Chapter 30
AURELIA
It keeps happening.
After visits sometimes, when the boys are with Nadia and I make excuses about errands I need to run. His apartment has become familiar. The view from his bedroom windows. The way his sheets smell. How his hands feel on my skin.
We don’t talk about it. Just fall into bed and deal with reality later.
Three weeks of this and I’m starting to forget why I thought it was a bad idea.
My phone buzzes during lunch on a Thursday.
Just two words from Cassian: Come over.
I stare at the message. The boys are at their music lesson with Nadia. Julian’s at the office. I have two hours before anyone expects me anywhere.
I text back: Can’t. Too risky.
Then I’ll come there.
My pulse kicks up. Absolutely not.
Why not? No one’s home.
Julian could come back early.
Then we’ll be quick.
I delete the message thread and set my phone down.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rings. I open the door and Cassian’s standing there like he has every right to be.
“You’re insane,” I say.
“Probably.”
I pull him inside before any of the security personnel stationed outside see him standing on the front step in the middle of the day.
We make it as far as my room. He locks the door behind us and I’m already pulling his shirt over his head.
We crash together against my bedroom door, his hands under my dress, mine working his belt.
Fast and desperate because we both know this is stupid and we’re doing it anyway.
His mouth crashes into mine, hard and claiming, hands sliding straight under the hem of my dress to grip my thighs and lift.
My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, heels digging into the small of his back.
He presses me harder against the door, pinning me there with his hips while one hand yanks my panties to the side.
I feel him free himself, zipper down, just enough, and then the blunt heat of him nudging, teasing for only a second before he thrusts in deep.
The stretch steals my breath. He fills me completely, no slow build, no easing in. Just one long stroke that seats him to the hilt and makes my head thump back against the wood.
“Quiet,” he whispers against my throat, voice rough and urgent. “We have to be quiet.”
I nod, biting my lip as he starts moving, short, sharp thrusts that keep me pinned, the door rattling softly in its frame with every snap of his hips. My dress is bunched around my waist, his shirt still on, trousers barely lowered. Nothing fully removed. Just enough skin, just enough access.
His hand slips between us, fingers finding my clit with practiced accuracy, rubbing tight, fast circles that match his rhythm. Pleasure coils vicious and quick, low in my belly.
I bury my face in his neck to muffle the sounds I can’t hold back—soft gasps, broken whimpers. He smells like cedar and warmth and the faint trace of whatever cologne he wore this morning. Familiar now. Addictive.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my ear, barely audible. “You feel perfect. Every time.”
I clench around him in answer, thighs tightening, urging him deeper. He groans low, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine, and drives harder, faster, the pace turning frantic.
We both know we don’t have long.
My back arches against the door, nails scraping down his shoulders through his shirt. The angle is perfect. Deep, relentless, hitting that spot with every thrust. His fingers never stop on my clit.
I come first, sudden and sharp, biting down on his collar to stay silent. The orgasm rips through me, inner muscles pulsing hard around him in waves that leave me shaking.
He follows seconds later, one last deep thrust, hips pressed flush to mine, spilling hot inside me with a stifled groan against my neck. His body shudders, arms tightening around me like he doesn’t want to let go.
We stay like that for a handful of breaths—pinned to the door, joined, hearts racing, the faint creak of the house around us the only sound.
Then footsteps in the hallway.
I freeze.
Cassian pulls back, adjusts his clothes.
“Closet,” I whisper.
He moves into my walk-in closet. It’s massive—bigger than most people’s bedrooms—with built-in shelving and a sitting area. Plenty of space to hide.
I smooth down my dress and check my reflection. My hair’s a mess; I finger-comb it into something presentable.
A knock on my door. “Aurelia?”
Julian.
I take a breath and open the door. He’s still in his suit from the office. Tie loosened. Looking tired.
“Hey. I thought you were at work all day.”
“Finished early. Wanted to check in with you.” He glances past me into my room. “You okay? You look flushed.”
“Just got back from a run.”
It’s a terrible lie. I’m in a dress and heels. No running clothes anywhere in sight.
But Julian doesn’t call me on it. Just nods and leans against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”
My heart stops. “Of course.”
I step aside and he walks into my room. Past the rumpled bed I didn’t have time to fix. Past the closet where Cassian is hidden ten feet away.
Julian sits in the armchair by the window. Looks at me.
I stay standing. Can’t sit. Too much nervous energy.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately,” he says.
“Different how?”
“Less guarded. More present. You seem happier.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. But it makes me wonder if something’s changed.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe you’re seeing someone.”
The question hangs between us.
I could lie. Tell him I’m just adjusting to having the boys home, to not being in Ireland anymore. He’d probably believe me.
But I’m tired of lying.
“And if I am?”
His mouth curves slightly. “Then I’d say it’s about time. You’ve been locked away for six years. You deserve to have a life.”
“You’re not going to ask who?”
“I don’t need to ask. I already know.”
My stomach drops. “Julian—”
“It’s Cassian, isn’t it? You’re seeing him outside the supervised visits.”
I don’t confirm or deny. Just stand there feeling exposed.
Julian runs a hand through his hair. “I suspected after Nadia mentioned the way you two look at each other. But I wanted to hear it from you.”
“Are you angry?”
“Should I be? You’re an adult. You can make your own choices.”
“But?”
“But Cassian Rourke isn’t a regular person, Aurelia. He’s dangerous. He runs criminal operations. He’s killed people. Trust doesn’t come easy with men like him.”
“I know what he is.”
“Aurelia, you’re falling for the man who tried to kidnap your children three weeks ago.”
The words sting because they’re true.
“He’s their father,” I say.
“That doesn’t make him safe, and it most definitely doesn’t make this smart.”
“I’m being careful.”
“Are you? Because careful would be keeping things professional. Careful would be maintaining boundaries for the boys’ sake. This—” He gestures vaguely. “Whatever this is, it’s not careful.”
I don’t have an answer for that.
Julian stands. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re a grown woman. But I am telling you to be smart. Don’t let your feelings for him cloud your judgment. Don’t forget what he’s capable of when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
He walks toward the door.
Stops.
Turns back to face me.
“And Aurelia? Next time you sneak him into the house, make sure his car isn’t parked three blocks away where my security can see it.”
Then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.
I stand frozen for five seconds before Cassian emerges from the closet.
We stare at each other. He doesn’t say anything. Just straightens his shirt and leaves through my bedroom door like Julian didn’t just make it clear he knows exactly what’s happening.
I hear his footsteps on the stairs. The front door opening and closing. And then I’m alone with Julian’s warning echoing in my head and the knowledge that this can’t stay secret anymore.