Evelina’s POV
I had always been good at reading people.
It was a skill I had learned young—watching my father, sensing the unspoken weight in his words, the tension behind his carefully controlled expressions.
But Cassian Moretti?
He was impossible to read.
He was too composed, too controlled, his every move deliberate. And that made him dangerous.
The office was silent except for the distant hum of the city outside. I could feel him behind me, his presence dark and consuming.
I turned, refusing to let him intimidate me. “You said I should ask my father about you.” I met his gaze head-on. “I did.”
Cassian tilted his head slightly, as if he already knew what I was going to say.
“And?”
“He told me to stay away from you,” I said, searching his face for any reaction. “And then he hung up on me.”
Something flickered in Cassian’s eyes—something dark and satisfied.
“I see,” he murmured. “And that surprises you?”
I crossed my arms. “It shouldn’t. But it does.”
Cassian took a slow step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “And why is that, dolcezza?”
Because my father had never sounded that afraid before.
Because a man like him didn’t fear people.
And yet…
I swallowed hard. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Cassian studied me for a long moment. Then, instead of answering, he moved past me, pouring himself a drink. The quiet clink of ice against glass sent a shiver down my spine.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Evelina,” he said finally, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Are you sure you’re ready for the answers you’re looking for?”
Anger flared in my chest. “Stop talking in riddles.”
Cassian smirked. “But it’s more fun this way.”
I exhaled sharply, frustrated. He was toying with me, enjoying my confusion. But I wasn’t going to let him win.
I stepped closer, closing the space between us. “Tell me why my father is afraid of you,” I demanded. “Tell me why I should be afraid of you.”
Cassian’s smirk faded.
The air shifted.
For the first time since I walked in, his amusement vanished, replaced by something darker.
He set his glass down carefully before turning to face me fully.
“You should be afraid of me, dolcezza,” he murmured, his voice like silk over steel. “Because I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
A chill ran through me. “I’m not yours.”
Cassian’s lips curled at the edges. “Not yet.”
My breath hitched.
Something dangerous gleamed in his eyes, something that sent my heart pounding against my ribs.
I should have walked away. Should have turned on my heel and left.
But I didn’t.
Because despite the warning bells screaming in my mind—
Some part of me wanted to hear what he had to say next.
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YOUR AUTHORI:
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