Chapter 47: Ridiculous

CASSIAN

I was in the middle of a conversation with a politician whose name I’d already forgotten when I felt it.

The shift.

That instinctive awareness that something in my territory had been disturbed.

My gaze swept across the rooftop, automatic, assessing…

And landed on him.

Hendrix.

Sitting next to Noah.

Too close.

His hand on Noah’s arm.

The politician was still talking… something about zoning regulations, tax incentives… but the words became white noise.

All I could see was Hendrix’s hand.

On Noah’s skin.

Touching what was mine.

The conversation around me continued, oblivious.

Someone laughed.

Someone clinked glasses.

And I watched Alexander Hendrix lean closer to Noah, whispering something that made Noah’s face change… surprise, then something darker. Confusion. Maybe fear.

My jaw clenched so hard I felt my teeth grind.

“Mr. Wolfe?”

The politician’s voice cut through the red haze.

I turned to him slowly, forcing my expression into something neutral.

“Excuse me,” I said, voice flat. “Something requires my attention.”

I didn’t wait for a response, I just turned and started walking.

The crowd parted instinctively as I crossed the rooftop in long, measured strides.

People saw me coming and moved. Some unconsciously. Some very deliberately.

By the time I reached their table, Hendrix was still talking, still leaning in too close, his hand still resting on Noah’s forearm like he had any fucking right to touch him.

I stopped directly behind Noah’s chair. My hand came down on his shoulder firmly and possessively.

Fingers pressing into muscle hard enough to feel bone beneath.

“Bennett.”

My voice came out cold. Controlled. But underneath, something was simmering.

Something dangerous.

Noah jerked slightly under my grip, startled. Hendrix, on the other hand, didn’t move.

Didn’t remove his hand.

Just looked up at me with that same warm, perfect smile.

All teeth.

“Cassian,” he said pleasantly. “I was just keeping Noah company. You left him all alone.”

“He’s fine.” My jaw was tight, each word clipped. “He doesn’t need company.”

“Doesn’t he?” Hendrix’s tone was light, almost playful. But there was steel underneath. “He seemed a little lonely.”

The air between us crackled like lightning.

I could feel Noah tense under my hand, his shoulder rigid, breathing shallow.

But I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t take my eyes off Hendrix.

“He’s my assistant,” I said quietly, each word precise. “Not yours.”

“Of course.” Hendrix’s smile didn’t waver. “I was just being friendly. Surely you don’t have a problem with that?”

Friendly.

Right.

I stepped closer.

Not much.

Just enough.

Enough to close the distance between us until the space felt charged. Dangerous.

Like two predators sizing each other up before a fight.

“Stay away from him,” I said, voice dropping low enough that only the three of us could hear.

Hendrix’s smile sharpened.

“Or what?”

He still hadn’t removed his hand from Noah’s arm.

My grip on Noah’s shoulder tightened until I felt him flinch beneath my fingers.

“I was in the middle of a sentence, Wolfe. Surely whatever it is could have waited sixty seconds.” Alex continued.

“Nothing concerning him waits,” I said flatly.

Hendrix leaned back slightly, studying me with those warm brown eyes that were anything but warm right now.

“Possessive streak showing tonight?” he asked lightly. “Careful, Wolfe. Some people might mistake that for fear.”

I leaned down.

Just slightly.

Close enough that my voice carried only to him.

“I don’t fear losing what’s already mine,” I said, each word deliberate. “I simply remove hands that don’t belong.”

The threat hung in the air between us.

Clear.

Unmistakable.

For a long moment, Hendrix held my gaze.

Then, finally, he lifted his hand from Noah’s arm.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

But instead of backing down, he reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.

Matte black.

He slid it into the breast pocket of Noah’s suit with agonizing slowness, fingers brushing against Noah’s chest as he did.

“For when you want a conversation that isn’t monitored,” Hendrix said softly, eyes still locked on mine. “No leashes attached.”

Something inside me snapped.

My grip on Noah’s shoulder became painful.

My other hand twitched at my side, knuckles whitening as I fought the urge to grab Hendrix by the throat and…

Control.

You’re in public.

Witnesses everywhere.

Cameras.

I forced my voice to stay quiet. Calm.

“Touch him again, Hendrix,” I said, so soft it was terrifying, “and I’ll break more than your deal.”

Hendrix stood slowly, rising to his full height until we were eye-to-eye.

Only inches apart now.

Close enough that I could see the flecks of brown in his eyes. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Threats already?” He smiled. “And here I thought you preferred to buy your way out of problems.”

He let his gaze flick down to Noah… just for a second… then back up to me, mockingly and deliberately.

“Though I suppose some things can’t be bought,” he continued, voice dripping with false sympathy. “They have to be earned.”

I stepped forward.

Half a step.

But it closed the distance until our chests nearly brushed.

The string quartet faltered… just one missed note… but I heard it.

Nearby guests pretended not to stare, conversations dying around us as people sensed the tension.

“Earned?” I let out a soft, dangerous laugh. “I don’t earn what I own.”

Hendrix’s smile never wavered.

“That’s the difference between us, then.” His voice was still light. Still pleasant. “I don’t need to own anything. People choose me.”

The words were designed to cut.

And they did.

“I… uh… maybe we should… ” Noah’s voice, small and strained, tried to interject.

We both ignored him.

Locked in a stare that felt like it could ignite the air between us.

A senior investor appeared at the edge of my vision, approaching hesitantly.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “The photographer would love a shot of our two visionaries together… ”

“Another time,” I said without breaking eye contact.

Hendrix was the first to step back.

Barely.

More like a predator choosing not to strike in front of witnesses than an actual concession.

He raised his champagne flute in a mock toast.

“To interesting nights, then.”

His eyes slid to Noah one last time, lingering deliberately.

“And even more interesting choices.”

Then he turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving me standing there with my hand still clamped on Noah’s shoulder and fury coursing through my veins.

I didn’t let go of Noah.

Just guided him… dragged him… through the crowd toward the far edge of the rooftop where a secluded balcony overlooked the city.

Away from witnesses.

Away from cameras.

Somewhere I could breathe without feeling like I was about to commit murder in front of about a hundred people.

I released his shoulder only when we were alone, the noise of the gala muffled behind us.

Noah stumbled slightly, catching himself against the railing.

I turned to face him.

He wouldn’t look at me.

Just stared out at the city lights, shoulders tense, breathing uneven.

“What did he say to you?” I asked, voice flat.

“Nothing,” Noah said too quickly. “We just… we were just talking… ”

“About what.”

Not a question.

A demand.

Noah’s jaw tightened. “About… work. And… and family stuff. That’s all.”

He was lying.

Not outright.

But he wasn’t telling me everything either.

I could see it in the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes. The way his hands gripped the railing too tight. The way his voice wavered just slightly on the word “all.”

What did Hendrix tell him?

What poison did he plant?

I wanted to push.

Wanted to grab Noah by the jaw and force the truth out of him.

But something stopped me.

Maybe it was the way he was standing… small, defensive, like he expected me to lash out.

Maybe it was the faint tremor in his hands.

Or maybe it was the look on his face when Hendrix had been touching him.

That brief moment of hope.

Of warmth.

Like he’d forgotten, just for a second, that people like us didn’t deserve kindness.

I forced myself to take a breath.

“Stay close,” I said finally, voice controlled. “We’re leaving soon.”

Noah nodded quickly, still not looking at me.

I turned away, leaning against the railing, staring out at the city.

This is ridiculous.

You’re being ridiculous.

The rational part of my brain knew that.

Knew I was acting like a territorial animal over something… someone… I had no real claim to beyond a contract and blackmail.

Noah wasn’t mine.

Not really.

He was an arrangement. A convenience. A toy I’d decided to keep for my own amusement.

That’s all.

So why did watching Hendrix touch him feel like watching someone try to steal something that belonged to me?

Because he’s playing a game, I told myself. And you know it.

Hendrix wasn’t interested in Noah for Noah’s sake.

He was interested because I was interested.

Because touching Noah was a way to get under my skin.

To challenge me. To prove he could take what was mine.

That’s all this was. A power play. So why does it feel like more?

I shoved the thought away violently.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was keeping Noah away from Hendrix.

Keeping him close. Keeping him safe.

Safe from what?

From Hendrix.

From himself.

From you?

I gritted my teeth, jaw clenching.

Enough.

“Let’s go,” I said abruptly, turning back toward the gala.

Noah followed without a word.

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