Page 34 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
“And now?”
“Now I just know that I want to keep seeing you. Keep helping if you’ll let me. Keep having conversations like tonight.” He paused. “Everything else I need to figure out.”
“That’s fair,” I managed, even though my heart was racing. “I’m still figuring things out too.”
“Good night, Talia.”
“Good night, Cassian.”
He held my gaze for one more long moment, and I saw everything we weren’t saying reflected in his eyes. Want and confusion and the careful restraint that had kept us from crossing lines tonight.
Then he walked to his Explorer and drove away, taking that cedar and leather scent with him. The bistro felt emptier than it had before he’d arrived, the silence heavier now that I’d experienced it broken by conversation that mattered.
I forced myself back to the permit applications telling myself I’d review them one last time, but my concentration was completely destroyed. All I could think about was the way he’d looked at me. The careful restraint in his voice when he’d said my name. The feeling of his hand wrapped around mine like it belonged there. The moment when we’d been so close, when kissing had felt inevitable and terrifying in equal measure.
This was a problem. A significant, complicated problem that I absolutely did not have bandwidth to handle while trying to open a bistro and rebuild my life.
I gathered my papers and locked up the building, driving home through empty streets while my mind spun in circles. Jace with his infectious enthusiasm and easy affection. Hollis with his gentle patience. And now Cassian with his sharp intelligence and the way he made me feel capable instead of rescued.
Three men. Three completely different ways of feeling seen and valued and wanted.
And I had no idea what to do about any of it.
Back at the cottage, I showered off the day’s dust and changed into pajamas, but sleep felt impossible. I kept replaying the evening. The way Cassian had remembered my throwawaycomment about pad thai and driven forty minutes to get it. The vulnerability in his voice when he’d talked about his family. The moment when we’d been so close, when the air had changed and everything had felt possible and dangerous in equal measure.
My phone sat on the nightstand, and I found myself staring at the text thread with Cassian. Two weeks of daily messages, professional at first but gradually becoming warmer. More personal. The digital record of a connection that had somehow become important when I wasn’t paying attention.
I typed before I could stop myself:Thank you again for tonight. The Thai food was perfect. So was the company.
His response came faster than expected for midnight:You’re welcome. Sleep well, Talia.
Then, a moment later:Same time next week?
I stared at the message, understanding what he was really asking. Not just about permit applications or contractor schedules, but about continuing whatever this was between us. About choosing to spend time together because we wanted to, not because business required it.
Same time next week, I typed back.I’ll try to remember dinner this time.
I’ll bring backup Thai food just in case.
I smiled at my phone like an idiot, then set it aside and stared at my ceiling. Trying to sort through emotions that felt too big and too complicated for someone who’d come here to rebuild a career, not collect romantic entanglements.
But the truth I was starting to accept, the truth that terrified me more than permit applications or contractor quotes or health department inspections, was simple and unavoidable.
I was attracted to Cassian Black. Really, genuinely, viscerally attracted to him in ways that went beyond appreciation for his help or gratitude for his support.
Two weeks of working together had created something I hadn’t planned for. Something that made my pulse race when his name appeared on my phone. Something that made me look forward to his visits with an intensity that had nothing to do with business consulting.
And I had absolutely no idea what to do about that when I was already confused about two other men who made me feel entirely different things.
I fell asleep thinking about cedar and leather and gray eyes that saw straight through every defense I’d carefully constructed. Thinking about capable hands and careful distance and the weight of unspoken want hanging between us like promise and warning in equal measure.
Thinking that I was in so much trouble, and I still had no idea whether that was a catastrophe or an opportunity.
Tomorrow I’d face the building department and submit permits. Tomorrow I’d pretend tonight had been just dinner between colleagues instead of something that felt far more significant.
But tonight, I let myself want what I wanted without apologizing for it. Let myself admit that Cassian Black had gotten under my skin in two weeks of careful attention, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him out.
Even if it meant everything was about to get infinitely more complicated.
