Power is a fascinating thing.
Most men think they hold it simply because others fear them.
Cassian Morelli is not most men.
He doesn’t just demand control—he embodies it.
A force that shapes the world around him with nothing more than his presence.
And yet, he doesn’t realize he’s already started losing control.
Not yet.
I sit at the grand dining table, morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden streaks across pristine white marble.
The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air, blending with something more intoxicating.
Him.
Cassian watches me from across the table, elbow resting lazily on the armrest, fingers tapping against polished wood.
Waiting.
Studying.
“You don’t eat much,” he observes.
I lift my gaze to meet his, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
“I eat enough.”
“Noted.”
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He leans back—too casual.
But his eyes remain razor-sharp.
He’s baiting me again.
I offer a small smile, tilting my head.
“You watch me too closely.”
Cassian smirks.
“Only because you make it easy.”
I set my cup down.
“Do I?”
There’s a flicker in his gaze—interest, amusement, suspicion.
A pause.
Then—
“No.”
I keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m amused.
Good.
Let him doubt himself.
Let him think he’s the one in control when, piece by piece, I’m pulling the rug from under him.
He shifts, resting an arm on the table.
“You’ve been here for weeks, yet I know almost nothing about you.”
I hum softly, tracing the rim of my cup with my finger.
“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.”
Cassian chuckles, low and deep.
“Oh, I think I am.”
“Then maybe you’re not ready for the answers.”
A beat of silence.
The air between us tightens.
Cassian is used to people giving him everything—
Their fears.
Their secrets.
Their loyalty.
But I?
I give him nothing.
And that drives men like him insane.
Finally, he leans forward slightly, voice dropping into something more dangerous.
“You like playing games, don’t you?”
“Only when I win.”
Cassian’s smirk doesn’t falter, but his gaze darkens.
For a split second, I feel a shift in the air—
A ripple on the surface of still water.
Then, as quickly as it comes, it’s gone.
He pushes back from the table, standing fluidly.
“Come with me.”
I blink.
“Where?”
Cassian doesn’t answer.
He just holds out a hand.
Another test.
Another move on the board.
I let a second pass.
Then I place my hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet.
His grip is warm.
Firm.
And as he leads me through the halls of his estate—
down corridors lined with wealth and power—
I wonder if he realizes...
He’s leading me straight to the slaughter.
His own.