6. Gideon
GIDEON
By noon, I’m one stupid question away from losing my mind.
“Carrington International projects a seventeen percent increase in hospitality revenue over three years,” an investor says carefully, adjusting his glasses. “But what safeguards are in place if tourism projections underperform?”
Normally, I’d dismantle this conversation in under thirty seconds.
Today, Cassie keeps distracting me.
She sits near the far end of the conference table typing rapidly on her laptop while executives stumble through presentations around us. Her dark curls are pinned into a sleek twist, but loose strands keep falling around her face every time she leans forward.
And every damn time, I notice.
“Mr. Carrington?”
I blink hard. “The safeguards are already outlined on page forty-two.”
The investor quickly flips pages.
Across the table, Cassie glances up briefly. Amusement flickers in her sunlit brown eyes before she lowers them again.
She knows I wasn’t paying attention.
Christ.
The meeting drags another hour while tropical sunlight pours through the massive glass walls overlooking the ocean. It hasn’t changed since we arrived—same blinding brightness, same still ocean, the kind of perfect weather that makes everything feel temporarily stable.
Executives sweat through their expensive suits while I sit there pretending I’m not replaying yesterday over and over again.
Her wrist in my hand.
The catch in her breathing.
I wanted him to explain himself because part of me wanted his jealousy to mean something.
I shouldn’t know that, but somehow I do.
“Five-minute break,” I say abruptly, standing before anyone can ask another pointless question.
Executives scatter immediately.
Cassie closes her laptop and rises too, but I deliberately fixing my gaze projection screens instead of her.
Coward.
The second she disappears through the conference doors, Nolan Reeve steps beside me with the polished smile I’ve distrusted since the day we met.
“You’re distracted lately.”
“I’m surrounded by incompetence. Naturally.”
Nolan chuckles softly. “I don’t think incompetence is the distraction.”
I finally look at him.
His expression stays casual, but there’s calculation underneath it. Always calculation.
“Be careful, Gideon.”
My voice turns cold instantly. “Careful of what?”
“People notice things.” He adjusts his cufflinks lazily. “The way your attention follows Cassie around the room. Rearranging schedules to keep her nearby. Dragging her into meetings she doesn’t actually need to attend.”
My gaze finds him and stays without speaking.
Because if I do speak right now, it’ll probably involve violence.
Nolan sighs like he’s discussing the weather. “You built this company on discipline. Executives respect you because you never let emotions interfere with business.”
“And?”
“And assistants sleeping their way into influence creates ugly conversations.”
Rage detonates so fast it almost blinds me.
I step toward him slowly enough to make his confidence crack for half a second.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Nolan lifts both hands slightly. “Relax. I’m simply warning you before the board starts asking questions.”
Cassie walks back into the room before I can respond.
The second she appears, sunlight catching against gold jewelry at her throat, my attention shifts automatically.
Nolan notices.
That’s the problem.
Cassie pauses when she senses the tension. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” I say immediately.
Too immediately.
Her brows pull together slightly.
And Nolan’s knowing smile makes me want to throw him through the nearest window.
Nolan’s warning should irritate me.
Instead, it follows me through the entire afternoon like a damn shadow.
People notice things.
I ignore the thought while executives present updated marketing strategies inside Azure Cay’s main conference hall. Investors sit around polished glass tables pretending to care about branding projections while ocean waves crash beyond the windows.
I should be focused.
Instead, I keep looking at Cassie.
She stands near the presentation screen flipping through financial reports while quietly correcting errors before anyone else catches them. Calm. Sharp. Completely composed beneath pressure while half the executives around her crumble over basic questioning.
God, she’s good at this.
“Projected occupancy rates for quarter three?—”
The presenter keeps talking, but I barely hear him.
Cassie tucks a loose curl behind her ear while reviewing documents, and my attention catches there immediately. Then her gaze lifts unexpectedly and collides with mine across the room.
Caught.
Her brows rise slightly like she knows exactly what I’ve been doing.
I can’t hold her gaze without giving something away, so I let it go.
Annoying.
By the time the meetings finally end, my patience is hanging by a thread. Two investors changed review timelines, resort projections are suddenly inconsistent, and Dean somehow submitted outdated renovation numbers to the finance team.
Idiots.
I stay behind in the private office overlooking the marina long after midnight trying to fix the disaster myself.
The room glows softly from laptop screens and scattered paperwork while rain taps steadily against the windows. My tie hangs loose around my neck, and a headache pulses behind my eyes hard enough to make me irritable.
A quiet knock interrupts my concentration.
Before I answer, Cassie walks in carrying coffee.
“You’re still awake,” she says softly.
“You’re observant.”
She rolls her eyes and sets the cup beside me. “Delilah texted me that you were probably terrorizing spreadsheets alone.”
A reluctant huff of amusement leaves me.
Cassie notices immediately. “There it is again.”
“What?”
“That almost-smile you keep pretending doesn’t exist.”
I lean back slowly, studying her. “You shouldn’t be here this late.”
“And yet here I am.” She slides into the chair beside mine. “Show me the projections.”
For the next hour, we work in near silence broken only by low conversation and keyboard clicks. Cassie catches discrepancies twice as fast as the finance department did, muttering under her breath every time another error appears.
“At this point,” she says, “I’m convinced half your executives share one collective brain cell.”
“I’ve suspected that for years.”
She laughs quietly, and the sound settles somewhere dangerous inside my chest.
Rain pounds harder outside while she leans closer to my laptop screen, her shoulder brushing mine accidentally.
Neither of us moves away.
“You’re exhausted,” she murmurs after a while.
“I’m fine.”
“Gideon.” Her voice softens. “You’re rubbing your temples like you want to physically fight the projections.”
I don’t answer.
Cassie watches me carefully before reaching toward me slowly enough that I could stop her if I wanted.
Her fingers settle against my back gently.
Every thought in my head disappears instantly.
“There,” she says quietly while her thumb brushes tense muscle beneath my collar. “Better?”
No woman has touched me this gently in years.
Maybe ever.
I should pull away.
Instead, I sit completely still, staring at her like losing control might finally become inevitable.
Cassie’s hands should not feel this good on me.
That’s the first coherent thought I manage while her fingers work slowly against the tension locked across my shoulders.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath.
She smiles softly behind me. “That bad?”
“You have no idea.”
The resort office is quiet except for rain hammering against the windows and the faint hum of air conditioning. Midnight shadows stretch across the desk while financial projections glow forgotten on the laptop screen in front of us.
I can’t focus on numbers anymore.
Not when Cassie is standing this close.
Her thumbs press carefully into the tight muscle near my neck again, and a rough sound almost leaves my throat before I stop it.
“That’s impressive,” she says lightly. “I think your shoulders are basically concrete.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“No,” she murmurs. “I think constantly carrying the entire world around does that.”
Something in my chest tightens painfully.
Nobody talks to me like this.
Nobody notices things they shouldn’t.
I turn slightly in the chair before I can catch myself, and suddenly she’s right there between my knees.
Too close.
Cassie stills immediately.
The air changes.
Her hands remain lightly against my shoulders while we stare at each other in complete silence. Rain crashes harder outside, but inside the office everything feels suspended.
Dangerously suspended.
My eyes drop to her mouth automatically.
Full lips. Soft pink gloss mostly faded after hours of work. Near enough for me to practically remember what they’d feel like against mine without ever touching them.
Christ.
Cassie’s breathing catches softly.
That tiny sound nearly destroys my self-control completely.
“Gideon,” she whispers.
Not boss.
Not Mr. Carrington.
Gideon.
My hand lifts before I consciously decide to move, fingers brushing one of her curls where it falls loose beside her face.
She leans into the touch slightly.
That almost ends me.
Every rational thought disappears under the crushing need to pull her closer and kiss her until neither of us remembers why this is a terrible idea.
I lean forward instinctively.
Cassie doesn’t move away.
Her eyes flick briefly to my mouth.
Fuck.
I stop myself so abruptly it feels violent.
The chair scrapes harshly against the floor as I stand and put distance between us immediately.
Cassie blinks, stunned.
I drag my hair roughly, breathing harder than I should be.
“This can’t happen.”
The hurt that flashes across her face makes me hate myself instantly.
“Right,” she says quietly.
I force my voice colder than necessary because warmth would ruin us both.
“Go back to your room, Cassie.”
She stares at me another second before grabbing her things silently.
The second the door closes behind her, I brace both hands against the desk and realize I came within inches of losing control completely.