3. Cassie
CASSIE
By Wednesday morning, I’m one inconvenience away from personally sinking Azure Cay into the Atlantic.
My phone rings nonstop while three separate board members email me demanding impossible changes to the executive retreat schedule.
One wants a private yacht excursion added between investor briefings.
Another refuses to stay in the ocean villas because “the humidity feels aggressive.”
A third emails me six times in twenty minutes asking whether imported sparkling water will be available in the conference suites.
I watch the screen.
Then my eyes fall shut briefly and I whisper, “Maybe prison wouldn’t be that bad.”
Delilah snorts from across my desk. “You say that like you wouldn’t immediately become the warden.”
I point at her dramatically. “You’re enabling my villain origin story.”
She grins, long braids falling over one shoulder as she steals one of the overpriced chocolates from my desk jar. “Please. Your villain era would last three business days before you started organizing everybody’s emotional healing.”
Unfortunately true.
I open another spreadsheet while my inbox continues multiplying like bacteria.
“Why,” I mutter, “are billionaires physically incapable of acting normal?”
“Money damages the brain.”
“Scientifically proven.”
Delilah laughs before her attention shifts past me suddenly.
Her grin sharpens.
Oh no.
“What?” I ask cautiously.
She leans forward slowly. “Your terrifying billionaire is staring again.”
Heat immediately crawls into my cheeks. “He is not my billionaire.”
“Mmhmm.”
I refuse to turn around.
Mostly because she’s probably lying.
Also because if Gideon actually is staring at me again, I genuinely don’t understand how to use that information anymore.
Things have felt… strange lately.
Longer looks. Unnecessary meetings. The way his voice changes sometimes when it’s just the two of us in his office.
Dangerous thoughts.
Delilah gasps softly. “Oh my God. He’s still looking.”
I whip around automatically.
And immediately regret it.
Across the executive conference room, Gideon stands near the windows discussing investor projections with two board members. Black suit. Cold expression. Hands tucked into his pockets.
But his storm-coloured eyes are absolutely locked on me.
The second I catch him staring, his gaze flicks away toward the presentation screen.
Too late.
Delilah slaps my arm excitedly. “Girl.”
“He was not staring.”
“He looked at you like he wants to ruin his entire life.”
I choke on absolutely nothing.
“That is an insane thing to say in a workplace.”
“It’s also accurate.”
I risk another glance.
Gideon says something to the executives beside him, but his attention shifts back toward me almost immediately.
Like he can’t help it.
My stomach does something deeply annoying.
Delilah watches the entire thing unfold with shameless delight. “Cassie.”
“No.”
“That man is obsessed with you.”
I laugh too quickly. “Gideon Carrington barely experiences human emotions.”
“Baby,” she says, leaning closer, “that man experiences you.”
“Delilah,” I say firmly, “you’ve officially lost your mind.”
She looks entirely unconcerned. “And yet I’m still correct.”
I ignore her and focus on the retreat spreadsheets glowing across my laptop screen, even though my concentration is already ruined.
Obsessed.
Please.
Gideon Carrington barely tolerates most human beings. The idea that he’d be obsessed with anyone—especially me—is ridiculous.
Still…
My fingers pause over the keyboard.
Because suddenly my brain decides now is the perfect time to replay every strange interaction we’ve had lately.
The way he kept me in his office longer than necessary two days ago.
The almost-smile when I tease him.
How quickly his mood changes during the call with Elias.
How his eyes keep finding me in crowded rooms.
Annoying.
Deeply, deeply annoying.
“You’re thinking about it now,” Delilah sings softly.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Unfortunately, she’s also right about that.
A shadow falls across my desk before I can argue further.
Nolan Reeve stands there holding a tablet beneath one arm, polished and charming as always. Sandy blond hair perfectly styled. Expensive navy suit. Smile straight out of a political campaign ad.
“Ladies,” he says smoothly.
Delilah immediately narrows her eyes like an aggressive cat sensing danger.
“Nolan,” I reply politely.
He glances toward the executive conference room where Gideon is still speaking with investors. “Busy week.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
His smile sharpens slightly. “You seem to be handling the acquisition preparations personally.”
“Someone has to.”
Delilah snorts into her coffee.
Nolan ignores her completely. “Gideon relies on you quite heavily, doesn’t he?”
Something about the question feels… off.
Careless on the surface. Intentional underneath.
I keep my expression light. “I’m his assistant. That’s generally how the job works.”
“Of course.” His gaze lingers on me thoughtfully. “Still, he values your opinion more than most executives.”
Delilah leans back slowly in her chair. “You fishing for insider information, Nolan?”
His smile never slips. “Just admiring competence.”
Mmhmm.
Corporate men always sound the most dangerous when they sound polite.
“Speaking of dangerous,” Delilah mutters, watching Nolan walk away. “Did you see Martin Hargrove arrived this morning?”
I glance up from my laptop. “Hargrove’s here?”
“The man never misses an opportunity to look expensive and disapproving at the same time.” She lowers her voice. “Bianca said he’s been fighting Gideon over the Azure Cay acquisition for weeks.”
That catches my attention immediately.
Martin Hargrove sits on the executive board, but unlike most of the investors orbiting Carrington International, he doesn’t throw tantrums or raise his voice. He smiles through disagreements. Calm. Polished. Patient enough to make people underestimate him.
Which honestly feels worse.
“What’s his issue with the deal?” I ask.
Delilah shrugs. “Control, probably. Men like him hate not being the smartest person in the room.”
A strange tension settles low in my stomach anyway.
Because if Martin Hargrove is personally involving himself in this acquisition, something bigger is happening behind the scenes.
Before I can respond, my email notifications explode again.
I glance down automatically and spot the updated Azure Cay expense reports attached to the newest finance thread.
Thank God. Something useful.
Nolan eventually excuses himself after another minute of vague corporate conversation, but the strange feeling he leaves behind lingers longer than it should.
Delilah watches him walk away. “I don’t trust men who smile that much.”
“I don’t trust anyone sending emails after six p.m.”
“Fair.”
I open the expense reports while she returns to her phone.
At first, everything looks normal.
Vendor payments. Transportation costs. Renovation invoices.
Then I frown.
One catering charge appears twice under different department approvals.
Another invoice is dated three days before the contract was finalized.
Weird.
I scan farther down the page.
A luxury furnishing payment is listed under hospitality operations and investor relations simultaneously.
Probably clerical errors.
Still, something about the inconsistencies prickles at behind my mind unpleasantly.
Before I can look deeper, movement catches my attention.
I glance up.
And find Gideon watching me again from across the room.
This time, he doesn’t look away first.
“You’re going, Cassie. End of discussion.”
Gideon doesn't even look up from the tablet he is currently terrorizing with his thumb. He looks every bit the icy billionaire. His dark hair is styled to perfection, jaw set like granite, and a tailored black suit that probably cost more than my college tuition.
“Gid—sir,” I correct myself quickly, catching the slip before he could smirk. “There are three other junior assistants who’d kill for the Caribbean sun. I have months of backlogged filing and a company to keep upright while the board is away.”
“I don’t want them. I want you.” His smoke-coloured gaze finally snap to mine, sharp and unreadable. “The Azure Cay acquisition is a minefield. I need my best person, not a rookie who’ll fold the second Nolan Reeve looks at them funny.”
I crossed my arms, my gold bracelets clinking—a bright, cheerful sound that felt out of place in the sterile chill of his office. “Is this about the project, or the fact that you can’t find your own lucky fountain pen without me?”
A muscle jumps in his cheek. For a second, the mask slipped, revealing the exhaustion he’d been masking for weeks. “Pack a bag, Cassie. We leave at dawn.”
As I walk out, my heart does a traitorous little somersault.
For two years, I haven't been the one person who isn't afraid of him, the one who argues back and keeps his world human.
But this retreat? A private island, tropical nights, and thirty days of constant intimacy?
It is a recipe for disaster. I've worked so hard to keep our professional lines crisp, but as I look back at him, I realize those lines aren't just blurring—they are about to catch fire.