that made her skin crawl.
Then Alaric Thorn, Cassian’s best friend and co-founder of Vale Industries. Quiet. Observant. The kind of man who missed nothing.
And finally, Genevieve Sinclair.
She was stunning. Tall, silver-blonde, and dressed like royalty. Her smile was poised, but her eyes were knives.
“Cassian didn’t tell me he was married,” Genevieve said, her voice honey-sweet and full of poison. “How fast things change.”
Elara stiffened. “It was a private ceremony.”
“How charming.” Genevieve leaned closer. “And sudden.”
“She’s adjusting well,” Cassian cut in, tone cool. “She’s not interested in society games.”
“Oh, but she’ll have to learn,” Genevieve replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This world eats the unprepared.”
The rest of the day blurred into polite conversation and silent observation. Cassian barely looked at Elara, keeping to his inner circle. She felt like a ghost in her own skin.
Later, as the sun set, Sienna found Elara alone on the balcony.
“You look like you need a drink,” she said, offering a crystal glass of rosé.
“Thanks.” Elara accepted it gratefully.
Sienna leaned against the railing. “They’re not all bad. Just... wary.”
“Wary of me?”
“Of what you represent.” Sienna studied her. “Cassian doesn’t act impulsively. He doesn’t do marriage. So when he shows up with a bride, people assume there’s a motive.”
“There is,” Elara said quietly. “Just not the one they think.”
“Ah.” Sienna’s eyes glittered. “So it’s not love, then.”
“No.”
“And yet... he kissed you last night.”
Elara nearly choked on her wine. “What?”
Sienna’s smile widened. “This house has cameras, darling. You think no one watches him?”
Heat surged into Elara’s cheeks.
Sienna didn’t press, just sipped her drink. “He’s not as emotionless as he pretends.”
“I don’t think he’s emotionless,” Elara said. “I think he’s afraid of them.”
Now Sienna looked at her like she was seeing her for the first time.
“That may be the most accurate thing anyone’s said about Cassian in a decade.”
They stood in silence for a while, the sound of the ocean below soothing Elara’s nerves.
“You don’t trust me,” Elara said softly.
Sienna gave a small shrug. “I don’t know you.”
“I didn’t trick my way into this. I didn’t seduce him. I didn’t plan anything.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why are you watching me like I’m about to steal the silver?”
“Because everyone wants something from Cassian. If you’re the first who doesn’t, then you might be the most dangerous of them all.”
That night, after the formal dinner, Elara returned to her room.
It was lavish; white linen sheets, glass doors that opened to the sea, and a vanity that looked like it belonged in a royal palace.
She sat on the edge of the bed, still trying to process the day. The politics. The people. The way Genevieve kept touching Cassian’s arm like she’d done it a thousand times before.
There was a knock at her door.
Her heart jumped.
When she opened it, Cassian stood there, his expression unreadable.
“You handled yourself well today,” he said.
“I’m not your employee.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
She crossed her arms. “Did you bring cameras here too? Or do you only spy on me in the city?”
He didn’t answer.
Silence swelled between them.
Then he said, “Genevieve is not what you think.”
“She’s beautiful. Wealthy. Knows your secrets. That’s exactly what I think she is.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened. “She’s in the past.”
“Then why is she trying to be your future?”
He stepped closer. “Because people like Genevieve hate losing.”
“Am I your shield against her?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re more than that.”
She didn’t know what that meant.
Didn’t know if she wanted to.
“Goodnight, Cassian.”
She shut the door before he could say more.
And locked it.
Because if he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull away.
- Writer
