If this touches Ivan, I need Alex clean. I need him to choose me over blood. He says he will. I’ll believe him until I can’t.
I stand and close the distance by two steps. I do not crowd her. I simply want her to know that I am here. I see her stiffen and I take it in, sitting on the edge of the table and letting the silence fill the space.
I pour water into a clean glass and set it in front of her. She takes it without argument. Good. I like obedience that is about trust, not fear.
I think of Clara in the ICU, of the call she took last night alone in her room. I heard about it later. The surgery was a success, though her heart stumbled. Clara flatlined and came back. They are keeping her sedated while they look for the reason. I know Cassandra wants to be there. Sheshouldbe there.
“You should see your sister.”
Hope hits her face like a light before she looks down, ashamed for showing it. I hate that shame. I accept that I caused it by waiting to tell her.
“We go today. After the routes are clear. Private entrance. Two cars. Guards. Ninety minutes. You don’t move without my say-so.”
She nods too fast. I look at her. “Your safety is nonnegotiable.”
“Understood,” she says.
I hold my hand out. She takes it and stands. I check the wrap to make sure it’s snug.
I signal to Miss Bennett, and she comes in, notepad at the ready. “Can you please order some food for Miss Hewitt?” I ask.
A tray arrives five minutes later. Soup, bread, and a small bowl of berries, along with a pain pill that won’t fog her head. She tries to refuse, but I insist because I want her strong. After she eats, color comes back to her cheeks, and her hands stop shaking.
I give her a thin stack of work comprising hotel group contracts, a shipping lane brief, and a calendar with slots that need closing. “Sit in here. Shadow the calls. Learn the clean front of my business. Soon, all of it will be clean.”
She nods.
Alex texts a couple of photos to the secure display. The torched SUV. The cut gate.
“Miss Bennett,” I call out. She steps in. “I want a list of the people who knew the mirror room schedule. Staff. Security. Vendors. I want phones and movements for each.”
“Yes, sir,” she says and leaves.
Cassandra watches quietly. She takes a breath and sets her shoulders.
“You’re shaking,” I tell her.
“I’m still here,” she says.
“You are.”
I want to kiss her. I want to call her mine. I do neither. I sit back, making a choice I already know is a mistake. I place my hand on her knee, slow, visible, and slide it up the inside of her thigh beneath her skirt, a claim.
She flinches. “Don’t.” The word is quiet but firm. She takes my wrist and moves my hand away.
I lift both hands, palms open. No argument. “Because of last night or because of Raquel?”
“Both.” Her chin tips up in defiance, not obedience. “You scare me. And knowing you used to be with Raquel doesn’t help.”
Bewilderment edges me first, then amusement, because her aim is clean and she doesn’t miss. But in that moment of rejection, I realize that I want more from her than just a month-long arrangement.
“Noted,” I say.
Her shoulders drop a fraction before she says, “It messed with my head, seeing the way she was with you, the way the room watched you. I don’t want to be?—”
“A target,” I finish.
“Yes.”
