Chapter 78: A new plan

The dining area of the suite was flooded with morning light. It was peaceful, luxurious, and completely at odds with the carnage that had occurred in the bedroom hours prior.

Cassian was already there.

He was sitting at the table, looking like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His hair was perfectly styled, his button-down shirt was crisp and white, and he was calmly reading something on his phone while sipping coffee. He didn’t look like a man who had spent the night using ice cubes and BDSM toys. He looked like a god-tier CEO who had never had a stray thought in his life.

He looked up as I entered.

His gaze was slow. Deliberate. He started at my bare feet, moved up the baggy sweatpants, lingered on the oversized shirt that showed off my neck, and finally landed on my face. A small, infuriatingly satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he said. His voice was smooth, pleasant, and devoid of any of the gravelly intensity of the night before.

“Morning,” I mumbled. I didn’t look at him. I navigated the floor with the grace of a man walking on eggshells and sat down in the chair opposite him. I tried to sit down normally, but as soon as my weight hit the cushion, I winced.

Cassian set his coffee down. He leaned back, his eyes tracking my every move. “Did you follow my instructions, Noah?”

I finally looked at him. I met his gaze with all the defiant energy of a cornered cat. “No.”

He raised a single, dark eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” I repeated, crossing my arms over my chest. Big mistake. My pec muscles screamed. I didn’t let my expression change. “I’m not doing that. I’m done being your science experiment for the week.”

Cassian didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked… entertained. He tilted his head, studying the way his shirt hung off my shoulder. “You’re not.”

“Nope.”

The silence stretched between us. It was a standoff. In one corner, a billionaire criminal mastermind with a penchant for silk restraints. In the other, a hungover assistant in oversized pants who had reached his limit.

“Interesting,” Cassian finally said, taking a sip of his coffee. “And why not?”

I leaned forward, my voice deadpan. “Because I have a shred of dignity left and I’d like to keep it. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m legally dead from the waist down. If you want something vibrating in this room, you can put it in your own coffee.”

Cassian actually laughed. It wasn’t his usual dry chuckle; it was a real, genuine laugh that reached his eyes. “A shred?”

“Don’t,” I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t start. I am in a very fragile state, Cassian. I could burst into tears or commit a felony at any moment. It’s a fifty-fifty toss-up.”

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he noted, his eyes trailing over the grey fabric.

“Mine smelled like a nightclub and regret and I’m too lazy to go to my own room to get new clothes” I snapped. “So consider this a rental fee for my emotional stability.”

“They look good on you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

I felt my face heat up. Damn it. “Shut up. Where’s the food? If I don’t get anything in the next three minutes, I’m going to start eating the furniture.”

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. Room service arrived with a cart of silver trays. Cassian must have ordered everything on the menu while I was in the shower. Waffles, eggs, bacon, fruit, fresh pastries.

The waiter set the plates down and left. I immediately grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite.

Mistake.

My jaw gave a sharp twinge of protest. I chewed slowly, painfully, my eyes watering slightly. Cassian, of course, didn’t miss a thing.

“Throat still sore?” he asked casually, cutting into his omelet.

I choked on my toast. I hacked into my napkin, my face turning a shade of pink that matched Cyan’s hair. I glared at him through watery eyes. “I hate you. I actually hate you.”

“You didn’t seem to hate me last night,” he said. “In fact, as I recall, you were very vocal about how much you wanted me.”

Ah. I’m going to shoot myself. Somebody hand me a gun. I can’t do this anymore.

“I was drunk!” I hissed, leaning across the table as much as my sore body would allow. “And I was… I was having a moment! It doesn’t count!”

“And high on adrenaline,” Cassian added, his gaze piercing. “And desperate for my attention. Which, as you can see, you now have.”

He paused, leaning forward slightly.

“You wanted to see the Wolf, Noah. You poked the cage until I came out. Don’t complain about the teeth after the fact.”

I slumped back in my chair, muttering into my coffee. “Yeah, well, mission accomplished. I’m sufficiently traumatized. Happy now?”

“Very,” he said, and the sheer smugness in his voice made me want to throw a croissant at him.

I stared at him, watching him eat with perfect poise, and I realized something. He thought he’d won. He thought that by breaking me down last night, he’d re-established the hierarchy. He thought I was back to being the obedient little assistant who would jump when he snapped his fingers.

Oh, you have no idea.

I had a new plan. A petty, glorious plan.

Step 1: Refuse all commands. If he told me to sit, I’d stand. If he told me to wear the plug, I’d throw it in the trash.

Step 2: Be as difficult as humanly possible.

Step 3: Make him work for every single smile, every single look, and every single touch.

Step 4: Drive him as insane as he drove me.

Cassian reached across the table, his hand moving toward mine. It was a possessive gesture, a claim.

I pulled my hand away before he could touch me, reaching for the jam instead.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. The satisfied smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of sharp irritation. “Noah.”

“What?” I asked innocently, spreading strawberry jam on my toast with exaggerated care.

“Don’t start.”

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