Chapter 6: A New Toy

CASSIAN

I walked out of the VIP room, adjusting my coat with one hand while the faint taste of smoke still lingered on my tongue.

The bass from the club pounded through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat that refused to quit. I made my way down the corridor, past the velvet ropes and the glossy-eyed partygoers who parted like the Red Sea the moment they saw me coming.

They always did.

People hovered, as usual. Smiling. Laughing too loud. Trying to catch my eye, my attention, my interest. A woman in a dress that cost more than most people’s monthly rent brushed past me, trailing her fingers along my arm.

“Leaving so soon?” she purred.

I didn’t even look at her.

“Yes.”

Her smile faltered, but I was already gone.

Outside, the air was cooler. Cleaner. The kind of cold that bit at your skin and reminded you that you were still alive, even when you didn’t particularly want to be.

My guards were waiting by the car, as always. One of them opened the door without a word. I slid into the backseat, and the door shut behind me with a quiet, expensive thunk.

I reached into my coat and pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between my fingers before lighting it. The flame flickered once, then caught. I inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs, and exhaled slowly through my nose.

And that’s when my mind flickered back to him.

The drunk.

The reckless, wide-eyed, absolutely adorable little fool who had the audacity to punch me in the face.

For a woman.

A woman who left him for me, apparently. Not that I remembered which one. They all blurred together after a while. Faces. Names. Empty promises whispered in dim lighting. I entertained a few when I was bored. Declined most. Forgot all of them.

But him?

I doubted I’d forget him anytime soon.

I reached into my coat again and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open with one hand. Noah Bennett. Twenty-six. Green eyes that looked perpetually startled, like a deer caught in headlights.

I skimmed past his cards, his cash, pathetic, barely enough for a cab and stopped at his work ID.

My lips twitched.

XUM Mega-Corporation.

The same company my father controlled. The same company I was about to be shoved into like a spare part no one wanted but couldn’t throw away.

I chuckled, low and dark, shaking my head.

“Well, well,” I murmured to myself. “Things just got interesting.”

“Sir?” my driver’s voice cut through my thoughts. His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. “Is something wrong?”

I exhaled another thick plume of smoke, watching it curl and dissipate in the dim interior light.

“No,” I said, sliding the wallet back into my coat. “I think I just caught myself a new toy to play with.”

The driver didn’t respond. He knew better.

I leaned back in my seat, letting the leather cradle me as I took another drag.

“Take me to the estate,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

The car purred to life, and we pulled away from the club, leaving the chaos and the noise behind.

***

The Wolfe estate loomed ahead like a monument to excess.

Sprawling grounds. Manicured gardens. Waterfalls that served no purpose other than to remind you how much money could buy. Guards stationed at every corner, armed and stone-faced, watching everything and nothing at once.

The car pulled up to the main mansion, sitting at the center of it all like a crown jewel no one was allowed to touch.

I stepped out before the driver could open my door.

Inside, the air smelled like money and misery.

I made my way through the marble halls, my footsteps echoing against the high ceilings. Voices drifted from the sitting room, high-pitched and grating.

I turned the corner and found her.

Seraphina. My stepmother.

She was perched on a velvet settee like a queen holding court, surrounded by her gaggle of equally vapid friends. They were all laughing, sipping champagne, talking about God knows what. Probably the latest charity gala or whose husband was screwing the help.

I walked past them without a word.

“Cassian.”

Her voice cut through the room like a knife.

I stopped. Slowly, I turned.

She was standing now, wine glass in hand, her expression carefully composed into something that might’ve passed for politeness if you didn’t know better.

“Have you lost your manners?” she asked, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

I tilted my head, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile.

“I prefer to ask if I’ve lost my mind,” I said evenly. “Since I’d have to be insane to waste time exchanging pleasantries with you.”

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Not in front of her friends.

I turned to leave.

“You can’t see your father right now,” she said sharply. “He’s finalizing a deal with Preston. You’d be interrupting.”

I didn’t stop walking.

“Cassian—”

I pushed open the door to my father’s study without knocking.

Inside, Preston was sitting across from our father, legs crossed, drink in hand, looking every bit the golden son he loved to pretend to be. Documents were sprawled across the desk between them.

They both looked up as I entered.

Preston’s jaw tightened. “Where the hell have you been?”

I leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Out. Having fun. You know, the thing normal people do?”

“Fun.” Preston’s voice was sharp, bitter. “You mean causing trouble. Again. After everything Father just did to get you out of that hellhole.”

I laughed. Cold. Cutting.

“Careful, Preston. Your jealousy is showing.” I pushed off the doorframe and strolled further into the room. “Besides, I think you of all people should understand the concept of fun. Didn’t the grapevine tell me you like to take on multiple women at once? Or was it just one woman and her twin sister? I forget.”

Preston shot to his feet, fists clenched. “You piece of—”

“Enough.”

Our father’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Both of us stopped.

Charles Wolfe didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. One word from him, and you felt it in your bones.

He looked at Preston. “Leave.”

Preston’s jaw worked, his eyes flicking between me and our father. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to lose this moment. But he couldn’t disobey.

Not in front of him.

“Fine,” Preston bit out. He grabbed his coat and stormed past me, slamming his shoulder into mine hard enough to make a point.

I didn’t care.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I turned back to my father and sank into the chair Preston had just vacated, stretching my legs out lazily.

“You summoned me?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Father leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes sharp and calculating.

“I hope you didn’t think I got you out just so you could run around like a spoiled brat,” he said flatly.

I smiled. “Isn’t that what you prefer? Let Preston play the role of the perfect son while I’m the black sheep you can parade around when it’s convenient.”

He ignored my taunt.

Instead, he reached for a thick folder on his desk and slid it across to me.

“I’ve made arrangements,” he said. “You’ll be taking the position of CEO at XUM.”

My smile faltered.

I’d expected this. Of course I had. But hearing it out loud still made my blood boil.

I forced the smile back onto my face. “So this is it, then. You couldn’t wait to get me on your leash.”

He didn’t react.

“You start Monday,” he continued, voice cold and matter-of-fact. “Memorize the operations. Learn the players. Don’t embarrass me.”

I grabbed the folder and stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.

“Anything else, Father?” I asked, venom dripping from the last word.

“Don’t cause a ruckus.”

I laughed bitterly and turned on my heel, storming out without another word.

***

Seraphina and Preston were waiting in the hallway.

Of course they were.

They stopped mid-whisper the moment they saw me, their heads snapping toward me like vultures circling a carcass.

I didn’t slow down.

I walked past them, chin high, smirk firmly in place.

Let them plot. Let them scheme.

It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Outside, the cold air hit me like a slap, and my facade finally cracked.

I shoved the folder at my driver, yanked open the car door, and slammed it shut behind me.

“Fucking old bastard,” I muttered, lighting another cigarette with shaking hands.

The driver glanced at me in the mirror but said nothing.

Smart man.

I leaned my head back against the seat and exhaled a long stream of smoke, watching it curl and fade into nothing.

Monday.

I’d start Monday.

And Noah Bennett?

He’d be there waiting for me.

Whether he knew it or not.

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