His Assistant. His obsession

Chapter 2

The next morning, I was in the coffee shop before seven.

This was my new reality: buying Cassian Hale's obscenely expensive oat milk latte with an extra shot of caramel, a drink that cost more than my daily meal budget.

The barista, Chloe, who knew me from my own desperate caffeine runs, raised an eyebrow as she rang it up.

"Fancy coffee, Isabella. Who's the lucky guy?"

"No one." I handed over the last of my weekly allowance, the bills feeling like sand slipping through my fingers. "It's for a project."

She shrugged and slid the cup across the counter.

I hurried to Cassian's first class, which he was, predictably, skipping, and left the latte on his desk with the note he'd demanded: For my favorite valedictorian. —Isabella.

My sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as I retreated, desperate to disappear before anyone noticed.

Too late.

Laughter erupted behind me. I turned, my stomach curdling.

Cassian's inner circle, the lacrosse team and their socialite girlfriends, had gathered around his desk like vultures.

One of them, a blonde with a designer bag bigger than my rent, held up my note, reading it aloud in a mocking falsetto.

"For my favorite valedictorian! Who do you think she is, Cassian?"

And then he was there. Cassian materialized from nowhere, immaculate in a charcoal blazer, looking like he'd stepped off a magazine cover despite skipping every class that morning.

He plucked the note from his friend's hand with surgical precision, his expression a perfect mask of boredom.

"None of your business," he said smoothly, tucking the note into his breast pocket.

Then his eyes found me in the hallway.

He smiled.

It was private. Possessive. Dangerous.

And it made my stomach drop like I'd missed a step on a staircase.

He kept his promise. He never acknowledged me publicly. I was his secret, his dirty little prize, the scholarship girl he used in the shadows. And I hated it.

But worse than the hate was the shameful, traitorous part of me that looked forward to his midnight summons. The part that craved his attention. The part that felt a thrill when his possessive gaze found me across the cafeteria, a silent brand that said mine.

I was falling for him. And falling for a man like Cassian Hale was the most dangerous thing I could possibly do.

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Lectures anchored me, thank God. Here, I was just Isabella, not the thief, not Cassian's plaything. I preferred being the desperate scholarship girl to being his property.

The final bell rang, and I gathered my things. Most Friday nights, Rita, my roommate, would throw a pile of clothes at me and drag me out to some party I couldn't afford. I'd go, stay an hour, and slip back to my assignments.

But tonight was different. Tonight, I intended to stay out until dawn, screw the assignments, screw the pressure. I needed air. I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

I stepped outside, the cold air biting my cheeks...

And stopped dead.

A black sedan was parked directly in front of the classroom building. It gleamed like a predator in the fading light.

"Long day?"

I flinched and spun. My breath caught in my throat.

Cassian leaned against the hood, arms crossed, devastatingly handsome in head-to-toe black. He looked like he'd been carved from shadow and sin, every angle sharp, every line deliberate.

His tone was laced with mockery and faux care, a velvet knife pressed to my throat.

"What do you want?" I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.

He smiled, slow, cruel, utterly captivating. "Feisty. A little, are we?"

I shook my head, my hands trembling at my sides. "Cassian, please. I'm not interested in games. What do you want?"

His eyes narrowed. "Cassian? Did I give you permission to call me by my first name?"

He pushed off the hood and stalked toward me, each step deliberate, eating up the distance until he was close enough that I could smell his cologne, something expensive and dark, like cedar and smoke.

He waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes never left mine. "That's the most expensive name you will ever call in your entire life. Now get to the penthouse. I have a task you're needed for."

He turned, slid into the driver's seat, and drove off without a backward glance. The taillights disappeared around the corner, leaving me standing alone in the cold.

What did I expect? That he'd drive me? I was being foolish.

I started walking. The penthouse was a good twenty minutes away, but I had no choice. And the worst part?

I didn't even know if I regretted it.

And it was too early, wasn't it? Too early to feel this tangled, this trapped, this alive.

***

The security guard let me in with a nod. Cassian's car was already parked outside, gleaming under the floodlights. I entered the building, and my breath caught all over again.

The penthouse was even richer, even more obscenely opulent than I remembered. Marble floors, vaulted ceilings, art that probably cost more than my father's house.

"Reyes, you have two hours. You can admire that when I'm not here. For now, hurry, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

I spun, searching for the source of that velvet-command voice. A smaller sitting room opened off the main hall. I crossed to it and found him sprawled in an armchair, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

He didn't look up. "Economics seminar. My project is due Monday."

He handed me the papers. Our fingers brushed, his warm, mine cold, and a jolt shot up my arm like static electricity.

His eyes finally lifted to meet mine. They were gray and cold and burning all at once.

"Don't mess it up," he said softly. "If you do, you won't like what I'll do to you."

He paused, letting the threat hang in the air. Then his gaze traveled down my body, slow, deliberate, claiming every inch. A predator assessing his prey.

"Or maybe," he added, a brow lifting, "you'll just hate yourself for enjoying it."

The implication landed like a blow. Heat rushed to my face, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. I held back the urge to roll my eyes, barely.

Oh, Lord. Just get me through this.

He rose from the chair in one fluid motion, closing the distance between us until his chest was inches from mine. His hand came up, and I flinched, but he only tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my neck, leaving fire in their wake.

"Two hours," he murmured, his breath warm against my temple. "Don't disappoint me."

Then he was gone, striding out of the room without a backward glance, leaving me drowning in the ghost of his touch.

I sucked in a shaky breath and sat down.

***

I typed the last word and let out a long, shuddering sigh. The project was finished, clean, precise, perfect. Cassian would have nothing to complain about.

I packed my bag and left the penthouse, the city skyline glittering through the windows like a thousand cold, indifferent eyes.

The sun had already set. The streets were quiet.

By the time I reached my dorm, Rita wasn't back. The room was empty, predictably. I changed into an old T-shirt and a frayed skirt and collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I wouldn't be doing anything tonight. I couldn't afford the energy.

***

An hour later, I found myself in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, shivering in the cold night air. Rita had dragged me to yet another party, a massive house off-campus, throbbing with bass and bodies.

She was already swept away by a group of guys, her blonde hair bobbing through the crowd like a beacon.

I pressed myself against the wall, nursing a cheap drink I didn't want, trying to disappear.

"Hi."

I turned. Julian from the Physics department stood beside me, a warm smile on his face. He was top of his class, a fellow nerd, and one of the few people at Sterling who didn't make me feel like an imposter.

"Hi, Julian." I managed a smile. "It's been a while."

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I've been buried in exams. You too, I guess?"

I nodded. "Something like that."

He offered his hand, his eyes bright with genuine warmth. "Come on. We have so much to catch up on."

I hesitated.

And then, across the crowded room, I felt it.

A gaze. Heavy. Burning.

I looked up.

Cassian stood at the top of the staircase, a glass in his hand, surrounded by his lacrosse cronies. But his attention wasn't on them.

It was on me.

And on Julian's hand, extended toward mine.

His eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. And something dark and possessive flickered across his face, a promise, a warning, a threat.

Careful, Isabella.

I pulled my hand back.