Which meant that even if the Morrils followed through on their threat to release a hit piece on her, even if they had bigger plans, even if someday, their business empire surpassed ours and we had to accept second place…
So be it.
I could choose Sarah, or I could choose revenge and power, but I couldn’t choose both. She wouldn’t allow me, nor should she. And for fuck’s sake, if the Black Reapers could choose women over revenge and power…
Maybe it was a fucking good thing that we weren’t as dissimilar as I had once thought.
“Well, Cassius,” I said to myself. Suddenly, I didn’t feel the need to be as drunk as I was. Oh, there was no magic “pull alcohol out of body” technology; I was going to suffer a hangover tomorrow morning, even if I chugged water for the next hour. But I’d gotten what I needed. “Guess the King of Hearts will become her king for her heart.”
I chuckled. That was a fucking terrible joke. But maybe, in a weird way, that was another part of this entire process. Letting go of the need for perfect control, whether over my empire, my city, or my words, to let something gentler in.
Now, however, practical issues.
The last time I’d called Sarah, it had blown up badly in my face. I hadn’t forced her to do anything, but there was certainly something to the fact that I had taken the same tone with her as I might have in an urgent business meeting. I didn’t feel unjustified in doing that, but I had to be aware it had backfired.
So, I had to frame it more gently than that. I had to…
I had to, fuck, give her the option.
That wasn’t especially pleasant. If she took the option, I would spare no expense to make her feel welcome. But I couldn’t drag her in anymore than the Reapers had dragged their women to their feet.
So, carefully—certainly more carefully than I had with Prince—I pulled out Sarah’s contact and texted her. I wrote out the message, read it a couple of times, edited it to be as gentle as I could—I was still Cassius Vale, there was only so much I could do—and hit send.
My job was done. All that I could do now was wait. It went against everything I knew and how I operated, but if I wanted a different result, I needed a different approach.
And to achieve the result of love I’d never had in my life before, I really had to do something I’d never done before.
26
SARAH
“Come to my rooftop penthouse tomorrow night if you want. If you do not come, I promise I will never bother you again. If you come and you wish to leave, I promise I will never bother you again. I ask only that you come and listen.”
That was it.
That was the only thing Cassius had written. No urgency, no implied threats, no curt warnings saying not to waste his time. It was so simple and so… clean, I almost wondered if he’d had an assistant draft it.
But no, something in the wording told me this was really him. Maybe it was him promising to hold himself to a certain standard. Maybe it was the way the text started, still direct and blunt. Or maybe it was just a gut feeling.
My initial reaction, honestly, was to mumble, “Fuck off,” and to put my phone back in my pocket. My father and I were watching a football game, and the last thing I needed was to lose valuable time with him.
But the more time that passed, the less I could watch the game and focus on our conversation, and the more I thought about what Cassius had texted.
One more night, and then I’d either be free or… I guess I might be back in his orbit. There was something kind of relieving about having that definitive promise from him. If I ignored it, there was always the chance he’d just keep pestering me, keep magically showing up at events and art galleries I was attending. I didn’t think he’d be desperate, but I thought he’d be patient. And by being patient, he’d unnerve me.
Or I could go over tomorrow, see him one last time, and make things established once and for all.
Plus.
I missed him, didn’t I?
I could sit here and lie to myself. I could say Cassius was too obsessed with power and the Reapers. I could say that being around him and his burgeoning business empire was terrible for my sanity.
But lies that might be sturdy during the day always unraveled at night, especially when the lights were out and the conversations had stopped, and the past couple nights had not been kind to my sleep.
Maybe it wasn’t missing him per se, but there definitely felt like unfinished business there. Tomorrow night might yet provide that.
If nothing else, the view up there sure was nice.
