Chapter 4 #2
His head snapped toward me. “What?” He pushed away from the window frame, whatever composure he’d been clinging to finally cracking. “Why would you even say that? We just cleared this up. I have never, ever laid a hand on you, Alessia.”
I gave him a skeptical once-over before looking back at Felicity. “That’s exactly what a wife beater would say.”
His jaw dropped, his expression twisting into a mixture of shock and sheer offense. “I—” He faltered, seemingly unable to find the right words. “I am not a wife beater.”
“How would I know?” I demanded, throwing up my hands. “I have amnesia. For all I know, you could be lying.”
Felicity immediately wedged herself between us, throwing her hands up like a referee who had just been called in to stop a fight before it reached the second round.
“Okayyy. Can we all just breathe for a second?” Her gaze moved from my stubborn glare to his tense posture before returning to me. “Sia, I just need to run home and feed my cat. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“You have a cat?” I latched onto the first remotely normal subject she had given me, grateful for the distraction.
A genuine smile softened her face. “Yeah. I adopted him last year. Well, Mr. Fitzherbert adopted me. He just appeared in my apartment one day and decided he lived there.”
I blinked. “Don’t you live on the fifth floor?”
“Yup.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Still haven’t figured out how he managed that one. There are a lot of unanswered questions in that cat’s life.”
Despite everything happening around me, I found myself smiling.
“Anyway, I’ll be back soon.” She pointed at both of us, her expression turning stern. “Behave.”
Before either of us could object, she grabbed her bag and slipped out.
The moment the door closed behind her, the room fell into an awkward silence, save for the steady beeping of the monitor beside me.
I stared at the ceiling.
Then the wall.
Then the blanket.
Anywhere but him.
Unfortunately, my eyes betrayed me. I glanced in his direction, only to find him back in his earlier position by the window, one shoulder resting against the frame, his arms folded across his chest, his attention fixed entirely on me.
I glanced away.
A few seconds passed.
Another glance.
Still staring.
I shifted beneath the blankets, increasingly irritated by the fact that he seemed perfectly content to stand there and watch me exist.
What was his plan? Wait me out? Stare at me until my memories magically returned? Or had he simply decided that prolonged eye contact counted as a personality?
When did a silent, brooding guy with a staring fetish become my type?
“What happened to the loud guy?” I asked, breaking the silence yet again.
Seriously, was I going to be carrying every conversation in this marriage?
He blinked, pulled from whatever thoughts had his attention. “Liam went to work. One of us—”
The words died halfway out of his mouth.
He froze. For a split second, pain flickered across his face, raw and haunted before disappearing so quickly I almost wondered if I’d imagined it.
I leaned forward slightly. “One of us what?”
He shook his head, dismissing the question with a small movement. “Nothing. He just had to go.”
“And you didn’t?”
Couldn’t he have work to do too? He’d been hovering around me ever since I woke up, practically glued to this room like he was convinced I’d vanish the second he looked away.
Didn’t this man have a job?
At this rate, was he planning to leave at all?
His eyes snapped to mine, a storm of unreadable emotion flashing across them.
Before either of us could say another word, a sharp knock sounded at the door. His attention immediately shifted toward it, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing one of the most arrestingly handsome men I had ever seen.
He was tall and sharply dressed, with neatly rolled sleeves. His dark hair was pushed back, his jawline too defined to be fair, and his calm, precise movements screamed corporate executive, but his face screamed runway.
The newcomer went straight to Cassian, barely sparing me more than a polite glance as he approached the window.
“Sir,” he said, his voice calm and efficient, “the Aethelstan transition team has been briefed. I’ve postponed all in-person meetings for the next few weeks, so you’ll only need to join a few key calls to keep everything moving.”
Cassian dragged a hand down his face, looking increasingly exhausted by the conversation. “Rohan, I told Liam I needed to be completely offline—”
“Are you a model?” I blurted.
Rohan’s brows shot up, his professional composure momentarily abandoning him.
Cassian’s head swung in my direction, his eyes narrowing slightly. “He’s my assistant.”
“Right,” I said, still assessing him. “But like… part-time?”
Cassian’s mouth flattened into a hard line.
Rohan cleared his throat and attempted to steer the conversation back onto professional ground. “Mrs. Quinn, it’s good to finally meet you. How are you feeling—”
“So, model?” I cut in.
His eyes darted toward Cassian for the briefest moment before returning to me. “Uh… no.”
“Nothing at all?” I tilted my head. “Not even a local advertisement? A friend’s fashion blog? One of those suspiciously lavish perfume commercials where nobody actually says anything?”
His lips twitched before he shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Really?” I leaned forward slightly, genuinely baffled. “You’ve never been approached? You have the bone structure, the posture, the whole package. It’s very classic commercial symmetry.”
He glanced down at himself, then back at me, puzzled.
“I’m serious.” The more I looked at him, the more convinced I became. “I have a lifestyle brand client looking for someone exactly like you. Clean-cut, credible, approachable. You look expensive without looking intimidating. That’s difficult to find.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You’d be perfect.” I glanced around the bedside table, searching for something to write on, only to come up empty-handed. I pointed toward his pocket. “Just put my number in your phone. I’ll have my assistant arrange a test shoot as soon as I’m out of here.”
Rohan’s hand immediately went to his pocket. He had barely pulled out his phone when Cassian’s hand came down firmly on his shoulder.
The movement stopped him cold.
“Weren’t you leaving?” Cassian asked, his voice low enough to make the question sound suspiciously like an order.
Rohan looked at the hand on his shoulder, then at Cassian’s face.
A brief silence passed.
“Yes, sir.” He gave a quick nod and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I was.” He turned and headed for the door with impressive speed.
“Hey!” My accusing gaze snapped toward Cassian. “You just scared away my model.”
“You should be resting, not scouting talent,” he replied, his expression still carrying the remnants of his earlier irritation.
I rolled my eyes and sank back against the pillow. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
The words came automatically, something I’d said a hundred times without ever giving them a second thought. There had never been any meaning behind them.
But this time, the room changed the second they left my mouth.
Cassian went completely still. Every trace of color vanished from his face.
His expression changed so quickly it unsettled me, his eyes widening at the words with a fear far too intense for a stupid joke.
His fingers curled tightly at his sides, his knuckles paling beneath the strain, and genuine terror flashed across his features.
My smile disappeared. “You… okay?”
He blinked, but the fear remained. His breathing turned uneven, each inhale coming quicker than the last, his chest rising and falling beneath the effort of keeping himself composed.
“It was just a joke,” I murmured, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands or my voice. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Never,” he said, swallowing hard before continuing, “ever joke about that, Alessia.”
“I—I didn’t mean—”
“Never, Alessia.”
I studied him, searching his face for the anger I’d expected to find.
There wasn’t any.
He looked genuinely terrified of ever hearing those words from me again.
“Okay,” I murmured, giving him a small nod. “I won’t.”
His shoulders dropped almost instantly. The tension that had been holding his entire body rigid seemed to drain out of him, leaving him visibly sagging with relief. He dragged in a slow breath and looked away for a moment, composing himself.
I glanced around the sterile room, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—that didn’t involve the look he’d had on his face a moment ago. “So…” I tipped my chin toward him, searching for a distraction. “Is this your thing?”
He frowned. “My thing?”
“Yeah. The silent, serious act.” I waved a hand toward his perpetually brooding face. “Is that the brand? Brood in corners, stare at people until they confess their deepest secrets, occasionally say something terrifying?”
A short breath escaped him, suspiciously close to a laugh. He dropped his gaze, shaking his head in disbelief, amusement tugging at his features.
When his eyes lifted to mine again, genuine amusement danced there.
And something else.
Something that sent a prickling sensation along the back of my neck.
The corner of his mouth slowly curled upward, the expression radiating an infuriating confidence that immediately made me regret trying to lighten the mood.
I recoiled slightly. “You know what? Never mind. Go back to the silent, expressionless routine. This version of you is somehow even more unsettling.”
A full smile spread across his face, transforming him completely. The man who had spent most of the morning looking carved from stone suddenly looked younger, warmer, almost boyish.
“How long are you planning to keep this up?” he asked.
My brows rose. “Keep what up?”
He tilted his head, his gaze holding mine with unnerving certainty. The amusement remained on his lips, but his eyes had sharpened. “Pretending you lost your memories.”