30. Gideon
GIDEON
Iknow something’s wrong the second Bianca walks into my office without knocking.
Bianca never rushes.
Today she shuts the door behind her hard enough to rattle glass.
My stomach drops instantly.
“What happened?”
Her expression stays cool, but I know her too well now. She’s furious.
“Several entertainment outlets received anonymous leaks this morning,” she says.
“Internal details about your relationship with Cassie. Travel records. Private villa accommodations during the original retreat. Apparently one of Nolan’s remaining loyalists kept copies before legal seized everything. ”
Cold fury slides straight down my spine.
“No names attached yet,” Bianca continues carefully, “but reporters are already connecting timelines.”
Every muscle in my body locks.
Not again.
Not Cassie.
I’m already reaching for my phone before Bianca finishes speaking. “Cancel press access to the gala.”
She blinks once. “Gideon?—”
“Now.”
My voice cuts through the room like broken glass.
Bianca folds her arms. “Shutting down media entirely hours before reopening will create worse headlines.”
“I don’t care.”
And I don’t.
Because all I can see is Cassie walking out of that investor gala months ago while cameras flashed in her face like weapons.
Humiliated.
Alone.
Destroyed because I hesitated.
Never again.
I start firing off messages to security before Bianca grabs the edge of my desk sharply. “Think.”
“I am thinking.”
“No,” she says evenly. “You’re panicking.”
The word hits hard because it’s true.
I shove a hand through my hair and pace toward the balcony windows overlooking the resort. Staff move below us preparing for tonight’s reopening, completely unaware that one leak could turn everything vicious again.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches.
“She finally feels safe here again,” I mutter. “I won’t let them turn her into spectacle.”
Bianca’s voice softens slightly. “Then ask what Cassie wants before deciding for her.”
That lands worse than the panic.
Because months ago, I would’ve locked this place down without hesitation and called it protection.
Control disguised as love.
Jesus Christ.
I stare out at the ocean, breathing once, hard. Then twice.
The office door opens behind me before I can open my mouth.
Cassie walks in carrying garment bags and immediately pauses. Her olive-toned eyes flick between Bianca and me.
“What happened?”
I should lie.
I almost do.
Old instincts claw up immediately—handle it quietly, shield her, bury the problem before it reaches her.
But I’m so damn tired of fear turning me into someone she has to survive.
So I look directly at her and tell the truth.
“The press got details about us,” I say quietly. “And my first instinct was to burn the entire gala down before they could hurt you again.”
Cassie studies me silently for one long second.
Then she walks straight toward me without fear at all.
Cassie stops directly ahead of me, eyes steady.
“No,” she says simply.
I blink once. “No?”
“No, you are not shutting down the gala because people can’t mind their damn business.”
“Cassie—”
She points at me immediately. “Don’t CEO-growl at me right now. It’s annoying.”
Bianca coughs suspiciously hard into her hand to hide a laugh.
I drag a hand down my face. “The press is looking for blood.”
“They always are.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Her voice softens slightly. “Gideon, I already let these people make me feel small once. I’m not doing it again.”
Christ.
That quiet certainty wrecks me worse than panic ever could.
She steps closer and fixes the front of my jacket absently, like calming furious billionaires is somehow normal behavior now. “We don’t hide anymore, remember?”
I stare at her.
At the woman who walked back into fire without flinching.
Then I exhale slowly. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“You’re still doing it anyway.”
A tiny smile touches her mouth. “Also yes.”
Bianca looks between us. “I’m going to go threaten the media team preemptively.”
“Excellent idea,” I mutter.
Hours later, the reopening gala glows across Azure Cay like something unreal.
Music drifts through the marina ballroom. Crystal lights shimmer against ocean water outside. Investors, celebrities, and executives crowd the resort in obscene amounts of designer clothing.
And every camera in the room turns the second Cassie enters beside me.
Jesus Christ.
Gold silk curves against her skin like it was invented specifically to ruin my self-control. Her curls fall over one bare shoulder, hazel eyes calm despite the flashing cameras immediately aiming at her.
At us.
A reporter pushes forward first. “Ms. Valeen, did your relationship with Gideon Carrington influence your promotion?”
Another voice cuts in instantly. “Were you involved with him while serving as his assistant?”
Then the ugliest one.
“Did sleeping with your billionaire boss help your career?”
Rage detonates through me so fast my vision nearly whites out.
Cassie touches my wrist once.
Grounding.
Not controlling.
Just there.
She steps slightly forward before I can verbally destroy half the press line.
“You know what’s interesting?” she says calmly.
The reporters quiet immediately.
“When powerful men succeed, people call them brilliant. Strategic. Visionary.” Her expression sharpens. “But when women succeed beside powerful men, suddenly everyone assumes we slept our way into competence.”
The silence turns razor sharp.
Cassie continues smoothly, shoulders straight. “I spent years helping run Carrington International before any of you cared who I was dating. I uncovered the Azure Cay fraud. I helped save this company while people twice my age were busy protecting corruption.”
Several cameras lower slightly.
Good.
She glances back at me briefly before facing the reporters again. “So if your first instinct is reducing accomplished women to scandals instead of acknowledging their work, maybe that says more about you than me.”
Nobody speaks.
Because she just dismantled the entire room without raising her voice once.
And standing beside her, watching everyone finally see what I’ve known for years?—
I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life.
The silence lasts exactly three seconds.
Then somebody starts clapping.
Not polite applause.
Real applause.
Sharp. Loud. Spreading through the ballroom fast enough to feel almost violent.
I turn slightly and see resort staff clapping first. Then investors. Then even a few reporters lower their cameras long enough to join in.
Cassie blinks like she wasn’t expecting it.
Neither was I.
A reporter near the front clears his throat awkwardly. “Ms. Valeen, do you believe the backlash surrounding your relationship reflects broader issues for women in executive leadership?”
Cassie glances at me briefly.
Old version of me would’ve stepped in immediately. Controlled the room. Redirected the narrative before it became unpredictable.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am beside her.
Not in front.
Beside.
Because she doesn’t need saving from conversations she’s fully capable of dominating herself.
“Yes,” Cassie says evenly. “Women are constantly expected to prove they earned positions men are automatically trusted to hold. Especially in corporate spaces.”
Another reporter nods slowly. “Fair point.”
Fair point.
Jesus Christ.
Six months ago these people were ready to tear her apart publicly.
Now they’re listening.
Actually listening.
Cassie continues answering questions with calm confidence while I watch the room shift around her in real time. The tension dissolves. Curiosity replaces cruelty. Respect replaces gossip.
And every second of it makes my chest feel too tight.
Delilah suddenly appears beside me holding champagne. “Your face is terrifyingly emotional right now.”
“Go away.”
“No.” She grins wickedly. “You look like a proud husband at a debate tournament.”
“I’m going to fire you for psychological harassment.”
“You already tried that once.”
Unfortunately true.
Across the ballroom, Cassie laughs softly at something another reporter says. The sound carries through the room easily now that nobody’s trying to humiliate her anymore.
God.
I don’t think people understand what she does to spaces.
To me.
She turns pressure into calm. Turns hostility into conversation. Makes people feel seen while completely dismantling them intellectually.
Beautiful and terrifying combination.
Bianca walks past us checking her phone. After so long tonight, she looks genuinely pleased.
“Media sentiment’s already shifting,” she says. “The livestream comments are overwhelmingly supportive.”
Delilah gasps dramatically. “Corporate feminism and emotional growth? We’re basically inspirational now.”
I ignore her completely.
Because Cassie’s looking at me again from across the ballroom.
And this time there’s no fear in her expression.
No uncertainty.
Just warmth.
Trust.
The kind I almost destroyed because I thought controlling everything was safer than honesty.
She excuses herself from the reporters and walks back toward me slowly.
The crowd parts for her naturally.
Like they finally understand exactly who she is.
My hand settles against her waist the second she reaches me.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
I look at her, smiling despite myself.
“Yeah,” I admit.
And for once, I actually mean it.