The room was small, not by intention—this was a masterclass in minimalist perfection, glossy modern look with black shiny pieces of furniture, floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and gold lighting that highlighted Caspian’s refined presence—but by tension between us. It sat on my shoulders, though he hadn’t arrived yet.
I had waited in the red velvet armchair in front of his desk, scrolling through my phone, trying to appear disinterested. Caspian had gotten up to take a call and had left me waiting in the sanctum of his tidy office. And despite the fact that I had vowed to myself that I would not pry, curiosity was getting the better of me.
This man who’d lived my life out in public, who’d marched with me and spoken out of politeness, was a stranger. Those glimpses I’d caught of his goodness—coffee every day, the coat he’d tossed over my shoulders without remark—made me yearn for nothing more than glimpse of the man behind the face.
That’s when I saw it.
A photograph, tucked behind a shelf of books on one of his many bookshelves. The tip had been barely noticeable, the edge of it sparkling. It paled in comparison to the icicle beauty of the rest of the room. I gasped at finding it, my heart racing.
It was Caspian , a younger version. His appearance bland now unclenched, hair longer and messy to make him less tense-faced. But not alone. He had one with him, thrown over his shoulder her arm, on his shoulder her head. She was stunning, dark hair that fell to her waist, a smile that would light the world.
They smiled. Smiled, actually.
My stomach contracted. Who was she? The woman who’d instructed Caspian to seal his heart away? Someone he’d loved and lost in some horrific set of events?
“Something interesting?”
I shrieked like a banshee and whirled, frame spilling from my hands. Caspian was in the doorway, suit jacket open, tie undone. But the rakish attitude deceived all—eyes afire, jaw clenched.
“I—” I broke off, stooping to relieve myself of the photograph. “I wasn’t prying.”
He moved across in two reluctant steps and relieved me of the frame. The manner in which he looked at it—gentle and twisted in a way—throbbed my throat.
“Didn’t you notice?” he bit out, his tone low and lethal. “Then what were you trying to do?”
“I was shocked,” I said to him, my chin jerking up even as my throat closed. “You’re always so reserved, Caspian. I thought perhaps—”
“You thought perhaps you’d be crashing into something personal?” he interrupted, his voice ice. “You thought perhaps you’d be invading something that’s not even your business at all?”
Each of his words a knife, and every cut worse than the previous one.
“Don’t be such an idiot about it,” I snapped, folding my arms. “I wasn’t sifting through your drawer. It just fell there.”
“Sure. It was on my desk. In my private office.”
I rolled my eyes, even though I was adrenaline-fueled. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. If it was so private, you wouldn’t have left it out where someone would trip over it.”
He inched closer to me, and I backed up, shoulder slamming against the brim of his desk. He was overpowering close, his eyes a hurricane churning.
“You know nothing about her,” he said, his voice less forceful but just as vehement.
I struggled to swallow, his commanding aura threatening, disabling, leaving me helpless to do anything except gaze at him. “Then say something,” I struggled.
For a moment, I believed he would. Eyes grew soft, lips parting by an inch or so as though the words were real and poised on the tip of his tongue to flow out. Then shutters descended once again, face closing shop, business as usual.
“She was someone I trusted,” he finally said, his voice hollow. “Someone I thought would ever be there for me. And she wasn’t.”
I attempted to get even with him, to make him explain what was the matter, but the threat in his voice kept my words under control.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted, his back turned to me. “Don’t apologize. Don’t try to care.”
They cut, but I wouldn’t be pushed aside. “Why do you do that?” I demanded, my voice echoing out. “Why do you keep pushing people away? Like you’re safer with everyone at arm’s length?”
He turned to me, flames in his eyes. “Because it’s safer that way!”
The toxic words left me gasping, and we hung for a moment, the silence crackling between us with the unspoken words.
“Safer,” I panted. “For whom? For you? Or the people you’re too scared to acknowledge?”
His jaw clamped shut, fists curled tightly at his sides knotting. “You don’t know anything about me, Lily.”
“Perhaps not,” I said, my voice shaking. “But I know what it’s like to be scared of admitting someone. I know what it’s like to put up walls so tall they could never climb over them.”
He spun to face me, his shoulders bracing. “None of it matters,” he said.
“It does to me,” I gasped.
Something in my tone stopped him. He looked at me, his eyes easing a fraction before snapping back into place.
“Leave me alone,” he told me, gentler but no less commanding.
I winced, the ache in my chest as I looked at him. This was not this aloof, standoffish Caspian Grey everyone thought they saw. This was a man shattered by his own devils and fighting battles no one needed to see.
I knew better than to interfere.
“Aright,” I told him, backing off. “But for your own sake, you don’t have to do it alone.”
He uttered not a word, his eyes staring at the picture in his hand.
I shut the door after me as I departed from the office, watching him stand there, his spine bent over, the weight of his history weighing him down.
I saw for the first time how desperately fragile his well-constructed world really was. And I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to assist him in keeping it so or senselessly destroying all of it.