Rocco’s jaw clenched hard. “I just said—” he started, but Cassian cut him off before he could dig deeper.“Don’t make me repeat myself… Prieto,” Cassian didn’t even bother to look at him. He turned back to his desk, flicking ash from his cigarette like Rocco was already gone.The room’s silence stretched colder and uncomfortable, thick with tension and almost suffocating. Cassian’s back stayed mostly turned, calm and unbothered, too busy watching smoke twist toward the ceiling to care about the furious man glaring black holes into him.Rocco’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. Still, he managed a forced, polite nod. “Alright then… have a good day,” he said, every word scraping over his teeth.He turned to Alessia, ready to drag her out, but Cassian’s voice stopped him cold.“I asked you to leave, Prieto,” Cassian said, his voice cold as steel. “Not her.”Rocco froze, his grip bruising Alessia’s arm. His face twisted. “She’s my fiancée, De Rossi.” He spat the words like
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