Chapter 1

Then Cassian opened his arms to me out of habit.

In the past, whenever we fought, all he had to do was open his arms. I'd give in, lean into his chest, and let him kiss me.

But this time I stood where I was, staying completely still.

His arms hung in the air for two seconds before he casually dropped them and went back to flipping through the files on the table.

"Also, the wedding next month..."

He raised his left hand, palm facing me, shushing me.

Then he tapped the black earpiece in his ear and mouthed the words:

"Go back to your room. I'll make it up to you when I'm done with this."

I watched him lower his eyes again and swallowed the rest of my sentence.

The walk-in closet was at the end of the hallway. That walk felt endless.

I pulled my suitcase out from the back and folded my clothes into it one by one. My hand brushed against the custom suit at the very back of the closet. I'd given it to him last year.

When he was officially made Underboss last year, I helped design and tailor it for him myself.

The day I handed it to him, he pinned me against the full-length mirror and kissed me breathless.

"I love it. You always have the best taste."

But now, the garment bag was still zipped shut. Even the pins securing the collar hadn't been removed.

How ironic. When he said he loved it, he had no idea what it even looked like inside.

A low chuckle suddenly came from the study down the hall.

"Casino accounts can give you a headache too?"

It was Paige on the other end of the line.

She seemed to be whining about something minor. Cassian let out a light laugh. "Getting worked up over something this small? If you mess it up, you'll just come crying to me again."

I forced a smile and pushed the suit back into place.

By the time I finished packing, it was past one in the morning.

Carrying my pajamas, I walked to the master bedroom door and pushed down the handle.

The door was locked from the inside. This wasn't the first time.

Cassian always claimed it was a hard habit to break in his line of work.

The first time I was locked out, I banged on the door for ages.

He cracked the door open, pulled me in, and pinned me to the mattress. He kissed my earlobe, his voice husky as he said he'd forgotten and promised it wouldn't happen again.

The next few times I got locked out, I'd just call his cell.

Then he said a ringing phone interrupted his reports and caused trouble. So I stopped calling.

I stood at the door for a moment, turned back to the closet to grab a thin cashmere blanket, and carried it to the guest room.

Only a single wall separated the guest room from the master bedroom.

Just as I curled up on the small bed, I heard his gentle voice through the wall. "He didn't touch his food again tonight?"

Paige's whining came through the wall, a bit muffled, and he listened with endless patience.

"Did you feed him too much jerky this afternoon?"

After a brief pause, he chuckled again.

"He broke your crystal glass and you didn't have the heart to scold him? Keep spoiling him like this, and he'll be running the house soon."

I pulled the cashmere blanket up over my shoulders.

The casual chat in the next room went on with no sign of ending.

I tapped my phone screen awake, opened the out-of-state rental listings I'd saved, and sent tour requests to the landlords one by one.