Everything they couldn't stop.
They hadn't meant to go back into the forest.
But after the chaos of the lake and the aching silence that followed, Cassian had suggested a walk. And Sienna had agreed—perhaps too quickly.
The path was illuminated by small lanterns hanging from posts, casting soft golden halos of light across the mossy earth. The air was cooler now, with the warmth of the day tucked away beneath the earth, replaced by a crisp breeze that whispered through the trees. Above them, stars bloomed like white fire scattered across the navy sky, uninterrupted by city glow.
It looked like something from a fairytale.
A romantic one.
And that thought alone made Sienna's pulse skip.
She walked beside him, their shoulders brushing every so often as the path narrowed and widened again. Neither of them said much at first, just let the forest settle around them. Crickets chirped. Branches creaked. Somewhere, an owl hooted low.
Cassian had his hands in his pockets. He kept looking at her lips.
Not subtly.
It wasn't like before—when he'd undress her with his eyes, tease her with purpose. Now it was… distracted. Like he couldn't help it. Especially when she laughed at something small he said, brushing her hair behind her ear with that soft smile she didn't even realize she wore.
He'd glance away quickly. Too quickly.
And she noticed.
And it made something inside her twist.
"Oh my God," she whispered to herself when they paused near a wide tree with lanterns tangled in its branches. "We're on a date."
Cassian looked over, eyebrows raised. "What was that?"
"Nothing." She cleared her throat. "Just thinking out loud."
He smirked. "Dangerous habit."
She elbowed him lightly. "Says the man who once tried to heat a sandwich on his laptop."
"That was one time."
"And it short-circuited the entire office wing."
"Only because the outlet wasn't grounded properly."
"You blamed the interns."
"They looked guilty."
She laughed again, warm and unguarded, and he glanced at her lips once more. This time, she caught him.
And he didn't look away fast enough.
Her breath hitched.
The moment stretched between them like a thread pulled tight.
She shoved her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. "You're different here."
Cassian blinked. "Different how?"
"I don't know… lighter. Softer. Less CEO, more human."
He considered that. "Maybe it's the trees."
She nudged him. "I'm serious."
"I know. I just don't know how to explain it. Out here, I'm not Cassian Hayes, ruthless mogul. I'm just Cassian. Who once got stung by a bee trying to impress a girl with a flower crown."
Sienna burst into laughter. "Oh no. Please tell me there are pictures."
"There better not be."
They kept walking, slower now. Neither of them in a rush. The path twisted through flowering trees and winding hedges, soft with moonlight.
"I never thought I'd see this version of you," she said.
"Which one?"
"The one who lets himself be… known."
His voice dipped, quiet. "You've always known me, Sienna."
Her heart stopped.
He wasn't wrong. She did know him—in spreadsheets and scheduling, in stress and triumph. In the flickers between all the noise.
But now, in this moment… she was seeing him.
Really seeing him.
And that was worse.
Because now, she could feel every inch of space between them.
Because now, when he laughed, she wanted to touch his cheek.
Because now, when he looked at her with that barely-contained something in his eyes, she didn't feel powerful. She felt undone.
Cassian slowed beside her, pausing again under a large tree with strings of lights coiled through its branches. The golden glow cast soft shadows on his face.
He looked like he wanted to say something.
So did she.
But neither did.
The tension curled tight in the space between them, thrumming like electricity.
She swallowed. "We're not in a relationship."
"No," he said softly.
"Feels like we are."
"I know."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
And he didn't move.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't say what hovered there between them.
But the look in his eyes—the one that fell to her mouth, then back to her eyes, then back to her mouth again—was loud enough to be a confession.
They didn't kiss.
But it was a near thing.
And they both knew it.
So they kept walking, the silence around them weighted, the air charged.
And Sienna knew, with a kind of terrifying clarity, that she was falling in love with him.
And she wasn't sure she'd survive it.