Cassian sat in the back garden alone.
She had gone ahead first—murmured something about being too sleepy, rubbing her eyes like a girl who'd just barely made it through the day. He'd nodded, said he'd follow, but he hadn't moved.
Couldn't. Not when minutes ago, right outside the forest, he'd had her lips under his, her body pressed to his. He didn't want to walk into that room with the echo of her sighs still in his head, not when everything inside him was one misstep away from losing control again.
A half-drunk bottle of beer dangled from his fingers, sweat from the glass soaking the ring of his shirt. The night was cool, scented with pine and lake water, the quiet hum of crickets filling the space where his thoughts screamed.
What the fuck had just happened?
He leaned back on the bench, stared up at the sky—at stars scattered like dust, blinking at him like they knew. Like they were judging him.
He'd kissed her.
Really kissed her.
And it wasn't lust. That was the worst part. It would've been easier—safer—if it had been.
God knows they'd already crossed too many lines. She'd licked his hands in his office. Licked his body and yeah, dick once too, even if it had been under the pretense of... whatever the hell they'd told themselves. And yes, he'd fingered her on his damn couch and made her come so hard she bit his shoulder to muffle it. They talked. They agreed. They said they'd stop. Pull back.
This was not pulling back.
This was not casual, not teasing, not a touch in passing or the sweet thrill of watching her squirm in a meeting because she knew what his hands could do.
This had been a kiss.
And not just a kiss—the kiss. The kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant. That swallowed thought. That made him forget where they were, who they were, what rules they were supposed to be following.
He'd kissed her like he wanted to build a life around the sound she made when he did.
Cassian dragged a hand over his face.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Sienna Caldwell was supposed to be his assistant. His terrifyingly competent, endlessly professional, secretly sarcastic, sometimes infuriating assistant. She was supposed to be the one constant in his mess of a world—the person who didn't get involved. Who kept things functional.
And now he'd kissed her like she belonged to him.
He stared at his hand, still remembering how she felt under it. How soft she was. How real.
And how she let him.
She didn't stop it.
She leaned into it. Kissed him back like she wanted him to never stop. Like she meant it.
Which made this even worse.
He took a long pull from his beer, nearly finishing it.
They had to go home.
They had to end this.
The forest. The stars. The firelight in her eyes. The fucking swimsuit. Her laugh.
It had gotten too real.
Too dangerous.
Cassian set the beer down on the stone step beside him and buried his face in his hands.
They were leaving first thing tomorrow.
He barely heard the soft steps on the gravel path behind him until his mother's voice broke the silence.
"There you are."
Cassian didn't move. "Here I am."
Margo sat down beside him, her own glass of wine in hand, and took in the night air.
"I came to remind you of the itinerary tomorrow. Breakfast at eight. Brunch by the lake around ten. Then a little farewell lunch with the family before everyone drives back."
He nodded once. "Thanks."
She studied him for a long moment. "You've been quiet."
"I'm just tired."
She hummed like she didn't believe him, sipped her wine, then added casually, "Sienna's lovely, by the way."
Cassian groaned. "Please, not now."
"She's sharp. Graceful. A little shy but very warm. And I've never seen you look so… soft."
He gave her a look. "You make it sound like I've turned into a poet."
"You've turned into someone who listens more. Who smiles when she walks into the room. Who blushes like a schoolboy when she looks at you too long."
"Mom..."
"I'm just saying," she said lightly. "She'd make a beautiful daughter-in-law."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "Mom. You know we're just acting."
"I know."
She turned and gave him a sly smile. "You're just very good at it. Almost too good."
He exhaled hard. "You're not helping."
"No, I imagine I'm not." She leaned back. "But I'm your mother and that's my job."
He said laughed softly.
She patted his hand. "It's okay to want something different. Even if it's scary. Especially if it's her."
He stared at the darkness. Not answering her for a long time. Then, "We're going back tomorrow as soon as we can get ready."
"I thought the plan was Monday?"
"I have an emergency meeting. Can't wait."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "I see."
He didn't look at her.
But she didn't push. Just sipped her wine. "Well. Tell Sienna I'll miss her. If you're going that early, I will probably not be awake."
"She'll appreciate that."
"I'm sure she will."
"Oh, and ask your cousin in the morning—Camille. She mentioned she needs to head back too. Said something about her boyfriend waiting in the city. Maybe you can all leave together."
"Yeah." Probably the best.
Margo stood, brushed her hands off gently, and left him there with only the stars.
Eventually, Cassian rose too. He went inside quietly, took the back stairs up, and moved through the hall like a ghost.
When he entered their shared room, the light from the bathroom was still glowing. He grabbed his clothes and showered quickly, letting the hot water scald away whatever was left of the night's ache.
When he stepped out, towel around his waist, hair wet, the room was dim. She lay in bed already, turned away from him, breathing steady.
Pretending.
He could tell by the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand curled too deliberately under her cheek.
He didn't call her out on it.
He didn't say anything at all.
He just slipped into bed beside her, leaving a respectful space, and stared at the ceiling.
They were in deep shit.
And morning couldn't come fast enough.
Before another kiss made it impossible to walk away.