Page 63 of Sexting the Billionaire

"Family first—I completely understand." Grant's smile never wavers. "Perhaps breakfast tomorrow? I have some thoughts about potential synergies between our organizations that might interest you."

Before I can intervene again—which would only make the situation worse—Cassie responds.

"Breakfast works," she says with perfect professional courtesy. "I can meet you at eight."

"Excellent." Grant looks far too pleased with himself. "I'll have my assistant send you the details."

I maintain my composure as the meeting wraps up through sheer force of will, but inside I'm seething. Not at Cassie—she handled the situation perfectly, maintaining professional appearances while establishing her autonomy. No, my anger is directed entirely at Grant and his transparent attempt to use her against me.

As the meeting adjourns for lunch, Grant approaches Cassie again. I remain at the boardroom table, watching them interact from a distance that feels both professional and torturous.

"Ms. Monroe," I call as their conversation concludes. "A moment before you leave?"

She excuses herself from Grant and approaches my end of the table, her expression giving nothing away. "Yes, Mr. Kade?"

"The Milan supplier issues we discussed yesterday," I say, loud enough for lingering board members to hear. "Have they been resolved?"

"Not entirely. I'll email you the details this afternoon." Her voice is steady, professional, revealing none of the intimacy we shared just hours ago.

"Thank you." I gather my materials, fighting the urge to say more. To warn her about Grant. To apologize for intervening earlier. To ask her what he said in their brief conversation.

Instead, I simply nod. "Good work on the presentation."

"Thank you, sir." She turns to leave, then pauses.

"About that previous commitment tonight..."

I raise an eyebrow, waiting.

She meets my gaze evenly, but her fingers are already moving—subtle, practiced. A second later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance down.

Cassie Monroe:

Something’s come up. I need a little space tonight- I need some time to think about things- about us. Hope you understand.

The message is clear.

Even couched in polite, professional language, she’s pulling back.

"I may need to reschedule," she says aloud, voice smooth. "Something’s come up."

I nod once, cool and unreadable.

"Not a problem, Ms. Monroe. We can address those matters another time."

She gives nothing away—no hesitation, no regret—as she turns and walks out of the boardroom with the same confident stride that caught my attention in the first place, several weeks ago.

But as the door closes behind her, I stare at the message again?—

and wonder what exactly she's trying to run from.

I'm still watching the door when Grant reappears beside me.

"Quite the talent you've discovered," he observes, his tone deceptively casual. "Creative. Bold. Independent. Not your usual type, Roman."

"What exactly are you implying, Maxwell?" I keep my voice low, aware of stragglers still gathering materials.

"Nothing at all." His smile is all false innocence. "Just noting that Ms. Monroe seems like someone who makes her own decisions. Unlike Catherine, who was always looking for... guidance."

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