Chapter 2
Two years ago
"Mr. Masters," Cassie called out, her voice cutting through the tension of the crowded room. "You talk as though Masters Enterprises is untouchable, but let's be honest—it's all smoke and mirrors."
A hush fell over the press conference. All eyes snapped to her. The click of camera shutters echoed, capturing the sudden shift in energy.
Behind the podium, Christian Masters paused. His face remained unreadable, but there was a subtle tightening of his jaw, a barely perceptible flex of his fingers against the lectern. He was controlling it—but just barely.
He met her gaze in the crowd, his eyes cold and assessing. "You accuse me of arrogance," he said, his voice smooth but sharp, laced with something dangerous. "And yet here you are—grandstanding for attention. I wonder who's really the one selling illusions."
Cassie's pulse quickened, but she didn't flinch. "The truth doesn't need an audience. It just needs someone willing to speak it."
The room was still for a moment, thick with the weight of their words. A slow, almost predatory smile curved at the corner of Christian's mouth. It wasn't amused or kind—it was calculated, controlled, the kind of smile you'd give to someone who had no idea what they were about to face.
"Then say it clearly, Miss Kensington. And be prepared to pay the price."
Present Day
Cassie jolted awake, her body tangled in the sheets, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The remnants of that moment—the press conference, his words, that look in his eyes—clung to her like a smoke-filled haze, thick and suffocating. It had been two years, but the weight of it hadn't lessened.
She sat up, rubbing a hand over her face, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of dread. Her apartment, once a place of refuge, now felt cold and sterile. The morning light was too bright, the silence too overwhelming.
For the longest time, she had convinced herself that Christian had moved on. That the moment was just that—a brief, charged encounter that meant nothing to him in the long run. He had probably forgotten.
But yesterday... when their eyes had met in that office—Cassie knew.
He hadn't forgotten.
Cassie reached for her phone, her fingers a little unsteady. The text was already there, waiting for her.
"My office. 9 a.m. sharp."
—Christian Masters
It was brief. To the point. But beneath the words, there was something else—a current of tension, an undercurrent of something unresolved. That same intensity that had filled the air between them two years ago.
Cassie straightened her spine, trying to shake the unease that had settled in her gut. She could feel the familiar flutter of anxiety, but now, there was something else. A fire. A spark of defiance.
If this was his way of seeking revenge, then fine. She was ready to face him head-on. And this time, she wasn't just going to be a player in his game—she was going to turn the tables.
It was time to show him that she wasn't afraid anymore.