12. Gideon
GIDEON
Ifind Nolan in the eastern administration lounge questioning resort staff at eight-thirty in the morning.
Which immediately pisses me off.
The young concierge he’s speaking to looks relieved the second she notices me approaching across the marble lobby.
“Mr. Carrington,” she says quickly.
Nolan turns calmly, not even remotely guilty.
Interesting.
“Leave us,” I say flatly.
The concierge disappears instantly.
The second she’s gone, I stop directly in front of him. “Why are you interrogating employees about Cassie?”
Nolan slides his hands into his pockets. “Interrogating feels dramatic.”
“You asked security for her movement logs.”
“That was security protocol.”
“No,” I say coldly. “It was curiosity.”
His face goes tight slightly at my tone.
Good.
Morning sunlight pours through the massive resort windows while tension thickens between us. Around us, executives move carefully through the lobby pretending not to notice the fact their CEO looks one sentence away from violence.
Nolan lowers his voice. “You’re making this obvious.”
My expression hardens instantly. “Careful.”
“There it is.” He exhales sharply. “That reaction right there is exactly what I’m talking about.”
I step closer.
Nolan’s one of the few people in this company who doesn’t intimidate easily, but even he goes still when I get angry enough.
“You don’t investigate her,” I say quietly. “Ever.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You’re compromised.”
The accusation lands harder because part of me knows he’s right.
Still.
“You seem confused about your position here,” I say dangerously.
“And you seem confused about how corporate boards operate.”
Silence crashes between us.
Nolan studies me a little more than five seconds before speaking carefully. “If rumors start spreading about you and Cassie, the board will destroy her.”
Ice floods straight through my chest.
Not me.
Her.
Because that’s how these people work.
A billionaire CEO involved with his employee becomes a scandal. Investors panic. Executives look for leverage. Somebody always pays the price publicly.
And it usually isn’t the powerful man.
Nolan’s voice softens slightly. “Gideon, they already think you’re distracted. You’re rearranging schedules around her. Canceling meetings. Assigning security.” He shakes his head faintly. “People notice things.”
I glance toward the elevators automatically.
Toward the floor where Cassie’s currently reviewing contracts completely unaware that half the company has started watching us.
The realization makes something vicious rise inside me.
“She is not a weakness,” I say flatly.
Nolan holds my gaze. “That’s not how the board will see it.”
After several years, I genuinely consider walking away from a billion-dollar acquisition just to keep someone safe.
And the terrifying part?
I’m not even sure I’d regret it.
Nolan catches my arm before I leave the lobby.
“Gideon.”
I turn slowly, already irritated.
He lowers his voice immediately. “I’m trying to help you.”
“No,” I say flatly. “You’re trying to manage me.”
His expression hardens slightly. “Someone has to.”
That’s the wrong thing to say.
The entire lobby feels colder as I step closer to him. Executives nearby instantly find sudden interest in their phones and coffee cups.
Smart decision.
“You will stay away from Cassie,” I say quietly.
Nolan holds my gaze carefully. “You’re threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.”
“Because I asked questions?”
“Because you made her a target.”
My voice stays calm, which somehow makes the threat worse.
Nolan exhales sharply. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re emotionally involved now.”
“Yes.”
The immediate answer clearly catches him off guard.
Good.
I straighten my cuffs slowly. “And if I find out anyone in this company is watching her, investigating her, or using her to gain leverage against me, they’re finished.”
The billionaire edge slips into my voice then. Cold. Precise. Merciless.
Nolan studies me for a long second before muttering, “Jesus Christ.”
Then he walks away looking genuinely concerned.
Honestly?
He should be.
The rest of the day is brutal.
Board meetings drag for hours while investors argue over acquisition numbers and executives quietly circle each other like predators sensing weakness. By evening, I’m exhausted enough to feel it behind my eyes.
Still, the moment I step into my private villa, some of the tension eases automatically.
Because Cassie’s here.
She’s curled barefoot on the couch wearing one of my dark sweaters with her laptop balanced across her knees. Her hair’s messy, glasses sliding slightly down her nose while she reviews contract reports.
The sight hits me hard enough to stop me cold.
Cassie looks up immediately. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
A small smile touches her mouth.
God.
I loosen my tie and drop heavily onto the couch beside her. For a while we remain quiet. The quiet feels different with her now. Comfortable.
Safe.
Then Cassie closes her laptop gently. “What happened today?”
I don’t look away from the ceiling for almost a minute before answering.
“My father destroyed this family once.”
The words slip out rougher than intended.
Cassie goes still beside me.
I laugh bitterly. “Public scandal. Affairs. Financial investigations. Every news outlet in the country dragged our name through hell for two years.”
Her expression softens immediately.
“I was twenty-six,” I continue quietly. “By the time I took over the company, everyone expected me to fail too.”
Cassie reaches for my hand slowly.
“I learned very quickly that weakness becomes entertainment for people like this,” I say.
Her fingers tighten around mine gently.
“You’re not your father, Gideon.”
The simple certainty in her voice nearly undoes me.
Because deep down, part of me has spent years terrified she’s wrong.
I don’t even realize I’ve gone quiet until Cassie shifts closer.
Not invading. Not pushing. Just… closer.
Her voice drops, soft like she’s afraid the air between us might break if she speaks too loudly. “Hey. Look at me.”
I don’t.
My hands are still curled into themselves like I’m holding something I don’t deserve to drop.
“I said look at me, Gideon.”
Something in her tone—steady, not sharp—hooks under my ribs. I lift my eyes anyway.
She doesn’t look shocked.
Doesn’t look disappointed.
That’s the part that undoes me.
Most people, when they see me like this—whatever this is—start doing math in their head. Judging. Measuring. Deciding how far to step back.
Cassie just watches me like I’m… still a person.
Not a problem. Not a warning label.
A person.
“You’re spiraling,” she says quietly.
I let out a short, humorless breath. “That’s one way to put it.”
Her mouth twitches, like she almost smiles but doesn’t want to cheapen the moment. “Okay. Then don’t spiral alone.”
That lands wrong.
In a way that feels like impact.
I swallow hard. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do,” she answers immediately.
No hesitation. No drama.
Just certainty.
I shake my head, a small, almost involuntary movement. “No. You don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t—” I stop. Because I don’t even know where that sentence was going. Because everything I try to turn into logic collapses before it becomes language.
Cassie shifts even closer now, careful, like she’s approaching something bruised.
“Gideon,” she says again, softer this time. “Whatever it is you’re carrying in your head right now… I’m not afraid of it.”
That’s what breaks me a little.
Not fear. Not disgust.
Absence of both.
My throat tightens in a way I hate immediately. I look away, like distance can fix what I’m feeling. “You should be.”
“Why?” she asks.
I almost laugh. Almost.
Because there are a thousand answers, and none of them come out clean.
Because if she really saw everything—the parts I don’t put into sentences, the choices I don’t explain, the damage I pretend I can manage—she would leave. Everyone does. Eventually.
That’s the rule.
But Cassie just waits.
Patient. Present.
And that patience feels worse than judgment would’ve.
“You don’t get it,” I murmur.
“Then tell me.”
Three words. Simple. Dangerous.
I gaze on her again, really look this time.
And something in my chest shifts—uninvited, irreversible.
Because she’s not trying to fix me.
She’s not trying to win anything.
She’s just here.
And I don’t have a clue what to do with that kind of softness without breaking it.
The words leave me quieter than I expect. “If I start talking… I can’t figure out how to stop.”
Cassie nods once, like that’s a reasonable thing. Like it’s not a confession that should scare her off.
“Then don’t stop alone,” she says.
My chest tightens again, worse this time.
I hate how much I want to believe her.
I hate even more that part of me already does.
Silence settles between us, but it’s different now. Not empty. Not tense.
Just full.
Too full.
And in that fullness, the thought slips in without permission—sharp, clear, undeniable.
I’m in trouble.
Not the kind I can solve.
Not the kind I can outrun.
The kind where Cassie searches my face as though I’m still worth staying for…
And I realize, with something dangerously close to panic?—
I’m already falling for her.