Cassidy
By the time dessert arrives, the sharpest edge of my panic has faded.
I don’t think it could disappear completely whilst sitting between four men who know entirely too much about me and Harlan Mercer’s terrifyingly observant parents.
They’re sweet, especially Celeste, his omega mum, but I feel a little like I’m on display. My mum has carried most of the conversation and seems to be happy.
Which is all that matters.
I’d been so certain tonight would be awful the second I saw Harlan across the ballroom. He was angry, I could tell, but he’s been… well, polite is probably the best word for it.
I thought he’d be desperate for the opportunity to humiliate me further, to lecture me about my health in front of my mum.
For him to lecture me again about yesterday’s fainting episode.
And yet, there hasn’t been a single hint of it. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m grateful for it.
I look around the table, catching Isaac’s gaze, and he grins at me before gesturing to my plate.
Oops. It should feel humiliating, but it doesn’t. All night long, Isaac’s been there, talking about the food and encouraging my appetite.
I know it’s his way of showing he cares. Instead of it being an additional pressure, it’s felt nice for him to be so… attentive.
I glance down at my dessert plate—a chocolate tart decorated with little pieces of gold leaf—and take a spoonful.
It’s delicious, and I grin at Isaac. He returns it, and warmth unfurls through me as my scent perfumes around us.
My mum is happily talking to Celeste about one of the outreach programmes they both support, and neither of them seems to notice my scent change. Julianna and Adrian are quietly debating funding structures across the table like terrifyingly elegant sharks and don’t look up either.
But the other five men all look my way, pausing their own conversations.
I duck my head, flushing instantly. At work, the scent neutralisers Harlan insists on have been a blessing for disguising my little crush on Isaac.
But now, my scent is going to give me away.
Their silence only lasts for a few moments before their conversations restart. Silas has Frankie and Evander arguing about whether networking events are psychological warfare.
Evander is the only one to say yes.
Isaac is quietly listening in but hasn’t gotten involved.
My eyes flick towards Harlan automatically before I can stop myself. He’s quieter than the others tonight, broad shoulders relaxed slightly beneath his tuxedo jacket as he listens to something Adrian says.
I’m not sure what I expected him to be like outside of work, but it wasn’t this.
The thought sends something strange fluttering low in my stomach.
Yesterday in his office, I could’ve sworn he hated me. Tonight, though, every time I’ve looked at him, he’s been watching me.
It makes no sense.
“You’re staring again.”
I nearly jump out of my skin and grip my fork tighter. Isaac grins around the rim of his wine glass.
Heat floods my face instantly. “I was not.”
“Mhm,” Frankie teases, his voice dropping lower. “I’d be intimidated if he were my boss, too.”
I grimace, nudging him slightly. “Don’t be mean.”
Frankie snorts but doesn’t say anything.
“Oh, my goodness, leave me alone,” I say, laughing as I do it. He winks and joins back in with Evander and Silas.
Silas laughs softly whilst Harlan’s jaw tightens.
Weirdly, that makes the butterflies burst through my stomach harder.
Which is probably a sign I need actual psychiatric intervention at this point.
My mum suddenly straightens slightly in her seat.
“Oh!” Her face brightens as she spots someone across the ballroom. “Could you excuse me a moment, sweetheart? Amelia’s here.”
I follow her gaze automatically towards another elegantly dressed woman near the auction displays. I don’t recognise her, but my mum seems excited.
“Go,” I say immediately. “I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be long.” She squeezes my shoulder affectionately before rising from the table.
The second she disappears into the crowd, something shifts subtly around the table.
I’m much more aware that I’m sitting alone amongst all of them now, without Mum’s scent beside me.
Frankie glances towards me immediately. “Want me to come with you to get another drink from the bar?”
Before I can even open my mouth, Evander speaks, leaning forward slightly.
“I’ll take her,” he says confidently. Evander grins at me. “But first, you owe me a dance, daisy.”
Most people probably wouldn’t notice anything strange about his tone at all.
But I do.
So does Frankie, judging by the slight lift of his brows.
“Daisy?” Frankie asks.
“None of your business, Bennett,” Evander says, rising from the table in a fluid move.
He adjusts his suit jacket and strides around the table. I look around, my gaze catching on the amusement in Isaac’s face and the smirk on Silas’s lips.
Heat rushes to my cheeks instantly.
“Evander—” I start, hesitant about this.
“Hm.” Harlan cuts in suddenly, eyes settling on Frankie instead of me. “Bennett, how are things at Visaro?”
Frankie’s attention shifts immediately, and I don’t miss the way Harlan’s tone subtly changes. Still polite, still composed, but deliberate.
Like he’s redirecting him on purpose.
“Oh, you know.” Frankie leans back in his chair slightly. “Same chaos, different campaign.”
Silas perks up instantly. “Are you still leading the Valére launch styling?”
Frankie groans dramatically. “Don’t remind me. Their creative director changes their mind every six minutes. I swear, I’ve rebuilt the campaign mood boards three times this week.”
“That bad?” Silas asks, sounding far too entertained.
“They decided they wanted ‘editorial intimacy’ whilst somehow also demanding commercial accessibility.”
Silas physically winces. “Not a chance.”
“It gets worse,” Frankie says darkly. “Now they want natural texture, but only curated natural texture.”
“I’m stealing Cassidy now,” Evander says smoothly beside me.
My stomach flips. Evander Whitmore says everything like people listening is a given.
Frankie glances back towards me instinctively, but before he can say anything, Harlan asks another question.
“What did Visaro end up doing about the Milan casting issue?”
Frankie immediately groans again. “Don’t even start—”
And just like that, he’s distracted once more. I blink slowly, and when Harlan smirks at me, I know he intervened on purpose.
I just don’t understand why he’d care.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as Evander offers me his hand again, palm open and waiting patiently.
Around us, nobody comments on it. But Isaac’s expression softens noticeably as I place my fingers into Evander’s hand.
Evander helps me smoothly to my feet, his touch warm and grounding against my skin.
“Try not to bore Isaac to death whilst I’m gone,” Evander says.
Silas smiles lazily. “No promises.”
As Evander guides me away from the table, I glance back instinctively. Isaac is watching me.
Amusement flickers openly across his face, and then he winks.
Actual butterflies erupt violently through my stomach, goosebumps coating bare skin.
Oh, I’m in so much trouble.
Evander keeps hold of my hand as he leads me away from the table, his grip warm and steady around mine.
I try not to think too hard about the fact my entire body immediately relaxes into his touch or how much easier it is to breathe with his scent wrapped around me.
The further we move from the dining area, the wider the ballroom seems to get, soft music and overlapping conversations swelling around us.
Warm golden light spills from crystal chandeliers overhead, catching on champagne glasses and sequins and polished marble floors.
Towering floral arrangements spill white orchids and pale roses from enormous gold stands, and staff weave seamlessly through the crowd carrying trays of tiny desserts that probably cost more than my weekly grocery shop.
A string quartet plays somewhere nearby, softened beneath the constant hum of conversation and laughter.
It looks like someone turned a luxury campaign mood board into a real place.
I loosen my fingers slightly, instinctively trying to pull my hand free as we navigate around another cluster of people.
Evander’s grip tightens immediately, and he flashes a grin over his shoulder at me, not pausing to stop.
It’s not painful, just enough to stop me from letting go.
My pulse skips, and these annoying butterflies continue to flutter.
“I can walk,” I murmur, and his grin widens.
He doesn’t even look down at me as he guides me around a passing waiter. “You’ll get lost.”
“I know how to walk through a room,” I mutter, looking for anyone I recognise.
“Hm.”
I glance up at him suspiciously, but his expression remains calm. I shouldn’t be surprised that this scene is one he’s more than familiar with.
He’s gorgeous tonight. Well, always, but he’s especially handsome all dressed up.
His dark suit fits him obscenely well, broad shoulders stretching the expensive fabric whilst the warm ballroom lighting catches against his cufflinks every time he moves.
I try pulling my hand free again a few moments later anyway. Again, his fingers tighten automatically around mine.
“Cassidy.”
The warning in his voice sends butterflies through my stomach so violently I almost stumble in my heels.
“What?”
“You’re not escaping me in a crowd this large.”
I’m not trying to escape him, which honestly feels weird enough.
I just… need my hand so I can keep myself under control. My scent is doing enough sharing of my feelings today without Evander’s delectable scent entangling with mine.
I wouldn’t run from him.
At least, I doubt I would.
The thought feels suspicious enough that I decide not to say it aloud.
By the time we reach the edge of the dance floor, another speech has started near the stage, drawing most people’s attention towards the front of the ballroom.
Evander guides us towards one of the quieter edges of the room instead of interrupting, positioning us near one of the enormous floral displays.