Cassidy #2
His hand still hasn’t left mine, which feels entirely too noticeable now that we’re standing still. The contact settles some restless part of me I don’t want to examine.
He’s so close, the heat from his body is warming mine, and there’s an anticipatory itch on my skin as I fight the urge to get closer.
Omegas love to touch, to hug, to be close to those we care for. And whether or not I’m willing to accept Evander makes no difference to the bond. We both know it’s there now, and every day, it feels harder to ignore.
I risk another glance up at him and notice that tonight he’s not clean shaven like he normally is. There’s stubble across his jaw, a shade or two lighter than his brown hair.
He’s less sharp around the edges outside of work, not as abrupt or as extroverted. He hasn’t tried to control the conversation or me. It’s strange, and I don’t know which one is the real him.
Sure, he’s still dominant, and I still find him intimidatingly overwhelming.
But he’s calmer, more open tonight.
“How are you feeling?” he asks eventually.
The question catches me off guard slightly, and my heart immediately begins to pound against my ribs.
The back of my neck is clammy, and my skin warms with the reminder of yesterday.
Isaac must have told him.
“Fine,” I answer automatically. I brace myself for the look.
The one Harlan and Isaac both kept giving me every time I brushed my needs off.
The one that’s a combination of disbelief and frustration.
But Evander just nods, looking down at me with a fond expression. “I’m glad to hear it, little daisy.”
My eyes widen as he looks back up at the stage and doesn’t push further. His scent stays warm and steady beside me.
There was no interrogation. No push or reminder of what I did.
He believed me. Honestly, him not pushing is somehow worse.
My heart is still thudding, the palpitations making me feel weak with anxiety. My ears are ringing, and I don’t know how long I stand there waiting for him to say something.
Part of me wishes he’d say something, which makes absolutely no sense because I don’t want him to.
That he cared.
“You believe me,” I say carefully.
His mouth twitches slightly at one corner. “I didn’t say that.”
My brows draw together, and he reaches out to smooth the V shape.
“Don’t frown, or you’ll get wrinkles,” he teases, and now I’m fully gaping at him. “What’s this look for, little daisy?”
“Um, I just…” I trail off, not even sure how to answer him. His forest green eyes are practically twinkling with his amusement, and I don’t know how to react.
Who is this man, and what have they done with the real Evander?
“The silence is because you’re already waiting for an argument,” he says calmly.
Heat floods my cheeks instantly. Because… maybe I am.
I look away quickly, towards the stage, pretending sudden interest in the charity speech currently happening.
Something about mentorship placements. Creative opportunities. Scholarships.
My thoughts drift almost immediately.
Beside me, Evander shifts slightly closer as another couple passes nearby, his body brushing faintly against mine.
He lets go of my hand, and I startle, the sudden loss of both his touch and steady scent presence sending a pang of hurt through me.
I have no right to feel this way.
But then he guides me to stand in front of him, one hand wrapping around my waist, as he presses against my back.
Warmth spreads through me instantly. My head reaches his shoulders in these heels, which is insane considering they’re five inches.
Our height difference is ridiculous.
Unless he was wrapped around me in my nest…
“You’re trying to figure something out,” he says after another moment.
I blink up at him, tilting my head against his shoulder. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me?” His gaze drags slowly over my face, unreadably steady, as he smirks. “Usually.”
That look should be illegal. It’s practically torture seeing someone this confident manipulating the conversation in a way I can’t grasp.
I really need to get a grip on myself.
“I think you’re different outside work, and I’m trying to figure out who the real you is,” I admit quietly before I can stop myself.
Evander hums softly under his breath. “Work Evander is significantly less enjoyable. But then, Networking Evander is just as boring.”
A startled laugh escapes me before I can hold it back.
The sound seems to surprise him, too. For a second, he looks almost pleased.
He trails a finger down my cheek, a shiver racing up my spine. His eyes are soft, and I feel my breathing alter.
“But trust me, daisy, this Evander—this is the best one,” he murmurs.
“Which Evander is this?” I don’t mean to sound so breathless, but my body betrays me.
As it so easily does these days.
“Mating Evander.”
Applause rises across the room as the speech finally ends, and we’re pulled out of our moment.
The orchestra shifts seamlessly into something slower and warmer. Around us, couples begin moving towards the dance floor.
Evander looks down at me.
Then, without a hint of hesitation, he lifts my hand slightly between us.
“Dance with me, daisy.”
I don’t hesitate before nodding.
Evander’s expression softens with obvious satisfaction before he guides me fully onto the dance floor.
The orchestra swells around us, smooth and elegant beneath the low hum of conversation still lingering around the ballroom edges.
Couples move gracefully across the polished marble, all soft fabrics and expensive jewellery sparkling beneath the chandeliers overhead.
I become painfully aware of myself almost instantly. Of the fact I’m standing here with someone like him.
Evander Whitmore.
Successful, confident, powerful.
He’s the kind of alpha who belongs in rooms like this, and nobody doubts it for a second. Someone who already knows exactly where he fits.
And yet, he’s dancing here with me. An omega who is barely at the start of her career, who fainted in her boss’s office less than twenty-four hours ago, and spent most of dinner trying not to embarrass herself.
I don’t understand how we can be a match, how he can be happy with it, and how he can be actively trying to pursue me.
To court me.
His hand settles firmly against my waist, warm even through the silk of my dress, whilst his other keeps hold of mine.
“Relax,” he murmurs as I nearly miss the first step entirely.
Heat floods my face instantly. “I am relaxed.”
“You’re gripping my shoulder like you’re preparing for battle, little daisy.”
Mortification burns through me. I loosen my fingers immediately, nearly tripping over his feet as I do.
He rights me immediately.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, attempting to step backwards.
His brows lift slightly, pulling me closer once again. “That wasn’t permission to let go completely either, daisy.”
He lifts my hand back to his shoulder before putting his on my hip again. Despite myself, I laugh softly.
The sound seems to please him far too much.
Unfortunately, he’s an infuriatingly good dancer. Every movement feels effortless for him, smooth and controlled as he guides me easily through the slower rhythm of the orchestra.
“How long were you trained for?” I ask quietly.
His mouth twitches. “You don’t believe this is my first time?”
“You’re a show-off.”
“You wound me, little daisy.”
I roll my eyes, though it’s hard to maintain any real irritation when he’s looking at me like that.
It doesn’t make sense.
Another couple brushes slightly too close, and Evander instinctively pulls me nearer against him, his hand tightening fractionally at my waist as he manoeuvres us around them.
My breath catches embarrassingly fast, and I let my hair fall to cover my face in case anyone notices.
“Careful,” he murmurs huskily. “You’re thinking too loudly again.”
I blink up at him. “That’s not a thing.”
“For you?” His gaze drags meaningfully over my face. “It absolutely is.”
The teasing in his voice should probably annoy me more than it does.
Instead, warmth unfurls low in my stomach.
“You should let yourself relax,” he says after another moment, guiding me smoothly through another turn. “You fight yourself constantly.”
I laugh weakly, pain expanding through my chest at the attack.
“You make me sound exhausting.”
His expression shifts slightly. No longer playful, but focused, intense.
My scent perfumes around us, and he inhales deeply. My flush might be hidden under the makeup, but I can feel the heat practically burning.
“You’re not exhausting, daisy,” he says firmly, “but you are exhausted.”
I try to duck my head, but he lifts me up in a lift, causing a gasp to escape from my throat.
He chuckles as he spins around before lowering me to the floor carefully.
“You’re beautiful tonight. So fucking pretty.” He steps back, holding my hands now, as the song changes into the next, and it’s a different style.
“You don’t need—” I start.
“I get to compliment my mate if I want to,” he says sharply, and I blink in surprise.
This is the first time all night he’s spoken to me like that again. Harshly, possessive.
And yet, the sincerity behind the words catches me completely off guard.
My chest tightens painfully.
Because I want to believe him.
I really do.
But I can’t. I haven’t done anything to earn this man, not yet. He’ll be sick of me as soon as I say yes, and that’s no life for either of us.
Evander notices the shift in my mood immediately.
Of course, he does.
“I’m a lucky man to have you on my arm,” he says quietly. “I’m glad you’re here tonight, even if I do wish you were at home resting instead.”
Something about how genuine he sounds makes my chest hurt. I glance away quickly before he can see how much he affects me.
“I was going to spend most of the day resting,” I say rather than acknowledge the rest of it.
“Was?” he asks.
I sigh and shrug. “You know how it is. I’m doing better, I really am.”
His brows draw together slightly, but once again, he doesn’t push. He just nods and spins me around once more.
I can’t focus on anyone else in the room as I move, and the moment we’re facing each other again, they fade from my view completely.
I ask the only thing I can.