Cassian's POV:
The moment I stepped out of Arielle's apartment, the warmth in my smile dissolved like smoke in the wind.
She was beautiful—more than beautiful. There was something haunting about her, something fragile yet defiant. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.
I slid into the backseat of the black SUV waiting across the street. Venom sat in the driver's seat, chewing gum like he was bored of everything.
"Drive," I said.
We pulled off, weaving through the night like shadows. I loosened my collar and stared out the window, my voice low and dangerous. "Where is he now?"
Venom didn't have to ask who.
"The docks. Sector 7. He tried to intercept one of our shipments. Thought we wouldn't notice."
I clenched my jaw. "People keep mistaking kindness for weakness. It's becoming annoying."
Twenty minutes later, we arrived. The place reeked of saltwater, oil, and fear. The man was tied to a chair, bruised and trembling under a single flickering bulb. One of my men stepped back as I entered, his face pale.
"Mr. Morello," the man in the chair croaked, "I swear—I didn't know it was your shipment. I was told it was abandoned!"
I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, removing my gloves.
"You see," I said softly, "there's something you don't understand. Everything in this city—everything worth touching—belongs to me."
I crouched in front of him, face-to-face. "You tried to steal from me. You put your hands where they didn't belong."
His lip quivered. "Please… I have a family—
I pressed a finger to his lips. "So did the last man who crossed me."
Then I stood up, straightened my jacket, and nodded once. Venom knew what to do.
As I walked out, the only sound behind me was the crashing of waves and the man's final scream, swallowed by the night.
I lit a cigarette, the flame catching for a moment against the darkness.
Arielle Monroe… you've stepped into a world painted in blood.
And I don't let go of what I claim.
Arielle's POV
The silence in my apartment felt louder than ever after he left. I sat on the edge of my couch, staring at the door he had just closed behind him. For a stranger, Cassian Morello had been oddly… familiar. Too familiar.
The way he spoke. The way he moved like he was used to control, used to power. And those eyes—so calm, but there was something behind them.
Like an ocean that could swallow you whole if you got too close.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the chills crawling up my spine. He was kind. He bought me cookies. He patched me up. So why did it feel like I'd just been touched by something… dangerous?
I moved to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, eyes rimmed red. Today had been a storm, and I was its wreckage. My fingers hovered over the bruise on my shoulder—faint, but there.
And then it hit me.
Cassian hadn't even asked me what happened. Not once. He never asked who hurt me. He just… assumed control. Like he already knew the answer.
I shook my head. Don't be paranoid, Arielle. Not everyone's hiding skeletons.
But as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Cassian Morello.
The way he smiled, like he was used to getting what he wanted.
And the way he looked at me—
Like he already had.
Arielle's POV
I felt so weak. I hadn't even realized Naomi wasn't back from her friend's house. I had decided to wait for her until I received a call from her friend's mother, letting me know Naomi would be sleeping over for the weekend.
A wave of relief washed over me.
At least now, I could rest without Naomi bouncing around in my space, talking my ears off. The house suddenly felt quiet… too quiet, but I was too tired to care.
I slipped out of my clothes and into a loose T-shirt, pulling the covers over my body. The silence and stillness swallowed me, and for once, I didn't fight it.
I let my eyes close.
Sleep took me quickly.
The kind that feels deep and bottomless.
Until—
DING DONG.
My eyes flew open. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I scrambled up. I blinked at the time on my phone.
8:47 AM.
Who was ringing my bell this early?
Still groggy, I threw on my robe and shuffled toward the door. I peeked through the window beside it.
Cassian.
Standing there in comfy joggers and a fitted top that hugged his body too well. He had a bag in his hand, and his smile was so casual it almost irritated me — how could he look that good this early?
I opened the door slowly. "Good morning, Mr. Morello… or wait — Cassian."
He chuckled softly. "Good morning, Miss Monroe… or should I say, Arielle."
He held the bag up. "I brought you something little for breakfast."
I stared at him, confused. This man — we hadn't even known each other for 24 hours, and yet he was being… gentle. Caring. Intimate.
Unsettlingly intimate.
"Miss Monroe," he said with a faint smirk, "I think you need to go shower and brush. Then come eat."
He said it so naturally. Like he had every right to tell me what to do.
I didn't argue. I just turned and walked toward the bathroom, confused and maybe a little curious.
Cassian's POV
As she disappeared down the hallway, I stepped fully inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
I unpacked the food — all of it made by me. Her favorites, of course. I knew what she liked. I'd watched her long enough to know everything.
Everything.
While waiting, I let my eyes wander over the living room — the family photos, the little signs of her life here. Naomi's toys in the corner. A scarf draped lazily over a chair.
I moved deeper into the house, into her space.
Her bedroom door was cracked open. The pajamas she had worn earlier were still on the floor, and the scent of her skin still lingered in the fabric. I picked them up, lifted them to my face — and inhaled.
My God.
She smelled like something I should've never touched but couldn't stop craving.
And then I saw it — her bathroom door, slightly ajar. The water running.
She didn't know I was in the room.
Her back was to me, her silhouette just barely visible through the fogged glass. I stood frozen, mesmerized. Possessed.
She was mine…
That was when it clicked.
I was still in her room.
Daydreaming about her. Obsessing over every inch of her silhouette behind that glass. I'd lost myself in the fantasy — in her.
Then I heard it.
The water stopped.
A sharp panic ran through me like a shock. She was about to step out.
Shit.
I dropped the pajama top like it burned me and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as I could. My heart pounded in my chest — not from fear of being caught, but from how close I had come to crossing a line even she couldn't ignore.
I made it back to the kitchen just in time, grabbing plates and opening containers like I'd been busy the whole time. Calm, composed, helpful — the perfect guest. The perfect man.
The sound of the bathroom door opening made me straighten up.
She was coming.
She had no idea I had just been in her room. In her space. Watching her.
And for now… that was exactly how I wanted.
A few minutes passed before she finally came out of her room.
"I thought you were going to stay in there forever, Arielle," I said, turning around casually —
Then froze.
She was wearing the comfiest little outfit: a snug tank top and those tiny shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass.
Fuck.
It took everything in me not to let the heat that surged through my body take over. My mind spiraled into flashes — lifting her onto the counter, parting her thighs, claiming every inch of her until she forgot her own name. I could already picture the way she'd moan, breathless and trembling, wrapped in me.
Then it hit me — her scent.
Vanilla. Strawberry. Sweet like the cake-flavored ice cream I used to be obsessed with as a kid. Only this time, it came wrapped in skin and temptation.
"Um… Mr. Morello?"
Her voice snapped me out of it.
"Aren't we going to eat?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," I replied quickly. "Let me serve you."
She moved toward the kitchen island, eyes lighting up as I placed the plates before her.
"Oh wow — my favorite! Nutella pancakes and waffles?" she grinned.
I shrugged, giving her my best cool smile. "Lucky guess."
A lie, of course.
My sweet pie, I thought. I know you better than you know yourself. I could write poems about you in my sleep.
She sat down, still chewing on a thought. Then came the question.
"So, Mr. Morello — or sorry, Cassian — why exactly did you come over?"
Her voice was light, but her curiosity wasn't hiding.
I leaned back a little, locking eyes with her. "Miss Monroe — no, sorry — Arielle… I'm not going to act like some smooth-talking Romeo. I'll be straight with you. I'm interested in you."
She blinked — then laughed. Hard.
"Haha — what? You're what? Oh my God," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I'm crying at this point."
But I didn't laugh.
I kept my eyes on her, face unreadable.
The laughter died down. She finally noticed the weight behind my stare.
"You can't be serious," she said, voice softening. "We barely know each other!"
"I didn't say I was going to force you into anything," I replied calmly. "We've got time to get to know each other. But I don't need a year to know I want you, Arielle."
Her mouth parted slightly, and for a moment — just a moment — she didn't have a comeback.
I leaned in a bit, letting my voice dip lower. "But let's leave that topic for now… tell me — what do you plan on doing today?" I asked, letting a small, knowing smirk play on my lips.