Chapter 99: Selfish

NOAH

I stood there, the weight of the last twelve hours pressing down on me, but I refused to buckle. I had watched him through the crack of a door; I had heard him dismiss my very existence. Now, standing in this sterile, locked room, I was determined to be the stone he couldn’t break.

Cassian pushed off the desk, his movements fluid and predatory. He stepped closer, the heat radiating from him like a physical force. “There it is,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice tight. I held my ground, though every instinct told me to put a table between us.

“Yes, you do.” His voice dropped an octave, becoming that low, intimate vibration that usually made my heart skip—but today, it only made my blood boil. “You’re pissed at me. And you’re using Alex to get under my skin. It’s a transparent play, Noah.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me, Noah,” he interrupted, moving even closer, invading my space until I could see the golden sparks of irritation in his irises. “You’re terrible at it. Your face gives away everything you’re trying to hide.”

I stepped back, my spine hitting the cold surface of the conference table. “If that’s all, I should get back to those notes you were so desperate for.”

As I turned to reach for my tablet, his hand shot out, fingers clamping firmly around my wrist. The contact was electric, a jolt of unwanted heat.

“We’re not done,” he hissed.

I tried to pull away, my pulse spiking where his thumb pressed against my skin. “Let go, Cassian.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on,” he countered, his grip tightening just enough to ensure I couldn’t escape without a struggle. “One minute you’re the perfect, silent assistant, and the next you’re playing house with Hendrix. What changed?”

I looked up at him, my eyes finally flashing with the fire I’d been suppressing all morning. The “distraction” was tired of being handled. “Nothing is going on,” I spat, my voice trembling with the effort to stay composed. “You’re imagining things, Cassian. Maybe you’re just not used to people having a life that doesn’t revolve entirely around your ego.”

The air in the small conference room was stagnant, smelling of floor wax and the ozone of the cooling projector. Outside that locked door, the world was moving toward a Michelin-starred lunch and billion-euro acquisitions, but inside, the atmosphere had thickened into something suffocating.

Cassian’s hand was a vice around my wrist. The heat of his palm seeped through the sleeve of my suit, a branding iron reminder of who held the power in this room.

“I warned you. Multiple times. To stay away from Alex,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that usually made my knees weak.

I didn’t let it work. Not today. I didn’t flinch, didn’t look down. I pulled against his grip, my feet planted firmly on the plush carpet. “So?”

“So?” Cassian’s eyes darkened, the blue of them turning into the color of a stormy sea. “I won that competition to keep him away from you. I went over that fence. I got injured doing it.” His voice went tight, vibrating with a raw, jagged edge I’d never heard before. “And you’re throwing it back in my face like it was nothing. Like the effort was a joke.”

He did get hurt. I saw the blood on his shirt; I saw the way he winced when he thought I wasn’t looking. But he didn’t do it for me. He didn’t risk his life because he cared if I was safe. He did it because his ego is a black hole that consumes everything in its path. He couldn’t handle the idea of Alex Hendrix “winning” a piece of property that had Cassian Wolfe’s name stamped on the deed. This isn’t about protection. It’s about a scorecard.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I said, my voice as cold and flat as the marble tiles in the lobby.

Cassian went still. The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush. His expression shifted, the irritation vanishing, replaced by something much darker, much more clinical. He leaned in, his shadow stretching over me, eclipsing the light from the hallway.

“You’re so fucking eager to cling to anyone who shows you the slightest bit of kindness, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a soft, venomous purr.

My chest tightened. The breath caught in my throat.

“You’re pathetic, Noah. Desperate for attention. For validation.” He leaned closer, so close I could see the golden flecks of fury in his pupils. “Alex smiles at you, says a few nice words, and suddenly you’re ready to throw everything away. You’re easy. Too trusting. Too fucking naïve for your own good.”

The words hit me like a physical slap to the face.

Pathetic. Desperate. Easy.

The insults burned. My stomach twisted into a knot of hot, oily nausea, and heat crawled up the back of my neck, staining my skin. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, a frantic, rhythmic thudding that screamed at me to run, to apologize, to shrink back into the “distraction” he wanted me to be.

But then, I remembered the hallway. I remembered the crack in the door. I remembered him telling Cyan I was nothing special, that I was just a toy he’d discard when the novelty wore off.

No. Not this time.

I forced a smile. It was a small, bitter thing that didn’t reach my eyes. “You know what? I’ve been trying to figure something out.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed slightly, his grip on my wrist loosening just a fraction out of pure confusion. “What?”

“Why you hate Alex so much,” I said.

“Noah, ” he started, his voice a warning growl.

“Cut the shit, Cassian,” I snapped, the fire finally breaking through my professional mask. “At first, I thought maybe it was professional. Business rivals. Competition over the Durant deal. Whatever…”

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