Cassidy #2
This is fine.
It’s absolutely fine, Cassie.
I’m only standing in our executive car park, tucked against Evander’s side, while Isaac carries my things, and the CEO walks over after watching Evander steal another executive’s space.
A completely normal Monday morning that won’t end with me being fired or embarrassing my cousin.
Sterling reaches for me as soon as he’s close enough, but Evander’s arm tightens around my waist, drawing me more securely against him.
A low pulse of possessiveness presses through the bond.
“She’s my cousin,” Sterling says darkly.
Evander hums lightly. “I’m aware.”
It doesn’t make him loosen his hold, though.
I look to Isaac for help, but he only shifts my bag higher on his narrow shoulder and gives me a small, knowing smile.
Apparently, I’m on my own.
“You’re uglier than chopped liver, for sure,” Sterling says brightly. He reaches for me again, his eyes narrowing playfully when Evander shifts me farther out of range. “Now unhand my cousin, you—”
“Enough posturing, boys,” Paxton says firmly. He doesn’t take his hand from his pocket or straighten from his relaxed stance, but both men stop as if this is a normal command from him.
My CEO’s attention shifts to me, and his expression softens into a warm smile. “Nice to see you again, Cassidy.”
I try to return it, but it’s definitely more of a grimace. “Yes, you, too, sir.”
“Sir?” Paxton echoes.
Oh, no.
I don’t know who laughs more—Evander or Sterling. Heat rushes to my face. I resist the urge to hide behind Evander, mostly because I’m already half concealed against his side and that would only prove everyone’s point.
Assholes.
Paxton shakes his head, amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. “We’re family. You really don’t need to call me sir.”
Family. Right.
Sterling smirks at Evander. “I bet that your sister likes to—”
“Don’t you dare,” Evander snaps.
Anger flares through the bond so sharply that I tense. It burns hot for barely a second before amusement rushes in behind it, swallowing the reaction almost as quickly as it came.
Evander’s eyes narrow. “Then again, maybe your cousin—”
Wait, me?
“Do not,” Isaac says. Two quiet words is all it takes for the wind to be yanked from his sails.
I’m a little lost, looking between the four of them as I try to make sense of whatever this is.
Sterling appears personally wounded by the interruption, and Evander is glaring at his best friend like he’s considering replacing him.
Isaac looks entirely unbothered by any of it.
“I hate to interrupt the fun, but we’ve got to head off, Sterling,” Paxton says, glancing at his watch.
“I just bet you do,” Evander says with another smirk. “How’s Del?”
“Dellan,” Paxton growls, putting emphasis on the second half of his son’s name. His jaw tightens, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth that makes the threat feel less convincing. “I swear, you’re begging for your sister to kill you.”
Evander only grins wider.
Sterling’s attention shifts towards me, and some of the exaggerated offence leaves his expression.
My feet carry me away from Evander before I’ve fully thought about it, and I let Sterling wrap me in a hug.
“You okay, CeCe?” Sterling whispers against my ear.
The teasing has disappeared from his voice. There’s only concern now, quiet enough that the others can pretend not to hear it.
I nod against his shoulder, inhaling the clean blend of green tea and mint. The familiar scent settles over me, and my glands stop aching quite so much beneath my collar.
“I am.”
Sterling presses a kiss to my hair. “Good. You deserve to be happy, Baby Cuz.”
I hold onto the back of his jacket for one heartbeat longer before I let go.
“Thank you.”
He squeezes me tight before stepping back. I barely have time to straighten before Evander’s arm hooks around my waist and pulls me firmly against his side once more.
A low growl vibrates through his chest as he glares at Sterling.
“Come on, daisy, let’s escape from the riffraff,” Evander says, winking at me.
My breathing falters, but the four men just laugh, and we part ways. Sterling calls another insult over his shoulder, whilst Paxton steers him to their car.
I watch them leave, still trying to work out how all those threats somehow meant they liked each other.
Isaac presses the button for the lift, and we wait beneath the quiet electronic hum of the executive lobby. The brief silence gives my thoughts enough room to turn against me.
I try not to think about how incriminating this looks. Neither Sterling nor Paxton seemed judgemental of us being together.
It’s clearly not an issue.
The lift doors slide open, and Evander guides me inside with his palm warm against my back.
I follow, still nervous, but I don’t step away from them.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I watch the numbers climb above the doors, trying to focus on that instead of the people who might be waiting when they open.
Floor two.
Three.
Four.
My stomach tightens as we near my floor. It’s ridiculous. I’ve walked onto this floor hundreds of times.
Just never after spending the weekend with my mates, covered in their scents, wearing a brand new mating mark.
The lift slows. Evander’s amusement fades through the bond, replaced by concern.
He knows.
Of course, he knows.
The doors open onto my floor, spilling bright office light into the dimmer lift, and I take one step forward before Evander’s fingers curl gently around my wrist, his thumb brushing against my gland.
“Have a good day, daisy.”
I turn, and he bends to kiss me. I whimper into his kiss, and he pulls back before I can embarrass myself further.
“I love you,” he says. “Have a good day.”
“Love you, too.”
Isaac hands me my bag, and then my laptop, before I rise on my tiptoes to give him a kiss, too.
It’s clear my beta wasn’t expecting it, but it warms me when he immediately responds.
“See you later,” Isaac murmurs. “I’ll bring you lunch.”
“You don’t—thank you,” I correct myself mid-sentence, and he grins. “I love you, Isa.”
His face lights up. “Love you, too, shortcake.”
I step out of the lift, not turning back when the doors begin to close behind me with a soft chime, and make my way into the department properly.
The bullpen is a little busy, keyboards clicking beneath the low murmur of conversations, but nobody seems to give me more than a passing look.
Well, except for one person.
Gemma stands on the opposite side of the room beside the sample shelves, watching me with an expression I can’t decipher but makes me feel uncomfortable.
Her arms are folded tightly over her chest, her mouth twisted into something sour. Her gaze flicks from me to the closed lift doors, then drops pointedly to my clothes.
My pulse stutters, and my scent sharpens. I don’t know what the problem is, but it’s enough to unsettle me anyway.
I straighten my shoulders, even though every instinct tells me to make myself smaller.
“Morning,” I say, giving her a half wave.
Gemma doesn’t respond. She only looks away, her scent unreadable, as if I’m not worth the effort.
The silence follows me as I walk past her. It’s worse than an accusation because it leaves space for my brain to invent a hundred of them.
Keep walking, Cassie. You’ve done nothing wrong.
Evander’s contentment still rests beneath my ribs, steady and certain. I hold onto it as I pass Harlan’s empty office and make my way down the corridor to my own.
Maybe things weren’t ever going to be as bad as my brain insisted they would be.
By half past eleven, the entire Aurelion campaign has descended into controlled chaos. Bright sunlight pours through the meeting room windows, catching on scattered jewellery and glossy campaign prints.
Mood boards cover every available surface. Samples are scattered across the meeting table, someone’s abandoned three coffees in the kitchen, and Harlan has already sworn loudly enough that HR would probably have a heart attack if they wandered through.
Business as usual on this bright Monday morning.
Even if it feels a little strange to not be the one facing Harlan’s wrath.
“She’s fucking what?” Harlan demands.
Hallie sighs from the head of the table, shoulders slumped beneath her dark blazer as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Signed with Visaro at some point, and the news went live yesterday. She’s the face of their new launch.”
Silence settles over the room. I look down at the campaign board pinned across the wall where Leonie, one of our lead models, is at the centre.
She’s been a big part of the Aurelion shoots, and she was one of the more recognisable faces.
My stomach sinks as Harlan lets out another curse. The other senior stylists avoid looking at him, pretending to be busy with their work.
Orion doesn’t back down, though. He leans against the edge of the table, broad shoulders relaxed beneath a pale, perfectly fitted shirt. “What do you want me to do, Mercer? Drive over there and drag her back?”
Harlan flips him off, his shirtsleeves shoved to his elbows and his veins standing out along his wrist. “Don’t be an idiot. Who have you got for replacement?”
Orion passes a dossier to Harlan, an expensive watch slipping from beneath his cuff as he reaches across the table. Harlan barely glances at it before tossing it my way.
Persephone Hollis.
I flip to the first page, and my jaw drops at the absolute gorgeous woman in front of me.
She’s stunning.
Rich chestnut hair falls in glossy waves around a porcelain face with impossibly symmetrical features, while warm hazel eyes—somewhere between amber and green—stare back at me with a quiet, almost wistful softness.
She’s tall for an omega, all long legs, elegant posture, and understated curves, carrying herself with the kind of unconscious grace that makes every photograph feel like it belongs on the cover of a magazine.
I can’t imagine a camera ever taking a bad picture of her.
There’s something in her eyes that draws me in.
“She’s beautiful,” I say softly, and Harlan gives me a stern look.
Oops.
But he picks up his pen and scrawls so are you on it before turning back to Orion.