18. Cassian
CASSIAN
Light filters through unfamiliar curtains. I wake disoriented, muscles protesting movement, brain taking several seconds to place where I am. Amara's apartment. Her bed. The soft sound of her breathing beside me.
I turn my head carefully. She's still asleep, face half-buried in the pillow, dark curls spread across white cotton. One hand rests near her face, fingers slightly curled. Peaceful in a way she never is when awake.
I slide out of bed slowly, locate my clothes scattered across the floor. Pants first, then shirt, buttoning it quietly while watching Amara for signs of waking. She shifts slightly but doesn't open her eyes.
The hallway's dim. I move toward the front door, pause outside June's room where the door sits cracked. I can't help myself. I push it open another inch, peer inside.
She's sprawled across her bed, one leg hanging off the edge, comforter twisted around her waist. Her mouth's slightly open, a faint snore escaping.
This small person carries my DNA, my eyes, part of my history written into her features.
I spent five years not knowing she existed and now the thought of leaving without saying goodbye feels wrong.
But Amara said to leave before June wakes. So I do what she asked. I move to June's bedside, lean down, press a kiss to her forehead. She doesn't stir.
Then I head back to Amara's room. She's still asleep, breathing steady. I crouch beside the bed, brush a curl away from her face. She mumbles something unintelligible, turns toward the touch.
I kiss her temple, soft enough not to wake her. "I'll call you later."
She doesn't respond. I stand, grab my jacket from where it landed near the door, and slip out of the apartment before my resolve weakens.
The lobby's empty except for a doorman who glances up from his phone, nods politely. I nod back, push through the glass doors into morning air that's colder than I expected.
My car's parked two blocks over. I start walking, hands shoved in my pockets, brain still processing last night. Amara kissing me like she'd been holding back for years, the desperate way she pulled me toward her bedroom, how she looked riding me with her head thrown back and lips parted.
Six years of wanting her, of carrying her memory around like a ghost, and last night she let me back in. Not all the way—there are still walls, still fear lurking beneath the surface—but enough. Enough to give me hope that maybe this isn't completely broken.
I reach my car, slide into the driver's seat. My phone shows three missed calls from Walt, two texts asking where I am and if I'm still alive. I ignore them, pull into morning traffic that's already building toward rush hour chaos.
The drive to my penthouse takes thirty minutes. By the time I park in the underground garage and head toward the elevator, the sun's fully up. Golden light slants through the glass walls of the lobby, making everything look too bright, too exposed.
The elevator opens on my floor. I step out, already mentally cataloguing what needs to happen today—shower, change clothes, get to the office before my father notices I'm late.
Then I see her.
Raylin Hart, sitting on the bench outside my door. Dressed in a white silk blouse and tailored black pants, hair perfect, makeup flawless. She stands when she sees me, arms crossed.
"Where have you been?"
I don't slow down. "None of your business."
"I called six times."
"I didn't answer for a reason." I unlock my door, push it open. She follows me inside before I can stop her. "Raylin, get out."
"Not until you tell me where you were." Her eyes scan my appearance, taking in the wrinkled shirt, the obvious marks on my neck. "Oh my God. You were with her."
I head toward the kitchen, grab a glass from the cabinet. "With who?"
"Don't play stupid, Cassian. Amara Campbell. That artist you've been obsessing over." Her voice rises. "You slept with her."
I fill the glass with water, drink half of it before responding. "Again, none of your business."
"It is my business! We've been friends since we were children. Our families are connected. You can't just—" She breaks off, composure cracking. "You can't throw away everything for some woman who disappeared for six years!"
"There's nothing to throw away, Raylin. There's never been anything between us except your imagination."
"That's not true."
"It absolutely is." I set the glass down hard. "I've told you repeatedly, for years, that I'm not interested. You refuse to listen."
Her eyes narrow, catching on something. She steps closer, reaches up toward my neck. I grab her wrist before she makes contact.
"Don't touch me."
"Is that a hickey?" Her voice goes shrill. "She gave you a fucking hickey like some teenager?"
"Get. Out."
"No." She wrenches her arm free, steps back but doesn't move toward the door. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell you're thinking. Amara Campbell is nothing, Cassian. She has no connections, no family worth mentioning, no place in our world. She'll drag you down?—"
"Stop talking."
"—and embarrass your family and make you choose between her and everything your father built. Is that really what you want? To destroy Black Lake's reputation because you're chasing some college fantasy?"
Something in me snaps. "Amara is the mother of my daughter. So yes, she absolutely has a place in my life. A permanent one. Get used to it."
Raylin goes still. All color drains from her face. "What?"
"You heard me."
"You have a daughter? With her?"
"Yes."
"How old?"
"Five."
Her mouth opens and closes several times. Then her hand flies up, aims for my face. I catch it easily, hold it mid-air while she struggles.
"Don't."
"You had a child with her and never told anyone?!" She's screaming now, thrashing against my grip. "All this time you've been lying to me, to everyone, pretending you were available when you had a fucking family hidden away somewhere?"
"I didn't know until weeks ago. Amara left before she could tell me. I spent six years looking for her."
"Well, that's convenient."
"It's the truth." I release her wrist, put distance between us. "Now get out of my apartment before I call security."
She doesn't move. Rage contorts her features into something ugly, all pretense of sophistication stripped away. "My father's going to hear about this."
"Tell him. Tell the whole goddamn city for all I care. It doesn't change anything."
"It changes everything! My dad and your dad have business relationships going back decades. If you humiliate me, embarrass me by choosing that woman over me, it damages those relationships. It makes me look like a fool?—"
"You are a fool if you think I was ever choosing you.
I've never wanted you, Raylin. Not once in all the years you've been circling.
You created a fantasy in your head where we end up together, where you become Mrs. Griffin and get access to my family's money and status.
But it was always fantasy. I told you no repeatedly. You just refused to accept it."
Her jaw trembles. "You led me on?—"
"I didn't. I was polite because our families know each other. I tolerated your presence at events because making a scene would've been awkward. But I never gave you reason to think there was something more."
"Everyone expected us to end up together!"
"Everyone except me." I move toward the door, open it. "Leave. I don't want to see you again unless it's absolutely necessary for business. And even then, we interact professionally or not at all."
She doesn't budge. Tears stream down her face now, mascara creating black tracks on her cheeks. "I love you."
"No, you don't. You love the idea of what I represent."
"Cassian—"
"Out. Now."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then something changes in her expression.
The tears stop, replaced by something sharper.
"You'll regret this. When that woman shows her true colors, when she takes your money and disappears again, when your daughter grows up confused and damaged because of this mess, you'll regret choosing her over someone who actually gives a damn about you. "
"I'll take my chances."
She grabs her purse from where she dropped it on the floor, stalks toward the door. Then, she pauses in the threshold and turns back. "My father's going to pull his investments from Black Lake. Every single partnership, every collaboration. He'll make sure your family feels this."
"Then he's as delusional as you are. Black Lake doesn't need Leonard Hart's money. We're fine without him."
"We'll see about that."
She leaves. The door slams behind her hard enough to rattle the frame. I stand there for a moment, breathing hard, adrenaline still coursing through my system from the confrontation.
Then I lock the deadbolt, pull out my phone, and dial Walt.
He answers on the second ring. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Amara's apartment."
"…You're kidding."
"Nope."
"I need the details. Now."
I move toward the bathroom, start stripping off yesterday's clothes. "June invited me to stay for dinner. Then she asked me to read her a bedtime story. Then after she fell asleep, Amara and I..." I pause. "We had sex."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"Okay, back up. How did dinner lead to sex? Last time we talked, she could barely stand being in the same room with you."
"I don't know. She kissed me. Then dragged me to her bedroom. I wasn't about to argue."
Walt laughs. "So you just went with it?"
"Obviously." I turn on the shower, wait for the water to heat. "But that's not why I called. Raylin was waiting outside my apartment when I got home. She saw the marks on my neck, figured out where I'd been. She flipped out."
"Define flipped out."
"Screaming, crying, trying to hit me. Said her father's going to pull investments from Black Lake.
Threatened to make Amara's life hell." Steam fills the bathroom.
I step under the spray, let hot water beat against tense muscles.
"I told her I never wanted her, that she needed to accept it and move on. She didn't take it well."
"Shocking," Walt says dryly. "You've only been telling her that for years."
"She's convinced everyone expected us to end up together. That choosing Amara over her is some massive betrayal."
"Because in Raylin's world, women like Amara don't win. Women like Raylin do." He pauses. "You need to protect Amara and June. If Raylin's as pissed as you're saying, she'll escalate."
The thought sends ice through my veins despite the hot water. "She wouldn't go after June. That's too far even for her."
"You sure about that? Because an angry, humiliated Raylin Hart doesn't strike me as someone with clear boundaries."
He's right. I know he's right. Raylin's already proven she'll manipulate situations to get what she wants. If she feels cornered, if she thinks attacking June or Amara will hurt me enough to change my mind...
"I'll handle it," I say quietly.
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But I will."
Walt's quiet for a moment. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're finally standing up to her. Should've happened years ago."
"Yeah, well… Better late than never."