"We’re going to New York tomorrow. A few meetings, a fundraiser, nothing too major,” Caspian said.
I blinked at him, fork halted in midair. “We?”
He didn’t even flinch, still calm and authoritative. “Yeah, we. This whole arrangement needs to be continuous. You’re coming along.”
I let the fork sit but felt my appetite vanish. “Caspian, I can’t just hop on a plane. I run a bookstore. A life.”
He pursed his lips together, an almost-there smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A bookstore that wouldn’t exist, if not for me. Think of this as part of your pact.”
The air around grew thick. I could have argued, even given him some ideas on how I was my own person and not just an object that you could take and parade around. But the look in his eyes told me pretty much there was no point.
“Fine,” I said, arms crossed. “But don’t expect me to just fall in line.”
His smile deepened, and something close to playful flickered across his expression. “I wouldn’t dare.”
By the time we landed in New York I was already regretting my decision.
An army of paparazzi ambushed us at the airport and national assistants hustled around Caspian as if his life was the only one that mattered to them. I kept tripping and falling behind while trying to follow him.
They whisked us into one of those extravagant hotels, the kind whose lobby screams ostentatious wealth and exclusivity. Caspian’s suite was so big and massive that the gigantic windows took the floors and the ceilings, overlooking that fantastically beautiful city skyline.
“Make yourself at home,” he shrugged off his jacket and flicked it away into the back of a chair. “We’ll go to the first meeting after an hour.”
I set eyes on this space engulfed in grandeur, feeling very much at discomfort, not at all like me. “Right. Because I’m just here for the meetings.”
His glance flicked towards me, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re here because you’re part of this now. Whether you like it or not.”
His words held weight over me, but deep inside, a voice told me that whatever it is he’s saying does not just revolve around our pact.
The first meeting was held at an elegant corporate office wherein one just felt the power almost oozing from the walls. Caspian was in his element, amidst the overpowering presence that filled the room.
I sat beside him in silence, doing my best to get the act of looking as though I belonged there down. But as the meeting stretched on, it became apparent that everyone was hanging on every word he managed to utter, deferring to him. It was pretty impressive. Incredibly, intimidating though.
When the meeting ended, I followed him out of the office, relieved to have come out of the stifling surroundings.
“That was well played,” he said as we stepped into the lift, giving me a sidelong glance.
I snorted. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, you didn’t embarrass me,” he remarked with a smirk. “So it’s a start.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his tone that made my heart clench.
The fundraiser that night seemed to stretch even longer than the meeting.
Such a ballroom it was, filled with some of the richest and most powerful people I had ever seen! The women were bedecked in designer gowns, and the men in suits to die for. And here I was, trying deep breaths not to fall on my dress picked out by Caspian’s assistant and trip over my heels.
“You look beautiful,” Caspian said, his voice a low undertone as he leaned in close to me.
Looking up at him, my breath caught at the sheer intensity of his gaze. “Thank you,” I barely managed, my cheeks flaring under that intense gaze.
He offered me his arm; I took it somewhat begrudgingly, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the room on us as we made our entrance.
The evening sped by in a haze of introductions, handshakes, and forced smiles. But where Caspian excelled graciousness and charm, something was just tense enough in his demeanor to intrigue me.
Later-on, just the two of us alone, the first cracks began to appear in the perfect disguise.
We had stepped outside onto the balcony for some fresh air, the city lights sprawled out below us. I leaned against the railing and enjoyed the cool breeze.
“Must hate these things?” I turned and glanced at him.
He smirked, no humor in it. “They are a necessity.”
“But you hate them,” I pressed.
He didn’t answer for a while, but kept watching the skyline. “What I hate does not matter.”
A smidgen of something akin to bitterness tinted his tone. In those moments, I felt this man behind the mask, the one whom the world had put on his back and who had built so many walls that no one could peek within.
“It matters to me,” I said softly.
His head snapped back to mine, surprise drifting across his features. “Why?”
“Do you think you are untouchable?” I whispered.
The tension sizzled between us, heavy with things left unsaid. And when his gaze lingered on my lips, I thought he might lean down and kiss me. And then he stepped back, and the walls came rushing back into place.
“We should get back inside,” he said, all chill now with distance.
I nodded, swallowing audibly as I followed him inside.
The following morning, I awoke to find a note on my bedside table.
Had to leave early for a meeting. Enjoy the city. –C.
That small thing had me feeling a bit off-kilter. Caspian Grey was not the kind of man who left notes, that was for sure.
I spent the day roaming around the streets of New York, trying my best to forget about the way his eyes had lingered on me the night before. But almost everywhere I went, memories of that moment were there to torment me, always ringing in my ear like a tolling bell announcing the arrival of the man behind the mask.
By the time I had returned to the hotel, I was more confused than ever.
I stepped into the suite only to find Caspian waiting for me, inscrutable on the look, I somehow found myself establishing a fact: I was well and truly out of my depth.