Yvette’s POV
"I’m full... thanks for the meal." I said softly, pushing my chair back before he could say anything, needing distance more than I needed food.
My nerves were already stretched thin under his gaze.
Cassian had been watching me as if I were a rare specimen he had discovered in a science lab.
Without thinking, I began stacking the plates. Clearing the table. Needing my hands to do something.
"What are you doing?"
My hands froze.
Shit!
I slowly looked up at him, my fingers still curled around the plate.
Cassian was watching me again. There was nothing casual or curious about his gaze.
He was analysing me.
That was when it hit me.
This wasn’t the Swan mansion.
I wasn’t that girl who packed plates, trying to earn scraps of approval.
I forced a small smile, pretending it was nothing. "After Mr Knight fed me, the least I can do is help with the plates."
His expression didn’t soften. If anything, it sharpened further.
"The maids aren’t there for decoration," he said flatly. "That’s their job."
Right.
Of course.
"Oh... okay."
I placed the plate back down slowly, suddenly very aware of everything I had just done and how it must have looked.
Before the silence could stretch any further, the doors opened.
"Cassian, I brought the—" The woman who had just stepped through the doors paused mid-step.
She was beautiful... Not just pretty. She looked polished and composed.
The kind of woman who looked like she belonged in places like this.
Her eyes flicked to me, then back to him. And for some reason—something in my chest tightened.
I didn’t know why.
I didn’t even realise my grip had loosened until—
Crash.
The plate slipped from my hand, shattering against the floor.
The sound rang too loudly in the quiet room, leaving me mortified.
"Don’t move." Cassian’s voice cut through sharply.
But it was already too late. I had stepped back on instinct.
A sharp sting shot through my foot.
I sucked in a shaky breath, freezing in place.
"Don’t move," he repeated.
This time, I listened. I didn’t dare take another step, feeling stupid like a kid caught with her hand stuck in a cookie jar.
The woman didn’t move either. Neither of us spoke as Cassian stood up.
There was no hesitation.
He simply rounded the corner, picked up a dustpan and brush, returned and crouched down.
He cleared the shards quickly and efficiently. like he had done this a hundred times before.
He cleared the shards efficiently, his expression unreadable.
The room felt... strange.
Too quiet.
Too tense.
When he was done, he didn’t say anything.
He just walked toward me.
He then bent slightly and lifted me into his arms. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My breath caught as my arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.
"Um... sir," The woman spoke from behind us, still sounding slightly stunned. "I brought the drafts since you haven’t been in the company. They need your signature."
"Leave it, Selena." Cassian didn’t even slow down.
Selena? Where have I heard that name before?
"I’ll look at it when I’m done with my woman."
My heart skipped. His woman?
"But sir, it’s urgent—"
"Did I stutter?" Cassian’s voice dropped, cold and final.
Silence followed.
He didn’t wait for a response.
He carried me out of the dining hall and up the stairs into his room, his hold firm and unyielding.
I could feel the shift in his emotions right then.
The coldness radiating off him.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t explosive.
But it was there, heavy and crushing.
The door shut behind us, and he set me down on the edge of the bed.
Then he crouched in front of me.
Still silent.
I watched him carefully. "Are you... angry?"
He didn’t answer.
He took my foot into his hand, his fingers wrapping around my ankle, steady and firm.
I watched him as he examined the cut.
His touch was careful, his movements precise, but his expression was unreadable.
He picked up a clean cloth and wiped the blood away.
I flinched slightly.
His grip tightened just a fraction.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to stop me from pulling away.
Then he found it.
A small shard still lodged in my skin. He picked up a pair of tweezers and removed the shard embedded in my skin.
I sucked in a sharp breath, whimpering softly.
"Stay still." He said, voice low and controlled.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t even breathe properly.
Because something told me...
This wasn’t just about the broken plate.
He cleaned the wound, wrapped it, then finally looked up at me.
Those blue eyes locked onto mine with unsettling focus.
"Who drugged you?"
The question came out of nowhere. My fingers tightened against the sheets.
"Huh?... Oh, I don’t know what you—"
"Don’t lie to me."
His tone didn’t rise, but it pressed down on me harder than any shouting ever could.
My throat tightened.
"I really don’t—"
"Why did you choose me?"
I blinked. "What?"
"At the club," he said, standing now, his presence looming over me. "You had options. Ryan was there. Others were there."
His gaze darkened. "You chose me."
My heart started beating faster.
"That doesn’t mean anything—"
"It means everything."
Before I could react, he moved, his movements fast like a predator cornering its prey.
His hands braced on either side of me on the bed, caging me in without quite touching. The air between us thickened instantly.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, heart hammering against my ribs.
"Testing something," he said, his voice low and clinical, almost detached.
"The doctor needs more data on why my vitals stabilise around you. Skin-to-skin contact. Prolonged proximity. It’s necessary."
The doctor? When did he speak to the doctor? But he said it was necessary.
His words sounded reasonable... but the way his eyes darkened as he said it told a different story.
His fingers slid to my wrist, pushing the sleeve of my silk pyjama top up slowly. The moment his bare palm met my skin, I felt something shift in him.
His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose, as if measuring the effect.
"Stay still."
My pulse spiked under his thumb as he pressed lightly against the frantic beat at my wrist.
Then his other hand moved to my waist, warm and deliberate, pulling me closer until our bodies were aligned. Too close.
His breathing grew slightly uneven, the controlled mask cracking, and I didn’t fare any better either.
"...Again," he murmured, almost to himself.
"What?" My voice came out softer and breathier than I intended.
"You fix it." His grip on my waist tightened, fingers pressing into the curve just above my hip. "My body. The noise in my head. The numbness... it stops when you’re this close."
My chest tightened. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch.
He said it was a test, but the way he was looking at me now—eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide—felt far more dangerous.
His free hand slid higher, tracing the bare skin of my arm in slow, intentional strokes, his touch claiming.
Every touch sent little sparks racing through me, pooling low in my belly despite the warning bells screaming in my mind.
"You calm the chaos," he continued, his voice dropping into a rough growl. "No shots. No borrowed feelings. Just you... And I don’t like things I can’t control."
My heart tightened at the way he said it.
His body leaned in further, pinning me more firmly against the edge of the bed, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling, hot and heavy.
"Don’t say another man’s name in front of me again," he warned, the words low and dangerous, laced with raw possession. "Not Nathan. Not anyone. You’re mine now, Isabelle. Every reaction, every breath—it belongs to me."
My stomach twisted with a mix of fear and unwanted heat. "That wasn’t—"
"Don’t," he cut me off with one word, tone final.
His hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw in a touch that felt both tender and threatening.
"I won’t share you... Not even in your thoughts."
The room felt too small, the silence too charged. His body pressed closer, hard and unyielding, the evidence of how much I affected him unmistakable against my thigh.
Cassian’s "test" had spiralled into something out of control, and I wasn’t sure if I could stop it—or if part of me even wanted to.
My mind scrambled for something—anything—to shift the intensity, as his gaze held me captive, burning with a storm I had unknowingly unleashed in him.
"I might’ve called out his name because I’ve been... stressed," I said quickly. "Family things. That’s all."
The moment the words left my mouth. I knew it was a mistake because his eyes sharpened instantly.
"Family?" he repeated.
My stomach dropped.
Before he could press further, the sharp sound of a phone ringing filled the room.
We both froze.
It was my phone.
Cassian’s gaze flicked to the bedside table. Then back to me.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached over and picked it up.
Ryan’s name flashed on the screen.
My heart stopped.