Cassian sat in the back garden alone.
She had gone ahead first—murmured something about being too sleepy, rubbing her eyes like a girl who'd just barely made it through the day. He'd nodded, said he'd follow, but he hadn't moved. Couldn't. Not when minutes ago, right outside the forest, he'd had her lips under his, her body pressed to his. He didn't want to walk into that room with the echo of her sighs still in his head, not when everything inside him was one misstep away from losing control again.
A half-drunk bottle of beer dangled from his fingers, sweat from the glass soaking the ring of his shirt. The night was cool, scented with pine and lake water, the quiet hum of crickets filling the space where his thoughts screamed.
What the fuck had just happened?
He leaned back on the bench, stared up at the sky—at stars scattered like dust, blinking at him like they knew. Like they were judging him.
He'd kissed her.
Really kissed her.
And it wasn't lust. That was the worst part. It would've been easier—safer—if it had been.
God knows they'd already crossed too many lines. She'd licked his hands in his office. Licked his body and yeah, dick once too, even if it had been under the pretense of... whatever the hell they'd told themselves. And yes, he'd fingered her on his damn couch and made her come so hard she bit his shoulder to muffle it. They talked. They agreed. They said they'd stop. Pull back.
This was not pulling back.
This was not casual, not teasing, not a touch in passing or the sweet thrill of watching her squirm in a meeting because she knew what his hands could do.
This had been a kiss.
And not just a kiss—the kiss. The kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant. That swallowed thought. That made him forget where they were, who they were, what rules they were supposed to be following.
He'd kissed her like he wanted to build a life around the sound she made when he did.
Cassian dragged a hand over his face.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Sienna Caldwell was supposed to be his assistant. His terrifyingly competent, endlessly professional, secretly sarcastic, sometimes infuriating assistant. She was supposed to be the one constant in his mess of a world—the person who didn't get involved. Who kept things functional.
And now he'd kissed her like she belonged to him.
He stared at his hand, still remembering how she felt under it. How soft she was. How real.
And how she let him.
She didn't stop it.
She leaned into it. Kissed him back like she wanted him to never stop. Like she meant it.
Which made this even worse.
He took a long pull from his beer, nearly finishing it.
They had to go home.
They had to end this.
The forest. The stars. The firelight in her eyes. The fucking swimsuit. Her laugh.
It had gotten too real.
Too dangerous.
Cassian set the beer down on the stone step beside him and buried his face in his hands.
They were leaving first thing tomorrow.
He barely heard the soft steps on the gravel path behind him until his mother's voice broke the silence.
"There you are."
Cassian didn't move. "Here I am."
Margo sat down beside him, her own glass of wine in hand, and took in the night air.
"I came to remind you of the itinerary tomorrow. Breakfast at eight. Brunch by the lake around ten. Then a little farewell lunch with the family before everyone drives back."
He nodded once. "Thanks."
She studied him for a long moment. "You've been quiet."
"I'm just tired."
She hummed like she didn't believe him, sipped her wine, then added casually, "Sienna's lovely, by the way."
Cassian groaned. "Please, not now."
"She's sharp. Graceful. A little shy but very warm. And I've never seen you look so… soft."
He gave her a look. "You make it sound like I've turned into a poet."
"You've turned into someone who listens more. Who smiles when she walks into the room. Who blushes like a schoolboy when she looks at you too long."
"Mom..."
"I'm just saying," she said lightly. "She'd make a beautiful daughter-in-law."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "Mom. You know we're just acting."
"I know."
She turned and gave him a sly smile. "You're just very good at it. Almost too good."
He exhaled hard. "You're not helping."
"No, I imagine I'm not." She leaned back. "But I'm your mother. It's my job to point out when you're clearly falling for someone and trying very hard to pretend you're not."
"I'm not falling—"
"Cassian."
He stopped.
He said nothing.
She patted his hand. "It's okay to want something different. Even if it's scary. Especially if it's her."
He stared at the darkness. "We're going back tomorrow as soon as we can get ready."
"I thought the plan was Monday?"
"I have an emergency meeting. Can't wait."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "I see."
He didn't look at her.
But she didn't push. Just sipped her wine. "Well. Tell Sienna I'll miss her. If you're going that early, I will probably not be awake."
"She'll appreciate that."
"I'm sure she will."
"Oh, and ask your cousin in the morning—Camille. She mentioned she needs to head back too. Said something about her boyfriend waiting in the city. Maybe you can all leave together."
Margo stood, brushed her hands off gently, and left him there with only the stars.
Eventually, Cassian rose too. He went inside quietly, took the back stairs up, and moved through the hall like a ghost.
When he entered their shared room, the light from the bathroom was still glowing. He grabbed his clothes and showered quickly, letting the hot water scald away whatever was left of the night's ache.
When he stepped out, towel around his waist, hair wet, the room was dim. She lay in bed already, turned away from him, breathing steady.
Pretending.
He could tell by the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand curled too deliberately under her cheek.
He didn't call her out on it.
He didn't say anything at all.
He just slipped into bed beside her, leaving a respectful space, and stared at the ceiling.
They were in deep shit.
And morning couldn't come fast enough.
Before another kiss made it impossible to walk away.
The soft rustle of morning filtered in through the curtains, accompanied by birdsong and distant clinks of breakfast being set on the veranda below.
Sienna stirred, groggy and far too aware of her body, her mind, and every stupid thing she'd felt the night before. She rolled over—and startled slightly.
Cassian was already awake, fully dressed in jeans and a plain black shirt, seated on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee in his hand.
He glanced at her, then back into his coffee. "We need to go home now. Someone from the board needs an in-person sit-down first thing Monday. They want to review the numbers and the Crane deal before the quarterly reports go out."
"You didn't mention it."
"Yeah, yeah.... ummm...I got the call late last night."
She paused, processing that, then moved slowly to stand. "Okay."
He nodded. "Mom said to say goodbye. Everyone else is out on the front lawn. It's like a farewell parade out there."
"Of course it is."
She got up wordlessly and moved into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her, and only then did she let herself exhale.
The water was too hot. She let it scald her anyway, watching steam curl against the mirror, her thoughts drifting wildly—tangled in the softness of his voice, the look on his face when he said they were leaving.
This was it.
This was him drawing the line. Last night might have blurred everything—the kiss, the way he looked at her like he was never going to be the same—but this morning? This was Cassian Hayes reasserting control.
Going home early. Professional excuses. Emergency meetings.
It didn't matter how warm he'd been. It didn't matter that his hands had held her like she meant something. It didn't matter that she'd wanted to believe there was more.
It was his way of ending it.
And she was going to have to act like she hadn't felt it happen.
By the time she stepped out again—clean, changed, and somewhat composed—they were carrying bags to the car.
The front of the house was alive with movement. Cousins hugged her, one after the other. Ren slipped a small plastic-wrapped cookie into her pocket. "For the ride. Don't say I never gave you anything."
June hugged her like they were best friends. "Tell the city we say hi. And Cassian, don't pretend you're not texting her every ten minutes."
"We weren't even gone that long," Sienna laughed.
"Long enough to make it very obvious," Ren added.
Nicole, of course, made her entrance last. In another fitted outfit that screamed subtle desperation, she leaned into Cassian a little too close.
"You're leaving so early?" she asked, batting her lashes. "I was hoping we'd have more time to catch up. You used to stick around longer."
Cassian gave her a polite half-smile. "Plans changed."
"Well... next time then," she said, touching his arm. "You know where to find me."
Sienna pretended to check the car door.
Camille smirked from the other side of the vehicle, already settling into the back seat. "Wow. Riveting display of subtlety. I'm coming with the two of you."
Cassian opened the passenger door for Sienna and Camille.
"Thanks," she murmured, sliding in.
The ride was quiet at first. Just trees blurring past. Gravel roads shifting to pavement. Morning light spilling through the windshield.
Conversation drifted into more mundane territory—weekend plans, work updates, nonsense. It helped. Anchored them back into something that felt more manageable.
When they reached the city, Cassian turned down a familiar street.
Sienna frowned. "You're dropping me off first?"
He nodded, not meeting her eyes. "I figured it's easier that way."
"Oh. Right."
The car slowed to a stop in front of her apartment.
Cassian walked her to the door.
They stood there awkwardly. The city was loud around them. Too loud.
"Thanks for the ride," she said.
He nodded once. "See you at work."
"Yeah. Work."
Neither moved.
And then—she stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind her.
And Cassian stood there for a second longer, jaw tight.
Then he walked away.