The folder lay untouched on the desk now — as if it hadn't just detonated everything Arabella believed.
Arabella sat curled on the balcony, the night wind tangling her hair, the city glittering beneath her. But all she felt was the quiet thunder in her chest.
He was watching me. Before the marriage. Why?
The door slid open behind her.
Cassian stood there, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair slightly damp. No mask this time. Just rawness.
"You saw the folder."
Arabella didn't move. "Why?"
He stepped closer. "Because I couldn't stop looking."
She turned slowly. "You stalked me, Cassian."
"I studied you."
"Oh, so romantic."
He crouched in front of her, voice low. "Do you think I believe in romance?"
"I believed in it for both of us," she whispered.
His hand rose. Hesitated.
Then cupped her cheek.
"I needed someone who could play the part," he murmured. "But then I saw you laughing at some fashion event, standing in pink heels like you ruled the damn world, and suddenly… I didn't care about the plan anymore."
Arabella's throat ached. "You still chose me to replace her."
"No," he said softly. "I chose you… because you were nothing like her."
---
She wanted to push him away.
Instead, she leaned in.
She hated how much she wanted him. Hated how fast her heartbeat changed the second he touched her. But she couldn't stop it. Not anymore.
His lips met hers — soft at first, uncertain.
Then the dam broke.
---
The kiss turned desperate, greedy.
He pulled her into his arms, lifting her with ease. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her inside, knocking over a lamp on the way. Neither of them cared.
Clothes were shed like secrets.
He pressed her against the wall, her back arching as his mouth trailed down her neck. She gasped his name like a confession.
"Say it again," he whispered.
She clutched him tighter. "Cassian…"
The sound made him lose control.
They tumbled onto the bed, all heat and tension and everything that had been unsaid for weeks.
---
And when it was over… when they lay tangled in sheets and silence…
Arabella turned toward him.
"Was I ever just your wife on paper?"
He looked at her, eyes shadowed.
"No," he whispered.
"You were the first thing that felt real in years."
---
She smiled.
Soft. Drowsy. Beautiful.
And he leaned in to kiss her again — not out of lust this time, but something deeper.
Something terrifying.
Something like love.
---