Chapter 9 #2
Camilla turned that radiant smile on him, sweetness layered so thickly over her words I could practically taste it.
“My monthly tea parties, silly! I only came to ask Alessia for a few little suggestions, that’s all.
” She gave another delicate laugh, but the strain beneath it was impossible to miss.
“I didn’t know offering suggestions was called ‘planning’ these days. My, how times have changed.”
I tilted my head, giving her my most innocent look. “Huh.”
Then I palmed my forehead in an exaggerated show of realization.
“Silly me. I must have misunderstood. When you demanded the theme, criticized the flowers, and declared last month’s party merely ‘decent’ and the one before it a disaster…
” I let out a small, rueful laugh. “I mistakenly thought you were asking me to plan them.”
I tapped my temple, my smile turning sweet. “But you’re right. You only asked for suggestions. My mistake for thinking all those demands, revisions, and detailed criticisms were directed at my work rather than your own.”
Her smile vanished. She glared at me, her eyes spitting out every insult her lips didn’t dare utter.
Cassian’s voice cut through the silence, disbelief sharpening every word. “You’ve been having Alessia plan your parties?”
She sputtered, “No, Cassian. It’s not like that—” She shook her head, scrambling for an explanation. “Alessia is just—”
“Alessia is what?” Cassian cut in, his voice turning cold enough to make the room tense.
Camilla recoiled, genuinely startled. She clearly wasn’t used to this side of him.
I clapped my hands together once.
The sharp crack tore through the tension, and every head turned toward me.
“As fascinating as this family drama is,” I said, my patience thinning, “I’d appreciate it if the Sterling family reunion happened somewhere off my property.” I looked directly at Camilla and gave her a smile devoid of warmth. “And in case I wasn’t clear the first time, that means get out.”
I turned on my heel and walked into my office, refusing to spare any of them another glance. Naija hurried after me and pulled the door shut behind us, shutting them out.
I braced both palms against my desk and fixed my eyes on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped for a moment before returning to mine. “I didn’t want to add to your stress.”
“What?”
She exhaled, frustration and concern tangled together in the sound. “You already have enough on your plate, Alessia.”
The use of my first name signaled a shift; she was speaking as my friend, not my employee.
“You suffered a traumatic brain injury. You lost three years of your life. And the moment you were able to stand on your own two feet, you decided you were going to throw yourself straight back into work.” Her brows drew together, her voice gaining force with every word.
“I knew you weren’t going to listen to anyone who told you to slow down.
You’re stubborn as hell, and we both know it. ”
Despite myself, my mouth twitched.
She wasn’t amused.
“So I did what I could. I kept the things I thought you could handle off your desk. I dealt with the things that could wait. I tried to make sure you didn’t have another problem shoved in your face when you were already trying to remember how your own life worked.
” Her jaw tightened. “And telling you that you’d been bending over backward for that woman, giving her everything she wanted without charging her a damn thing, wouldn’t have helped you at all.
So no, I’m not sorry for keeping it from you. Not when I was trying to protect you.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the force in her voice, though I shouldn’t have been. Naija had always been fiercely loyal, but when that loyalty was fueled by concern for someone she loved, she became impossible to stop.
“I…” I began, then stopped. I looked down at my desk, trying to gather the thoughts crowding my head. “I didn’t realize it was affecting you this much.”
Her expression softened, but only slightly. “Alessia, you were unconscious for five days.”
I swallowed.
I lowered my eyes, the fight draining from me. I’d spent so much time trying to understand what had happened to me that I’d never stopped to consider what it had done to everyone else.
“Thank you,” I said at last, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything. For staying. For handling things when I couldn’t.”
Her expression softened fully then, and she gave me a small nod. “Always.”
I drew in a breath and looked back at her. “But don’t keep things from me again.”
She straightened, her expression turning professional again. “Understood.” She held my gaze for another second before adding, “It won’t happen again.”
A small, genuine smile passed between us, a brief moment of restored understanding, before a sharp knock cut through it. The door opened without waiting for an answer, and Cassian stepped inside.
“Alessia, I had no idea—”
“Naija,” I interrupted, my eyes never leaving hers. “The food and coffee are for you. Would you take them from him?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
Cassian handed everything over, looking briefly lost. Naija gave me one last glance before stepping out, and the door clicked shut behind her.
“Alessia, I had no idea my mother was doing this.” He took a step toward me, his voice rushing ahead of him.
“Earlier this year, you told me she’d asked for help planning a party, but that was supposed to be a one-time thing.
She was sick, and you were helping her. I didn’t know it was still happening.
I didn’t know she was making you do this.
” His expression tightened with guilt. “I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve stopped it immediately. ”
He kept talking. Kept piling excuse upon excuse.
Why did he think any of it changed what had happened?
I pushed away from my desk and walked around it, unhurried, until I was standing directly in front of him. Close enough to make him stop moving. Close enough to see the faint hazel rings surrounding his brown eyes.
I tilted my head. “Cassian Sterling.”
He flinched.
It was the first time I’d said his name since I woke up, and hearing it from my lips seemed to strike a place in him my other words hadn’t reached.
Then I asked, almost contemplatively, “What do I do with you?”