Ch. 3

I walked out of the visitation room with my heart pounding like it wanted out of my chest.

But I kept my face neutral. Eyes cold. Steps steady.

Glass over embers. That was my code.

Olivia was waiting just down the hall.

“Ma’am, what happened? Is he—?”

“I’m fine,” I cut her off sharply. “No interruptions until further notice.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t argue. Smart girl.

The clack‑clack of my heels faded in my ears as the office door clicked shut. The walls felt too tight. My suit, too hot.

I ripped the file open again, trying to focus—trying to be the attorney I was supposed to be.

But the words blurred. My head spun when his words echoed.

“But I remember what you look like when you fall apart. When you begged me not to stop. Do you?”

A scent still lingered on me from the precinct. The industrial soap. His cologne.

And suddenly, I was back there.

THREE YEARS AGO

I had rules.

No repeats. No feelings. No sleeping over.

Cassian Draven broke all three in one night. He didn’t knock. Just showed up outside my hotel room like a storm looking for something to ruin.

I should’ve sent him away. Instead, I opened the door. And within seconds, my back hit the wall and his mouth found mine.

Hunger. That’s what it felt like.

Like he was starving. For me. For the pieces of me no one else touched.

My blouse tore. Buttons flew. My pencil skirt bunched at my waist.

His knuckles slid down my thigh, dragging heat with them.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I breathed against his mouth.

“I know,” he growled. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And then it was chaos.

His hands in my hair. My legs wrapped around his waist.

His mouth moved lower, until there was nothing left of me but fire and want.

Cassian was ruthless. He touched me like he wanted to memorize every sound. Every gasp. Every part of me I tried to keep hidden.

He whispered my name like it was the only one he knew.

Like it tasted good.

Like he wanted to die saying it.

And when he finally sank into me, it wasn’t sweet.

It was punishment.

It was worship.

It was madness.

Slow. Then hard. Then harder.

Until I shattered. Twice. Maybe three times. I lost count.

But he didn’t stop. Just whispered: “I’m not done with you.”

And made me believe it.

BACK TO PRESENT

My hand fluttered to my throat, then clamped over my pulse.  My fingertips trembled against the polished leather of the folder, as if trying to choke down a scream.

I didn’t want this case.

Didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to defend him.

But Langley’s voice kept circling in my head like a vulture.

“Be wise, Thea. Make the right call.”

One viral headline. One photo out of context. And I’d be the girl who couldn’t separate court from cock.

They knew exactly how to bait me. And I took it. Hook. Line. Noosed.

I glanced at the time—6:00 PM.

Finally.

I shut down the computer, grabbed my bag, and moved with the rest of the suits pouring out of the firm’s glass doors. Outside, the air was cool and damp, city lights blinking against a sky that hadn't fully decided if it wanted to rain.

I was almost at my car when I heard the honk.

My heart jumped. Stupid, involuntary response.

I turned, brow furrowing, eyes scanning the street, then I saw him.

Cassian.

Leaning on his car like he hadn’t tried to steal the ground from underneath my feet minutes ago. Like he had the right to look that good. Hand on the roof, lips curved into a challenge.

“Get in,” he said. Like it was nothing.

I didn’t move. “I don’t let clients take me home.”

“Since when?”

“Since I learned to separate business from pleasure.”

I started walking.

He followed.

Hands tucked into his pockets. That same easy confidence that used to melt my defenses like sugar in heat. When he reached me, he didn’t smile. Just stared.

“Have you really shoved me so far into the back of your mind that you don’t even want an explanation?”

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t care why you left,” I said, calm and cold. “The past is the past.”

Lie.

God, such a lie.

I turned to leave.

But his hand caught my arm quickly and firmly. I stiffened.

He pulled me into him and I slammed against his chest.

My breath caught.

His scent hit me like a damn drug. That same burnt coffee and leather—sharp enough to sting. The one that used to cling to my sheets.

I shoved him. “Are you out of your mind? Have some decorum. Respect your new relationship.”

That got him.

His face twisted at the word relationship, like I’d just accused him of murder.

“I want a chance.”

I arched a brow. “A chance? At what?”

“To fix it,” he said. “To be near you again. You think I chose you just because you’re good in a courtroom?”

I barked out a laugh. “So I’m what—some pit stop on your guilt tour?”

“You’re the only one who ever saw me.”

“No,” I said, stepping back. “I was the only one stupid enough to fall for your shit.”

He didn’t flinch. He never did.

“You say that,” he murmured, leaning in. His breath brushed my neck, slow and intentional. “But if I touched you right now, I know you’d remember. I’d take you right back to that night, and we both know you’d let me.”

My blood roared in my ears. My skin burned and froze all at once.

But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Instead, I swallowed down the ache and said, “I’m not the girl you fucked and forgot.”

His smile was dark.

“Good. Because I didn’t forget.”