MasukCassidy’s POV When we finally stepped out of Dad’s room, the door clicking shut softly behind us, the sound felt heavier than it should have—like it marked the end of something sacred and fragile. I paused for half a second in the hallway, my hand still wrapped around Dante’s, my fingers curled into the warmth of his palm as if letting go might unravel whatever fragile steadiness I’d managed to build inside that room.I felt wrung out, but not hollow.Not shattered.Just… gently emptied, the way you feel after crying so hard there’s nothing left but quiet.Hope was dangerous. I knew that. It had teeth. It could turn on you without warning.But it walked beside me anyway, light-footed and stubborn, matching my steps down the long hospital corridor.The fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead. A gurney rattled past us somewhere behind. Nurses murmured in low, practiced tones. Life continuing—efficient, clinical, indifferent to how monumental every breath felt to me right now.Dante
Cassidy’s POV Sleep held me in its gentle grasp, deep and dreamless, the kind that comes after emotional storms and physical release, leaving me floating in a haze of contentment. The rom-com's end credits must have looped into silence sometime in the night, the TV screen now a dim blue glow in the darkened living room, casting faint shadows across the couch where we lay entwined. Dante's arm was still draped over my waist, heavy and protective, his breath steady and warm against the back of my neck, our bodies molded together under the blanket like puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. The house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside—cars whispering on the street, a far-off siren fading into nothing. For a moment, I didn't move, savoring the peace, the way his heartbeat synced with mine through his chest pressed to my back, a rhythmic reminder that I wasn't alone in this.But morning light crept in gradually, sneaking through the curtains in pale golden shafts t
Cassidy’s POV "Feeling better?" he murmured, lips brushing my ear, voice husky, sending a thrill straight to my core. "Much," I whispered, my voice breathy as I turned fully toward him, our faces inches apart, the heat from his body seeping through the blanket like an invitation. The rom-com's dialogue faded into background noise, the silly punchlines no match for the tension coiling between us, thick and electric. His fingers continued their lazy exploration along my arm, tracing up to my shoulder, then down again, each pass igniting sparks that traveled straight to my core, making me shift restlessly against him. The blanket slipped slightly, exposing the curve of my collarbone, and his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they followed the movement. "Good," he replied, his lips brushing my ear again, the warmth of his breath sending shivers cascading down my spine. His hand moved from my arm to my thigh, fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of my jeans, thumb pressing ju
Cassidy’s POV Dinner came together quickly, but Dante made it feel like an event, his movements in the kitchen a blend of efficiency and flair that always reminded me of how he tackled boardrooms—focused, deliberate, with that undercurrent of passion simmering beneath. The pasta boiled in a large pot on the stove, bubbles rising furiously as the water churned, releasing steam that carried the faint salty tang into the air. He stirred the sauce in a separate pan, the rich tomato base bubbling gently, infused with garlic he'd minced with expert chops, the sharp, pungent aroma mingling with fresh basil he'd torn by hand, leaves bruising under his fingers to release their herbal brightness. Parmesan waited on a grater nearby, a wedge of aged cheese ready to be shredded into snowy flakes over the top. I watched from my perch on the stool, wine glass in hand, the deep red liquid swirling as I tilted it, catching the candlelight I'd lit on the table—tapers in simple holders, their flames
Cassidy’s POV I stared at my phone screen, Dante's words glowing back at me like a lifeline in the dim hospital room, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh, sterile pallor over everything. “Coming. Be there in 20. Love you—hold on.” My thumb hovered over the reply button, a mix of gratitude and exhaustion washing over me, but I managed a quick: “Love you too. Room 412.” Then I set it down, turning back to Dad, his hand still limp in mine, the steady beep of the heart monitor a monotonous reminder that he was here, fighting in his silent way. The room smelled of antiseptic and faint latex from the gloves the nurses used, the air cool and dry, sucking the moisture from my skin. Outside the window, the city skyline was starting to light up against the encroaching dusk, buildings twinkling like artificial stars—nothing like the real ones we'd gazed at last night, raw and unfiltered.I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the bed rail, the metal cold against my arms through my s
Cassidy's POV He leaned back, coffee in hand, eyes lighting up with that strategic gleam I loved, the one that showed the sharp mind behind the charm. “Tech startup with killer AI for logistics. Synergies with our supply chain—could cut delivery times by 30%. But the founder's stubborn—wants equity guarantees up front, no strings. I'll counter with performance milestones: hit targets, get the shares. High stakes, but if it lands, we're golden. Expands us into new markets, maybe even international. Nervous? A bit. But excited too—feels like the early days, building something big.”“Sounds intense,” I replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine, our fingers lacing naturally. “But you've got this. You're the guy who turned a garage idea into an empire, remember? The one who outmaneuvered competitors twice your size. This is just another chapter. And if it gets rocky, call me—I'll be your hype woman. 'Go Dante, crush those milestones!'”He inte







