Chapter 35: Sleeping Buddha

Of all the scenarios Elara had played out in her head, she had never imagined seeing Cassian—the unshakable mountain, the man who moved through the world with iron-clad precision—asleep.

The indignant lecture she’d prepared dissolved instantly. She turned back to Vincent with a look of pure, wide-eyed helplessness. Don’t leave me here, her eyes pleaded.

Vincent, however, was a man on a mission. He caught her gaze, offered a swift, apologetic wince that didn't reach his eyes, and promptly shut the door.

Elara’s mouth fell open. The click of the door lock sounded like a gavel in a courtroom.

Outside, Vincent stood with his back to the car, a victorious, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He dusted an invisible speck of lint from his shoulder, feeling like a master strategist.

“The Boss will definitely reward me for this,” he hummed to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered away. “An increment? No, too small. A paid vacation? Somewhere with a beach...”

Inside the car, Elara let out a disbelieving scoff, watching his retreating figure through the tinted glass. She turned back to the "Sleeping Buddha" beside her.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she whispered to the empty air.

With a heavy sigh, she sank back into the plush leather seat. To distract herself from the proximity of the man occupying half her personal space, she pulled out the document Mr. Hanover had given her. She tried to focus on the lines of text, but a throbbing ache began to pulse behind her temples.

The loopholes in the paperwork were a mess; she felt a surge of gratitude that she at least had Hanover’s capable hands steadying the main corporation.

She massaged her temples, her eyes drifting back to Cassian. A twinge of jealousy pricked at her. How is it fair that he looks this orderly even while unconscious?

There was no undignified snoring, no messy hair—not even a hint of drool. He was just... perfect. Her gaze traced the dark circles beneath his eyes, and her heart softened. He came all this way, she thought.

Temptation, sharp and sudden, took hold of her. She found herself leaning in, inch by agonizing inch, closing the distance between them.

To be safe, she waved a hand slowly in front of his face. He didn't stir.

She sighed as quietly as she could. “He's out cold.”

Then a mischievous chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned closer. Up close, his lashes were unfairly long, casting soft shadows on his cheekbones. Her eyes wandered to the bridge of his nose and finally settled on his lips. She subconsciously swallowed, a sudden heat rising to her cheeks.

Her hand reached out, her index finger hovering just inches from those dark lashes, trembling with the urge to see if he was as solid as he looked.

No, no. This is stupid. You’ll wake him up, she scolded herself.

Just as she began to retreat, a hand shot out with lightning speed. Before she could even gasp, Cassian’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. In one fluid motion, he sat up, pinning her hand against the back of the car seat and hovering over her.

The "sleeping" mountain was very much awake.

Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Their gazes locked, the air in the car suddenly feeling thin and electric. Cassian didn’t look tired anymore; his eyes were sharp, dark, and dancing with mischief.

Slowly, his lips spread into a devastating smirk. “Why did you stop?” he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated right through her.

Elara’s eyes widened. The realization hit her like a freight train—he’d been awake the whole time. She tried to summon her dignity, though it was difficult while pinned.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered, averting her eyes.

Cassian’s smirk deepened. He reached out with his free hand, his fingers catching her chin and gently but firmly tilting her face back to his. Now, they were hair-breadths apart. Elara felt like she was melting into the leather.

In two lifetimes, she had never felt tension like this. Her previous "romance" had been a lackluster affair with a man who couldn't be bothered to try. But this? This was too much for her. She was supposed to be in control.

Cassian could feel her trembling beneath his touch. It amused him greatly. He had heard her open the door and, for a split second, hadn't known how to face the "little bunny" who said she'd be keeping her distance. So, he’d taken Vincent’s unspoken advice: Take control.

Looking at her face—so red she looked like she might spontaneously combust—it was clearly working.

“Are you still upset with me?” he murmured, his thumb grazing her jawline.

Elara was hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand on hers. She cleared her throat, her lashes fluttering frantically. “I... Upset with you? Why should I be when we have nothing to do with each other?”

Though she spoke like that, Cassian could see her cheeks getting redder by the second.

“Oh?” he said casually, the amusement in his eyes only growing.

Elara's eyes widened and she scoffed with feigned confidence. “Oh?! What do you mean by ‘oh’?”

Cassian smiled. “Just… oh.”

Elara was getting flustered. “I'm serious.” She sat up with a sudden urge to prove herself, but then sat back down when she realized how much closer that brought them together.

A low chuckle vibrated from Cassian's throat. Then he reached up, his fingers lingering as he carefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His eyes carefully examined every bit of her face, then as if by mistake, his finger brushed her lips.

What’s happening!!!?? Elara screamed internally. Why… When… How did he… did we move to flirting already?!

She didn't even know the question to ask her unresponsive brain. Guess he doesn’t see you as a sister after all, a snarky voice in her head whispered.

“Shut up!” she snapped back.

Cassian locked eyes with her and drew nearer and nearer, holding her gaze while she held her breath. Almost there. She couldn't look away.

Just at the right moment, a sudden, sharp pang of pain shot through Elara’s body. She winced, her body tensing instinctively.

Cassian noticed the shift instantly. The playfulness vanished, replaced by immediate, sharp concern. “What’s wrong?”

He let go of her hand and gave her a bit of distance. He felt bad, thinking he had hurt her in some way. He wasn't going to get that far just yet; he just wanted to tease her. But the pain had Elara biting her lips, with small beads of perspiration appearing on her forehead.

Cassian entered into a frenzied state, cradling her face with both hands. “Elara?”

Had they done something to her already? Did they give her something?

He shook her gently, trying to get her to look at him, but she refused to raise her head.

Why now? She scolded her body.

Ooh, were you waiting for something more? the inner voice taunted.

She froze, the realization that she had been leaning in—metaphorically and literally—hitting her at the same time as the physical pain. Finally, she lifted her eyes and met Cassian’s intense, worried gaze.

“What's happening to you?” she heard him ask.

She wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Because, for some reason, in front of this man, she was utterly, hopelessly shy.