Trial by Fire
1204 Words
Cassian Wexley never turned down an invitation to be seen.
So naturally, the night after Rowan Maddox entered his world like a walking threat in black boots and bad moods, Cassian decided it was the perfect time to cause a scene.
He didn’t tell Rowan where they were going only that he was expected. When Rowan stepped out of the penthouse lobby to find Cassian straddling a red Ducati in leather pants and mirrored sunglasses, he considered turning around.
“You’re driving that?” Rowan asked, flat.
Cassian smirked. “Wouldn’t trust me behind the wheel?”
“I don’t trust you on the wheel.”
“Then I guess tonight’s your first test, Maddox.”
Cassian tossed him a helmet. “Hang on tight. Or don’t. I like danger.”
Rowan gritted his teeth and mounted behind him, hands firm at Cassian’s waist impersonal, but solid. Cassian leaned back just enough to feel it.
“Mm,” he said. “You’re not the talking type, are you?”
“No.”
“I’ll change that.”
The club was called VOLT a neon jungle carved into the Manhattan skyline, complete with rooftop views, body glitter, and too much bass to think.
Cassian breezed through the velvet rope like a prince returning to his kingdom.
Rowan trailed behind, all storm and shadow.
The second they entered, cameras flashed. Phones lifted. Whispers curled around Cassian’s name like smoke.
Rowan scanned everything. Exits. Angles. Faces.
Cassian, meanwhile, embraced the chaos.
“Cassy!” a voice shrieked. A shirtless bartender with glitter in his hair flung his arms around him. “You’re alive!”
Cassian grinned. “Barely. But still prettier than most.”
A drag queen nearby gasped and fanned herself. “Who’s the brooding giant behind you?”
Cassian turned, full smirk. “That’s Rowan. My new… disciplinarian.”
Rowan didn’t blink. He simply stepped closer, subtly blocking the nearest camera’s view of Cassian’s face.
Cassian raised a brow. “Careful, Maddox. If you keep doing your job that well, I might start misbehaving on purpose.”
“Try it,” Rowan said quietly. “See what happens.”
Cassian blinked. There was no flirt in that voice only steel.
He liked it.
Too much.
In the VIP lounge, Cassian drank quickly. Too quickly. The laughter around him rang hollow, like rehearsed lines in a bad play.
Rowan stood against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Unmoving.
Cassian’s gaze flicked to him again and again. Eventually, he got up liquor-swaggered and approached.
“You’re ruining the vibe.”
“I’m not here to vibe.”
Cassian got closer. Close enough that his breath brushed Rowan’s jaw.
“Why are you here, really?” he asked. “Because I know men like you. You don’t do this kind of gig unless you’re desperate. Or hiding.”
Rowan’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw ticked.
Cassian smiled. “Ah. Got under the skin, didn’t I?”
“You want to test me?” Rowan said. “Fine. Just know I hit back.”
Cassian took another step. “Do you always growl at your clients, or am I just special?”
Rowan stepped into his space, voice low and cold. “You keep pushing like this, and one day, I won’t pull back. So unless you want to see what happens when I snap”
Cassian’s pupils flared.
“sit your ass down.”
The tension between them sparked like a match. Something electric passed between their bodies anger laced with something unspoken. Lust? Maybe. Or maybe just the thrill of someone finally not playing Cassian’s game.
Cassian held the stare.
Then, surprisingly, he backed off.
But not without muttering, “You’d be hot if you weren’t such a cop.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rowan noticed the guy. Slick hair. Narrow eyes. Too focused on Cassian.
He closed in at the bar, brushing up against him deliberately. Cassian leaned away, annoyed.
“Hey, you ghosted me last week,” the man hissed.
Cassian turned, expression sour. “Because you were clingy and boring.”
“You think you’re better than me, you little”
Rowan was there in an instant.
His hand came between them, shoving the guy back without breaking stride.
“That’s enough.”
The man squared up. “Who the f*ck are you?”
Rowan’s voice was like ice. “The last person you want to make a scene with.”
The man huffed, tried to step around him.
Rowan didn’t move. “Touch him again and I’ll snap your wrist so clean your chiropractor will feel it.”
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a promise.
The guy backed off.
Cassian said nothing just took a drink and stared into the bottom of the glass.
Rowan looked at him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Cassian snapped, “What do you care? You’re not here to care, remember?”
Rowan stared at him, face unreadable.
But his voice was quiet. “I care because you keep putting yourself in danger. And that either means you think you’re invincible… or you don’t care if you live.”
Cassian froze.
The music thudded on, the crowd danced around them, but he stood there like he’d been slapped.
He said nothing more the rest of the night.
Back at the penthouse, the silence between them was heavier than any bassline.
Cassian peeled off his jacket and tossed it across a chair. Rowan leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed.
“Don’t worry,” Cassian muttered. “I didn’t bring anyone home tonight. You don’t have to stand guard by the bedroom.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
Cassian looked over, surprised.
“You think you know everything,” he said.
“I don’t. But I know pain when I see it.”
That hit too close. Cassian turned away, pacing.
“You want the truth?” he muttered. “Fine. I drink because it quiets my head. I party because it proves I’m still wanted. And I push people like you because I’m sick of being handled like a PR fire.”
Rowan said nothing. Just watched.
“I’ve spent my whole life being told to be less,” Cassian added. “Less loud, less gay, less embarrassing. So yeah. Maybe I’m trying to burn it all down.”
Rowan stepped closer.
“You don’t have to burn, Cassian,” he said softly. “You can rebuild.”
Cassian turned slowly. “You talk like you’ve done it.”
“I have.”
Their eyes met. The air between them buzzed.
Cassian took a step forward barefoot, tense. “You gonna rebuild me, Maddox?”
Rowan didn’t flinch. “Not my job.”
“Then why are you still here?”
A long silence.
Then Rowan answered, voice low: “Because I see something in you worth protecting.”
Cassian’s breath hitched.
For a second, the tension shifted. From sharp to soft. The space b
etween them thinned.
But Cassian backed away first.
“Good night, bodyguard,” he said quietly. “Try not to dream about me.”
Rowan didn’t respond.
But he didn’t look away, either.
- Writer
