20. Cassie #2
Roman picks up on it immediately, his eyebrows raising slightly. "I assumed we'd find something new. Together. Something that suits both of us."
"Oh." The simple answer deflates my defensiveness.
"Did you think I'd expect you to just... slot into my existing life?" He leans against the counter, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "That's not how partnership works, Cassie."
Partnership. The word catches me off guard. Not arrangement, not relationship, not even the more loaded boyfriend-girlfriend. Partnership implies equality, shared goals, mutual respect.
"We're going to need to figure out a lot of things," I say, sidestepping his question. "But right now, I need to shower and get ready for work. We have the Fairchild Institute reception tonight."
Roman checks his watch, frowning slightly. "I'd forgotten about that."
"It's okay if you need to cancel," I say quickly. "I understand if you need time to process?—"
"I'll be there," he interrupts. "Unless you'd prefer to go alone?"
"No, I—" I stop, gathering my thoughts. "I think we should stick to our original plan. Attend separately. Maintain professional boundaries in public."
"Agreed," he says, though something flickers in his expression. "At least until we've figured out how to handle the... larger announcement."
The baby. He means the baby. Our baby. The words still feel foreign, surreal, like I'm playing a part in someone else's life.
"I should go," Roman says, glancing at his phone again. "I've rescheduled my morning meetings, but I still have a board call at eleven."
"Of course." I follow him to the door, suddenly awkward. How do we say goodbye now? With everything changed and nothing yet settled?
Roman solves the dilemma by pulling me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead that feels both protective and reverent. "We'll figure this out," he murmurs against my skin. "All of it."
"Promise?" I hate how small my voice sounds.
"Promise." He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine with unflinching certainty. "I'll see you tonight. Separately, but together."
After he leaves, I lean against the closed door, one hand drifting unconsciously to my still-flat stomach.
There's nothing to feel yet, no physical evidence of the life growing inside me.
But knowing it's there changes everything—how I see myself, how I think about the future, how I view the man who just walked out my door.
The Fairchild Institute reception is in full swing by the time I arrive, the grand ballroom of the Metropolitan Museum's modern wing transformed into a showcase of fashion innovation.
As Lumière's Creative Director, my presence is expected, my attention solicited by donors and industry figures who've caught wind of our upcoming relaunch.
I navigate the crowd with practiced ease, accepting congratulations on my rapid rise at Elysian, deflecting questions about the rumors of Roman Kade's personal interest in my career. If they only knew.
I scan the room surreptitiously, looking for him despite my best intentions. He's not here yet—probably making a deliberately late entrance to ensure we're not seen arriving together.
"There's my brilliant sister," Mia's voice cuts through my thoughts as she appears at my elbow, resplendent in a vintage dress she's modified with her signature sustainable sequins. "Why do you look like you're about to face a firing squad instead of enjoying your professional triumph?"
"Just tired," I say automatically. "The launch preparations are intense."
Mia studies me with narrowed eyes. "You're a terrible liar, Cassie. Always have been. What's really going on?"
For one wild moment, I consider telling her everything—the pregnancy, Roman's surprising reaction, my swirling fears about motherhood and career. But this crowded reception is hardly the place for such revelations.
"Later," I promise. "When we're not surrounded by the entire fashion industry and their recording devices."
She accepts this with a nod, though her expression says we're not done with the subject. "Fine. But in the meantime, look alive. Camden just walked in, and he's heading this way."
My stomach drops. "What is he doing here?"
"Being obnoxious, most likely," Mia mutters. "Want me to spill wine on him? I've been practicing my 'accidental' elbow jabs."
Despite my anxiety, I laugh. "Stand down, attack dog. I can handle Camden."
But as he approaches, champagne in hand and smile firmly in place, I'm not so sure. There's something in his expression—a calculated gleam that sets my teeth on edge.
"Cassie," he greets me, as if we parted on good terms rather than with me slamming a door in his face. "You look lovely."
"Camden," I reply coolly. "I didn't realize Sullivan & Marsh had a connection to the Fairchild Institute."
"We represent several board members," he says smoothly. "But I'm here for the networking, same as everyone else."
"Of course you are," Mia interjects, her smile razor-sharp. "Networking is so important when your career depends entirely on who you know rather than what you can actually do."
Camden's expression tightens, but he ignores the barb, keeping his attention fixed on me. "I heard you're launching your own line under the Elysian umbrella. Quite an achievement for someone so... new to the executive level."
The implication in his tone is unmistakable.
"Talent has a way of rising," I say evenly. "When it's recognized by people who know what they're looking for."
"Is that what Kade recognized? Your talent?" Camden leans closer, dropping his voice. "Or was it something else entirely? The industry's buzzing about your meteoric rise in his company. Right after you started sleeping with him."
Anger flares hot and immediate. "You know nothing about my relationship with Roman, or about the work I've done to earn my position."
"Don't I?" His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I know how ambitious you've always been, Cassie. I know you'd do whatever it takes to advance your career. I just never realized sleeping with the CEO was part of your strategy."
Before I can respond, Mia steps between us, her voice low but intense. "That's rich coming from you, Camden. Didn't your firm just settle a sexual harassment claim out of court? The junior associate who claimed she was passed over for promotion after refusing your advances?"
Camden's face pales, his confident smirk faltering. "That's confidential information."
"Not anymore," Mia says sweetly. ”The industry is buzzing about your credibility. I would watch what you say. Your firm's dirty laundry is common knowledge in legal circles. Now, back away from my sister before I start sharing more details with the fashion reporters circulating this room."
For a moment, I think Camden might argue, might escalate the confrontation. Instead, he steps back, his lawyer's instinct for self-preservation kicking in.
"This isn't over, Cassie," he says quietly. "People deserve to know how you really climbed the ladder at Elysian."
"Goodbye, Camden," I say, forcing calm into my voice. "Don't approach me again."
He retreats into the crowd, leaving me shaking with a mixture of rage and something dangerously close to insecurity. Because despite knowing better, despite having earned every opportunity I've been given, part of me still hears his accusation and wonders if others will believe it too.
"You okay?" Mia asks, squeezing my arm.
"Fine," I lie, surveying the room to see who might have witnessed our exchange. "Was that true? About the harassment settlement?"
Mia nods grimly. "Every word. The guy's a predator in bespoke tailoring."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The confrontation has left me more rattled than I'd like to admit, and suddenly the room feels too warm, the crowd too close, the air too thin.
"I need some air," I murmur to Mia, already moving toward the terrace doors.
The night air is a relief against my flushed skin, the relative quiet a balm after the reception's constant chatter. I lean against the stone balustrade, closing my eyes briefly against a wave of dizziness that takes me by surprise.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
Roman's voice makes me start, my eyes flying open to find him standing a few feet away, concern evident in his expression.
"I'm not alone now," I say, attempting a smile that feels shaky even to me. "When did you arrive?"
"About ten minutes ago." He moves closer, careful to maintain a professional distance despite the privacy of the terrace. "Just in time to see your confrontation with Camden."
I wince. "You saw that?"
"Enough of it." His voice tightens with controlled anger. "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing worth repeating," I say, dismissing Camden's insinuations with a wave of my hand. "Mia handled it."
"Your sister is formidable," Roman acknowledges, the hint of a smile touching his lips. "But are you alright? You look pale."
"Just a little dizzy," I admit. "It comes and goes."
Concern flashes across his face. "Should we leave? I can have Henri bring the car around."
"No," I say quickly. "People will notice if we both disappear at the same time."
He nods, though reluctance is evident in his posture. "At least come back inside. It's too cold out here for—" He stops, caution replacing his natural instinct to protect.
"For a pregnant woman?" I supply, unable to suppress a smile at his sudden self-censorship.
"I was going to say 'for someone wearing silk,'" he counters smoothly, though his eyes betray him.
The moment stretches between us, charged with everything we can't say in this public setting, everything that's changed in the past twenty-four hours.
"I saw an obstetrician today," I say quietly, checking to ensure we're still alone. "I have an appointment next week. They'll do an ultrasound."
Roman goes very still, something raw and vulnerable flashing across his face before he masters it. "An ultrasound," he repeats. "We'll be able to see..."