Cassidy #3
I don’t argue, no matter how much I want to. Evander lives in his own world, one I can’t understand, and part of me feels like I owe this to him.
The ribbon sits in a curl on the desk, and I smooth it flat with my thumb. Once, twice, three times. Grounding myself through repetitive movement until it lies perfectly straight.
I undo it and take the lid from the box, looking down at the gift in front of me in surprise.
“What is this?” I ask, lifting the small cube out of the box with a confused look.
I turn it back and forth in my hands, trying to figure it out.
The wood is dark and smooth, with no visible seams or openings. What is it?
Evander grins. “It’s a puzzle box. I got it made specially for you.”
“A puzzle box?” I bite my lip, scent glands tingling faintly as I run my fingers across the sides, wondering if there’s a hidden lever or something.
“Yes. You’ve got to figure out how to open it without breaking it, so you can get to the gift inside.” He waggles his brows, and if I wasn’t so drained, maybe the enthusiasm would be catching. “Creative, right? It’s something fun and stress relieving. It’s like self-care.”
This is not stress relief.
Now, he’s so worried about me falling apart that he thinks I need stress relief.
And the self-care he’s decided I need comes in the form of another thing to add onto my to-do list.
I need to not only figure out how to open this thing—without breaking it, or that’ll upset him—but I’ve also got to manage it in a reasonable amount of time when I don’t even have much of it to spare.
I’m running behind on everything.
“Oh, thanks,” I say softly. “That’s…” I sigh. “Van, this really isn’t working. I’ve told you to stop. To back off. To let me find my feet and just…”
“We’re fated, daisy. Why are you fighting this?”
“Why rush?” I counter, a headache throbbing behind my eyes. “I’m sorry, Van, but this isn’t working. I have too much to do, and I can’t… please, can you just go?”
He narrows his eyes. “I’ll be talking with your boss about how run down you are, little omega,” he says, voice dropping into a warning rumble. “Whether you’re willing to accept it or not—I’m your alpha, and that is my right.”
A sharp, distressed snarl tears out of me before I can stop it. I jump from my seat and slam my hands down on the desk in a very unlike me move.
My breathing turns ragged, glands aching painfully, but I don’t care.
“Don’t you dare,” I snap. “That’s ridiculous, and I’m not standing for it.”
“You’re dizzy where you stand,” he snarls, leaning across the table, strong arms flexing beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt.
His scent sharpens aggressively, warm chocolate burning away into bitter coffee and smoke.
“You can’t push yourself this hard for a job, Cassie,” he barks, gesturing to my nest in annoyance. “You can’t fucking live here trying to get it all done. You’re drowning.”
I shake my head, tears welling up again, but the fight drains out of me almost as quickly as it arrived, leaving only exhaustion behind.
“If I drown, Van, then that has to be my choice. You can throw all the lifeboats you want, but forcing them on me won’t help anything.”
I gesture to the door.
“Please, leave.”
He storms out, slamming the door behind him.
I give myself exactly one minute to cry before I force myself back to work.
***
“What is all of this?” Harlan demands, long fingers curling around the folders he’s pulled from the top of the pile.
I gasp, looking up at my boss in shock.
Harlan’s broad shoulders are tense beneath his dark button-down, muted hazel eyes fixed sharply on the paperwork spread across my desk.
His gaze flicks briefly towards my nest beneath the window, nostrils flaring once before his attention snaps back to me.
His jaw tightens, anger blazing across his face.
Oh, no. I’ve really, really messed up.
“Um, I’m just—”
“Why are you doing work on the Telei campaign?” he asks sharply. “We’re not on that project.”
“Oh, I was just—”
“You’ve got enough to be doing instead of wasting your talents on something so pedestrian,” he continues, attention locking onto me with the kind of terrifying focus that makes my stomach knot instantly. “If you have time to do other work, you’re not getting enough done for me.”
The words hit harder than they should. I’ve been trying so hard to be perfect.
So hard to be the trainee he deserves—rather than the one he was saddled with.
“Come see me at nine,” he says. I nod glumly. “We’ll go over your task list and make sure it’s accurate.”
Panic bubbles up in my gut, and his nose wrinkles immediately as the sharp edge of it leaks into my scent.
I’ve not yet used my scent neutraliser, and even if I had, we’re in my office, and my scent always lingers here.
Especially after sleeping in it and perfuming the entire room overnight.
His eyes drag slowly across the blankets tangled together, and I regret not making more time to clean up after myself. My nest shouldn’t look so distressed—not when I have visitors who are going to judge it.
Not when I need this alpha to think me capable.
Something unreadable flashes across his face, and I anxiously twist in my seat, waiting for him to continue.
“Get a window open and clean this place up,” he snaps, clearly overwhelmed by the stale stress scent hanging through the office. “I never thought I’d need to ask the cleaning staff to maintain your office, but clearly, I was wrong.”
Shame crashes into me instantly, hot enough that my scent turns painfully sharp.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Have you even been home?” he cuts in.
The question startles me enough that I look up at him properly.
Muted hazel eyes burn almost molten now, frustration sharpening every line of his face.
“It’s barely six,” he continues tightly, “and you’re here looking worse than you did yesterday.”
My cheeks flush painfully.
Of course, he can smell it, too.
The shame twisting through me sours the cream in my scent into something unpleasantly sharp.
Harlan exhales harshly through his nose. “You smell exhausted, Cassie. I never signed up to be a babysitter, and I can’t have you running yourself into the ground.”
The words come out rougher than intended.
His expression hardens immediately afterwards, like he regrets saying it.
“You’re messing up, Cassie, and that’s not what I signed up for,” he continues coldly. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but get a hold of yourself and start putting your effort in where it matters.”
My throat tightens hard enough that even swallowing feels difficult. For one awful second, I wonder if disappointment can actually kill.
Because somehow, his disappointment hurts more than the burst appendix I suffered when I was eleven.
“Of course, Harlan,” I whisper. “I’ll get right onto that.”
My voice is thick with unshed tears, and I force the steadiest smile I can manage.
His expression twists—not into satisfaction, but into something worse.
Frustration.
The sneer twisting at his mouth causes my legs to tremble, especially as he braces one hand against my desk, fine veins standing out faintly beneath the skin of his wrist.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
The words are quiet enough that I almost miss them, but, of course, I don’t.
Not when we’re in a silent office, just the two of us. Not when I cling to every scrap of approval he gives me, like the desperate omega I apparently am.
Before I can respond, he straightens abruptly, adjusting the tie I know he’s regretting wearing.
“Let’s hope this meeting fixes whatever the hell is going on with you,” he says sharply. “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
He storms out of my office, dark blonde hair already falling slightly out of place from where he’s clearly dragged his hands through it repeatedly.
The door slams behind him hard enough to make me jump.
Silence crashes down around me, and the room cools to an almost icy temperature.
My heart races painfully beneath my ribs, hands clammy against the edge of my desk, but somehow, I don’t even have enough energy left to cry.
Instead, I inhale shakily and pull the Telei documents back towards me.
This is due in less than two days, and I can’t let Gemma down.
Not when she’s counting on me. Not when I promised I’d help her.
And especially not when failing her might prove Harlan right about me.
***
“Hey, strawberry shortcake,” Isaac says, dark espresso-brown hair still perfectly styled despite the late hour as he peers his head into my office.
I try to scoot out of my nest, but he shakes his head, and I settle back down again.
“You’re fine there,” he says, kicking off his shoes like he already knows he’ll be staying awhile. He sits against the desk on the carpet, stretching his legs out. “It’s late, you don’t need to get out when you’re looking so cosy.”
I grin, but it fades into a yawn faster than I can realise.
He frowns. “So, this is why you’ve been ignoring me for the last few hours.”
I gasp and grab my phone. Fuck.
“It’s dead,” I say with a wince. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“I’m not upset that you’ve been busy, shortcake,” he says gently. “I’m upset that you’re so tired and overworked.”
“I’m nearly done,” I promise. “I’ve just had quite a few deadlines hit at the same time.”
His brows draw together. “Cass, are you doing your work or are you doing someone else’s?”
My eyes widen, and he gives an understanding nod.
“I thought so. Okay, what can I do to help?”
I practically choke on air now, and he reaches out to pat my back gently.
“Don’t die,” he finishes dryly, rubbing my back once more before pulling his hand away.
“I wasn’t going to die,” I mutter weakly.
“You nearly took yourself out choking on air, so I’m not convinced.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me.
Isaac’s expression softens instantly, and warmth creeps along my skin.
I didn’t realise how cold I’d gotten until he got here.
“Okay,” he says gently. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
I hesitate.
Technically, none of this is my problem. I volunteered.
Gemma didn’t force me, she actually protested my help, despite how much she needed it.