“You surely knew thatAllurewas run by me, or at the very least in the casino owned by me,” he said, his eyes narrowing and his smile fading. Not menacingly, but with certainty. “You’ve been gone for years on end. Yet suddenly, I open a new casino. Mine might be the best new art exhibit in Vegas, but I am not stupid enough to think that it is the only one. You came to me.”
“Maybe I got tired of running,” I said.
I couldn’t believe I’d blurted those words out. Even Cassius reeled. Not for long; it was an involuntary reaction he quickly got under control. But neither of us couldn’t believe someone had finally said something vulnerable.
It was like unlocking a door that opened up a whole pile of inner thoughts, because suddenly, I couldn’t stop talking.
“I got tired of running from you, from the Reapers, from our life of failure in Vegas, Cassius,” I said. I was looking at him, my gaze unyielding. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t—didn’t want to—look anywhere else. “A life on the run is not a life worth living. I did some terrible things. But instead of apologizing for them, I ran. I told myself when I signed up for the gala that I was attempting to return to Vegas. But maybe…”
I sighed. Fuck it, it was all coming now.
“Maybe I was attempting to return to you.”
Cassius gulped, which I only noticed because of how carefully I was watching him. His Adam’s apple barely bobbed, but move it did. The rest of him remained statue-esque, measuring me and taking me in.
He stepped forward and took my hand in his. Firmly, with power, but not with violence. He slipped his other hand to my hip and pulled me against him.
I swallowed, and my gulp was surely noticeable across the entirety of Manhattan’s skyline. This moment, when all talking ceases but so much gets said in between, the spark that flies between eyes and lips… it was familiar, but from long, long ago. Not quite a lifetime ago, but a majority of a lifetime ago.
“Cassius, I?—”
He put a finger to my lips. The mere touch of his finger on my lips about made my legs collapse, my knees weaken. I was in his grip, so the only place I would have fallen was further into him.
“You came to me,” he said, “and you became mine.”
He leaned forward. Our faces were mere inches apart. I could have closed my eyes, leaned forward….
“You are mine, Sarah,” Cassius said. “No matter where we are.”
I bit my lip. God, the anticipation. He closed his eyes. I closed mine.
I leaned forward.
And just barely grazed his cheek with a kiss that was not intended to be only that.
“Cassius?” I said. Before I’d finished speaking, he’d already let me go.
He stormed over to the balcony railing, his body shaking, and not from the cold. I could not see his face, but I almost did not want to. The way Cassius trembled was like a man boiling himself from within with fire and anger. But over what? Virgil? I didn’t dare mention his name right now, but…
What was going through his mind?
At least I’d finally—well, maybe not finally, but most strongly—expressed how I felt. I’d put the ball in Cassius’ court, saying that I was returning to him. He’d said I was his. What the hell were we waiting for?
No. I knew what we were waiting for.
The inner cognitive dissonance to fade. To dispel the dual feelings of immense attraction and terrible repulsion. I wanted to pin it on Cassius, to say he was the only one experiencing it.
But I knew better.
I knew a part of me resented being so reliant on him the past week or so. A part of me hated the idea that just as quickly as he’d built my art career, he could permanently destroy it. Yes, relationships entailed risk even with bank accounts less than nine or even six digits, but there was a big difference between the risk of a third date going awry versus reuniting with a man like Cassius Vale.
All that said, I found myself frozen, unsure whether to come forward to him or not. If I pushed too far, he would reject me. Not try hard enough, and he’d let me fade away. I couldn’t leave here without an answer of some kind, and yet?—
Cassius finally turned, still taking it hard, deep breaths through his nose. The breathing pattern was very much of a man trying to steady his inner fire.
“You have made tonight quite interesting, Sarah,” he said. He stepped forward once more, not quite close enough to grab my hand and my hip but getting there. “In the spirit of honesty, I suppose you could say I am also tired of running. Oh, sure, not in the literal sense. My brothers and I don’t run from a fight. But I grow tired of running from what we came here for. What this whole… thing is for.”
“Which is?”
