Chapter 25
The soft, repetitive whirr of the printer spitting out ink-stained pages somehow manages to keep Cassidy's heart from spiking every second — even two hours after she watched Diane step off the elevator and walk down the hall toward her office.
There's nothing left of the woman who woke up in her arms yesterday morning.
No dark circles under her eyes, not a single hair out of place.
The woman who crossed the third floor in an immaculate ivory-white suit and matching heels is the same one Cassidy met on her first day as an intern at Whitestone — chin lifted, spine straight, with absolutely no need to look anywhere but straight ahead.
"Do you have it yet?" Cassidy startles, and the stack of documents in her hand crashes to the floor. Pages slide everywhere, even under the printer cabinet. "Sorry, Cass."
Tanya, dressed to impress today in a black shirt covered in flamingos wearing sunglasses, crouches down and starts gathering the mess she's partly responsible for.
"I've been more on edge today than I've been in weeks," the brunette whines as she stands up with a handful of pages. "Carter's back this morning, and apparently more ready to go to war than ever."
Cassidy's breath catches. Is this good news or bad news?
Impossible to tell. Yesterday she'd rushed out of Diane's place so she could swing by her own apartment, change, and make it into the office on time.
They hadn't had much of a chance to talk — in fact, they hadn't said anything at all, just muffled moans pulled from their throats during a quick round of sex that left both of them wanting more.
The problem is that Cassidy has no idea where things stand between them now: the last time she checked — three months ago — Diane Carter had said there was nothing between them but skin, that Cassidy had misread everything, and she'd wiped out every last bit of hope Cassidy had of starting something real with her.
Cassidy had moved on, seen a few girls, nothing too serious, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't missed that woman with the ice-cold eyes — fierce at Whitestone, soft as a lamb between her fingers.
Then they find each other again, and they hold each other, and they kiss, and they say things out loud they'd never said before: I'm scared…
Don't go… We're the ones who make this magic — and all of it floats in some unknown limbo that is, without question, giving Cassidy anxiety she can barely keep under control.
"That's what I heard," Cassidy says, just to say something. "She wants to see progress on the latest proposals, right?"
Tanya sighs and brushes a curl out of her eyes.
"Yeah, but I'm sure there'll be things she hates." She lowers her voice, glances both ways, and leans in. "Clara gave Adam a few assignments, and Diane despises him for a reason that's completely beyond anyone's understanding."
Cassidy forces herself not to smile. Diane's jealousy is almost tangible sometimes.
"I think she hates all of us equally," Cassidy offers, as if it were a universal truth.
Tanya shakes her head, and her curls bounce.
"She's a textbook bitch, we all know that, but the real loathing she saves for people who've actually done something to hurt her." She shrugs. "Adam Foster won't even look her in the eye. Nobody knows what he did to end up with the top prize."
Just then, Clara comes out of one of the conference rooms with her phone pressed to her ear and pushes into her office, disappearing inside. Cassidy sees her opening, because if she stays stuck in this anxious spiral any longer, her body is going to give out on her.
"Lunch later?" The question gets swallowed by the air, because before Tanya can even answer, Cassidy is already striding down the hall.
When the marketing director waves her in, Cassidy doesn't waste a second. She launches the question before she's even reached the desk.
"Do you know if Diane has the results?"
Clara takes off her glasses, sets them aside, and looks at her steadily.
"She does." She raises a hand when Cassidy opens her mouth. "And I'm telling you right now, it's not my place to share that information. If you want to know, talk to her."
Cassidy bites the inside of her cheek hard, and for a moment she wants to grab her boss by the shoulders and shake her. She doesn't. She'd like to keep her job and stay out of jail.
"She's in her office," Clara says, putting her glasses back on. "In twenty minutes we have a meeting, and after that the day is going to be hell."
Cassidy barely manages a "thanks" before she spins around and walks out at a near-jog. When she knocks on Diane's door — three times, the knock that's become hers — she hears voices inside that cut off abruptly. The silence stretches, and then:
"Come in." Flat. Zero warmth.
Tatiana is sitting across from Diane, taking notes on her iPad. The Cobra's pale blue eyes land on Cassidy's face with something close to physical force.
"I want everything done by this week, and I want the report on Friday," Diane says without looking away from Cassidy. "Collins. What do you need?"
Fortunately for everyone, Tatiana reads the room perfectly. She slides out of her chair and slips out of the office like a ghost.
Cassidy holds still until she hears the door click shut behind her. She moves slowly and stops right next to Diane.
"How are you?" The question comes out on its own, because it's the first thing she actually wants to know.
"Fine." Diane shifts in her chair, the discomfort of the moment plain in her posture.
"Do you have the—" The question dies when Diane gives a single nod.
"It's benign," she confirms, her voice steady and controlled. Nothing like the tormented whispers of two nights ago. "I need to keep an eye on it — my doctor will check in every six months, but for now, there's nothing to worry about."
The air leaves Cassidy's body like a balloon deflating after a pin prick. She feels the knot in her chest start to loosen, and a wave of relief wraps around her.
"God." She bends forward like she just crossed a finish line. "I'm so glad. I really am."
Diane clenches her jaw hard enough to crack a tooth.
Cassidy's nearness is a powerful thing, and it makes her walls shake and her armor fracture.
Her throat tightens when she watches her lean back against the edge of the desk — something she's done a dozen times before, something that's become its own kind of familiar between them.
Cassidy reaches out and traces her face in that particular way of hers, fingertip sliding along the three moles on her left cheek.
"I was scared," she says softly, finger still moving, "but I never let myself think anything other than this: that you were fine, and it was just a scare."
Every part of Diane wants to press her face into Cassidy's hand, let her cup her cheek, kiss her lips, feel her arms wrap around her body.
She pulls back, away from the touch. Cassidy's hand hangs in the air.
"Is there anything else you need?" Diane feels like some second self is pressing a gun to the back of her skull, forcing the words out. "Because if not, I have a lot of work to get through right now."
Cassidy doesn't move. She just waits for her heart and her brain to come together, make sense of what's happening, and explain it to her calmly. But Diane doesn't give her the time. Of course she doesn't.
"Nothing has changed between us. Everything is the same as it was.
" The head of business development straightens an already-perfect cuff on her white shirt, and just when Cassidy thinks she can't be any more of a coldhearted bitch, those blue eyes lift and cut right through her. "Close the door on your way out."
Cassidy stands up and pauses for a moment to look at her — a moment Diane absolutely does not deserve — then walks out without another word, but with the firm, unshakeable promise to herself that Diane Carter is done, for good, once and for all.