CASSIAN
I watched as Noah's eyes widened in horror, the color draining from his face like someone had just pulled the plug on his soul.
He stood there, frozen. A deer caught in headlights. A rabbit trapped in a snare.
And God, it was almost comical.
I could see the exact moment reality crashed into him. The exact second his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing. The way his lips parted slightly, like he wanted to speak but forgot how words worked.
I almost laughed.
But I didn't.
Because I knew exactly what was running through his mind right now.
Panic. Terror. The sickening realization that he'd punched his new boss in the face and stolen God knows how many hours of sleep from himself wondering when karma would come knocking.
Well.
Here I was.
Karma in a three-piece suit.
An executive standing near the front, some middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a too-tight tie, immediately stepped forward, wringing his hands like a guilty child.
"Mr. Carter, I—I sincerely apologize for this employee's behavior," he stammered, shooting Noah a sharp glare. "He's usually much more professional, I assure you. This is highly unusual—"
"Is it?" I interrupted, voice smooth and cold.
The man faltered. "I—yes, sir. Very unusual."
I tilted my head, letting my gaze slide lazily from Noah to the executive. "So this is how you let your staff act?"
The man's face turned ashen. "No! No, sir, of course not. I take full responsibility—"
"Do you?"
He practically crumpled under my stare. "Yes, sir. I'm deeply sorry. It won't happen again."
I let the silence stretch.
Let him squirm.
Then I waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure it won't."
The man exhaled in relief, but it was premature.
Because I wasn't interested in him.
I was interested in the trembling mess of a man standing beside him, head bowed low, shoulders hunched, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Noah.
My new toy.
I let my gaze linger on him for a long, deliberate moment. Watching the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The way his jaw tightened. The way he refused to look up, like maybe if he didn't meet my eyes, I'd forget he existed.
Adorable.
"You," I said, voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Follow me to my office."
Noah's head snapped up, eyes wide with barely concealed dread.
I didn't wait for a response.
"Everyone else," I continued, louder now, addressing the room. "Get back to your posts. Now."
The crowd scattered like roaches when the lights turned on.
Everyone fled.
Except Noah.
He stood there, rooted to the spot, looking like a man who'd just been sentenced to death.
I turned on my heel and started walking, not bothering to check if he was following.
He would.
He didn't have a choice.
***
The walk to my office was painfully predictable.
The executive from earlier... I hadn't bothered learning his name yet, scurried alongside me like a loyal dog, rattling off information about operations, quarterly reports, team structures, all while slipping in thinly veiled compliments about his own work ethic.
"...and of course, sir, I've been with the company for over fifteen years. Very dedicated. Very hardworking. I pride myself on—"
I tuned him out.
My attention was on the footsteps behind me.
Slow. Hesitant.
Noah was following, but just barely.
I could feel his anxiety radiating off him in waves.
Good.
We reached the office, a sprawling corner suite with tall glass windows overlooking the city, glossy furniture, and air that reeked faintly of leather and expensive cologne.
I stepped inside, and the executive followed, still talking.
"—always available for consultation, sir. Anytime you need—"
I turned sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"I'm sure you work very hard," I said smoothly.
His face lit up like I'd just handed him a promotion. "Thank you, sir! I really do try my best to—"
"But," I continued, leaning in slightly, voice dropping to a near whisper, "fucking your colleague's wife isn't exactly what I'd call hard work."
The room went silent.
Dead silent.
The executive's face turned ghost-white. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—I don't—"
"Save it."
I straightened, adjusting my cuffs with deliberate slowness, then glanced at the small group of people who'd followed us into the office.
One of them, a junior staff member, was staring at the executive with barely concealed shock.
Ah.
So he heard.
Perfect.
I turned back to the executive, who looked like he was about to pass out.
"Get out," I said simply.
He didn't need to be told twice.
He practically stumbled over himself as he backed out of the room, mumbling apologies under his breath.
I looked at the others. "You too. All of you. Out."
They scattered.
And then there was Noah.
He'd started to move toward the door too, trying to slip out unnoticed like the clever little thing he thought he was.
"If you walk out that door, you might as well forget you ever had a life."
He froze in the doorway, hand still outstretched toward the handle.
I leaned back against my desk, arms crossed, watching him.
"Close the door," I said quietly. "And come here."
For a moment, I thought he might bolt.
But he didn't.
Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned, pulled the door shut with a soft click, and walked forward.
His eyes stayed glued to the floor.
I let him stand there in silence for a moment, just watching him.
His shoulders were tense. His hands clenched into fists. His breathing shallow.
He looked like he was about to fall apart.
I smiled.
"Where did all that ferociousness go?" I asked, voice almost conversational.
He didn't respond.
"You had plenty of fire on Friday night," I continued, tilting my head. "Punching me. Yelling at me. Accusing me of ruining your life. What happened to all that?"
Still nothing.
My smile faded.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't move.
I straightened, pushing off the desk, and took a step toward him.
"Noah."
His name on my lips made him flinch.
"I said," I repeated, voice low and dangerous now, "look. At. Me."
Slowly, so slowly it almost hurt to watch, he lifted his head.
And there they were.
Those wide, frightened green eyes.
The same ones that had looked at me with drunken rage on Friday night.
The same ones that had widened in panic when I pinned him down on that couch.
The same ones that had been etched into my mind ever since.
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could see the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
"There we go," I murmured. "Was that so hard?"
He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.
I let my gaze drag over him slowly. Taking in every detail. The way his hands trembled slightly. The way his chest rose and fell too quickly. The way his lips parted just a fraction, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
"You know why you're here, don't you?" I asked softly.