Chapter 10
“Whatever you want,” he pleaded. “Just don’t leave me.”
I clicked my tongue, unimpressed. “That’s not the compelling offer you seem to think it is.” I crossed the room and returned to my desk.
“Please.” He came toward me before stopping himself, his entire body taut with the effort not to reach for me. “You have to believe me. I had no idea. If I had known—”
“Why are you telling me this?” I lowered myself into my chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on every word.
His throat worked before he forced the words out. “Because I don’t want you to think even less of me than you already do.”
A short, bitter laugh escaped me. “No.” I leaned back, watching him with a coldness I didn’t bother to hide. “You’re telling me this because you need to prove you’re different from your mother.”
He blinked, completely thrown off balance by my words. “What?”
I leaned forward, planting my elbows on the desk as I pinned him with my stare.
“You want to prove that in the hierarchy of people who’ve been cruel to me, you at least rank lower than her.
You’re asking for points for basic human decency.
You’re saying you didn’t know what she was doing, that you would’ve stopped her, just so you can prove you’re better than her.
That I should be grateful that at least you’re not that. ”
Hurt and sheer devastation ripped through the last of his defenses.
His mouth opened, but the words refused to come.
He blinked hard, once, twice, trying to gather himself, but all he managed was a fractured whisper.
“No, Alessia… is that really what you think of me?” He shook his head, almost pleading with me to take it back.
“I don’t want points. I don’t want you to praise me for being better than her.
I just…” He dragged a hand over his face, his breath catching painfully.
“I just want you to know the truth. That’s all I’m asking for. ”
I scoffed, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.
“The truth? Fine. Let’s lay it all out, then.
” Anger tightened my voice as I held his gaze.
“The truth is that I have a husband whose mother has been using me as her unpaid event planner while treating me with enough condescension to make my blood boil. I spent ten minutes with that woman today, and I was ready to scream.” My fingers curled against the edge of the desk, nails biting into the wood.
“And you expect me to believe you had no idea I’d been dealing with that for an entire year?
I was busting my ass for her, right under your nose, for a year, and you were completely oblivious? ”
I leaned back, my voice dropping to a lethal calm. “The truth is I have a husband who was so profoundly uninvolved in my life that he didn’t even know what was causing me stress in my own home. So, please, enlighten me. How is this ‘truth’ any better?”
He flinched at every accusation, each one striking another crack through the man who had walked into the room believing an explanation might save him. His gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders folding beneath the weight of my words.
The silence grew heavy between us. When he finally raised his head, there was no defense left in his face, no attempt to justify himself. Only anguish.
“It’s not better,” he whispered, his face tightening beneath the weight of his own words. “I was just a worse husband than I ever realized.”
A cold, triumphant smile touched my lips. “Yes. You were.”
He had finally admitted it. That was all I needed.
I had only meant to toy with him for a while before filing for divorce, to make him squirm a little before ending the marriage for good. But I had no interest in dragging this out any longer than necessary.
If he was willing to agree to the divorce, there was no reason to turn it into another battle. A mutual divorce would be cleaner, faster, and far less painful than forcing him through the process he had already warned me he would drag out if I filed for it.
“So, now that we’ve established the facts, can we stop this charade and get on with the divorce?” I reached for my phone, already opening my contacts. “I’ll call my lawyer now. We can have the papers drawn up and—”
“No.”
My hand stopped.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, suppressing the groan clawing its way up my throat.
Is “no” the only word he knows?
I looked at him again, utterly at a loss for how he could possibly be this infuriating.
He was staring back at me with a stubbornness that made my jaw tighten. Whatever shame had been weighing him down moments ago was gone, replaced by a resolve that was almost infuriating in its intensity.
“All this proves,” he said, his voice low and unwavering, “is that I have to become ten times the man I was. I have to do better. I have to become the husband you should have had from the beginning.” His jaw clenched, his eyes holding mine with stubborn resolve.
“I failed you once. I will spend the rest of my life making sure I never do it again. But we are not getting a divorce.”
I gritted my teeth.
Of course.
Of course he had to make this difficult.
This man possessed a singular, infuriating talent for finding the exact nerve to press until I wanted to scream.
“Cassian,” I said his name slowly, forcing every ounce of irritation beneath a voice so calm it bordered on dangerous.
“Whatever redemption fantasy you’ve built in your head, bury it.
You might want to believe you’re somehow better because you weren’t as cruel as your mother, but I don’t believe cruelty comes with rankings.
I don’t care who hurt me more. I don’t care who deserves the title of worst person.
” I leaned forward. “If someone is cruel to me, they are cruel. Period. It doesn’t become acceptable because someone else was worse. ”
He absorbed every word without looking away.
“It doesn’t matter that I don’t remember it,” I continued. “It happened. You did it. And that alone is enough for me.”
“I know.” His answer came without hesitation, without an attempt to defend himself. “And I know I can’t change what happened.” He took a step closer, his expression fierce with a determination that refused to bend. “But I can change what happens next.”
“I will earn your forgiveness. I will earn the right to stand beside you again, no matter how long it takes or how many times you tell me to leave.” His expression hardened, refusing to yield an inch.
“I’m not giving up on you, Alessia. I almost lost you once.
I won’t make the mistake of letting you go again. ”
I could feel a headache beginning behind my eyes. I set my phone down with more force than necessary and turned my attention to my computer, hoping the screen might offer me the one thing Cassian apparently had no intention of giving me: peace.
“You dropped me off at work, so your job here is done. Go home.”
“No.”
I paused.
I need to get this man a dictionary.
Preferably one large enough to hit him over the head with.
I slowly looked back at him. “What do you mean, no?”
He walked over and dropped into the chair opposite my desk, looking far too comfortable for a man who had just been ordered to leave.
“If I go home, you’re going to bury yourself in work and forget I exist.” He folded his arms, watching me with an infuriating calm. “You’ll spend the next six hours answering emails, staring at spreadsheets, and pretending you don’t have a husband.” His mouth curved faintly. “So I’m staying.”
I stared at him.
He gestured toward me, then the computer, as if presenting an entirely reasonable argument. “I’ll sit right here while you work. I won’t bother you. I won’t interrupt. I won’t ask you for anything. I’ll just be here.”
A vivid urge to commit murder surged through me.
Hell, give me five.
I could work with five.
My fingers curled against the edge of the desk before I forced myself to breathe. Then another thought emerged from beneath the fury, colder and far more useful.
He had told me I could do whatever I wanted to him.
Whatever I wanted.
My irritation began to evaporate.
A slow smile curved across my lips as I looked at the half-full coffee sitting innocently on my desk.
“Where’s the coffee you got for me, Cassian?” I asked sweetly.
He blinked, completely thrown by the question. Suspicion and concern crossed his face. “You gave it to Naija. Don’t you remember?”
I arranged my face into thoughtful confusion, tapping one finger against my chin.
“I did?” I frowned harder. “When exactly did that happen? Because I have absolutely no memory of handing my coffee to anyone.” I reached for the intercom, barely suppressing the smile threatening to betray me.
“Naija, could you come in here for a moment?”
She appeared a few seconds later, and I got straight to the point. “Naija, did I give you my coffee earlier?”
She took one look at me, then at Cassian, and played her part without missing a beat. “No, boss. I don’t think I’d forget something that important.”
I tilted my head, fixing Cassian with a look of pure, manufactured disappointment. “Huh. Why would you lie to me? You could have just said you forgot. There was no need to lie.”
His eyes bounced between Naija and me.
It took him all of two seconds to figure out exactly what I was doing.
Instead of protesting, he straightened his shoulders. “My mistake. I forgot. I’ll go get it for you now.” He moved toward the door.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Aren’t you going to ask how I take my coffee?” I called after him, pouring every ounce of artificial sweetness into the question. “You wouldn’t want to make another terrible mistake, would you?”
He paused with his hand on the door and glanced back at me. “I don’t need to ask,” he replied, his confidence bordering on smugness. “I know how my wife takes her coffee.”