WRITER'S POV:
Dinner was not supposed to happen.
Cassius returned from his meeting like a thundercloud in tailored black, tension radiating off him in silent waves. Ivy had curled herself into the far corner of the suite like a domestic house cat who smelled danger on the wind.He didn't speak for a while. Just walked in, removed his jacket, and tossed it over a chair with precision that made her nerves jump."You ate?" he asked without looking at her."Not really," she said, setting down a half-finished yogurt cup that had been her sad little dinner plan."We're going down to the restaurant.""Sorry, we?"He turned to her, expression unreadable. "You need real food. Not something that came out of a hotel fridge."Ivy blinked. "Is this concern? Should I be alarmed?""You can be whatever you want as long as you're ready in five minutes."She stared at him. Then at her robe. Then at the growing pile of her emotional exhaustion.Five minutes later, she emerged in the simplest dress she could throw on—a dark green slip that didn't scream seduction so much as it quietly murmured I'm trying to be ignored and failing.Cassius didn't react. Not at first.But she saw the flicker in his eyes.The restaurant was elegant and nearly empty. Cassius requested a booth in the far corner like he had an allergy to light and socializing. The waiter arrived, clearly terrified. They ordered quickly, and then the silence stretched out like a dinner guest with no concept of boundaries.Ivy toyed with her water glass. "Do you always eat like a vampire hiding in plain sight?""Would you prefer something livelier?""I don't know. Maybe some conversation. A joke. A smile that doesn't look like it's hiding body count data."Cassius tilted his head. "You think I'm cold.""I think you're a thermostat set to 'emotional arctic.'"He smirked. There it was. That faint, dangerous curve of his lips that sent warning flares through her entire nervous system."If I made you uncomfortable," he said slowly, "you wouldn't be here.""I didn't say you made me uncomfortable.""Then what did you mean, Ivy?"She looked away. The wine arrived. She drank it too fast.Dinner came. Luxurious, delicious, and somehow entirely unnecessary compared to the tension simmering between them.Halfway through, Cassius leaned back, watching her."You're different when you're not pretending to be professional.""You're different when you're not threatening to drag me into a lavatory.""You liked that."Her fork froze mid-air."Excuse me?"He reached for his wine glass, eyes on her like he was dissecting every muscle movement."You're not scared of me," he said. "You're curious. That's more dangerous.""You think I'm curious? About what?"He leaned in slightly. "About how far I'll go. About what I'd do if you touched me first."The air vanished from the room.Ivy set her fork down with the kind of precision that only came from suppressing full internal combustion."You really have a high opinion of yourself.""No," he said. "I have a very clear opinion of you."She should've left. She should've rolled her eyes, called him a narcissist, and ordered dessert just to ruin the tension. But instead she stayed perfectly still, caught in the riptide of whatever this was."Why are you doing this?" she whispered.Cassius didn't answer right away. Just leaned closer, until the table between them didn't feel like enough space to breathe."Because you've been trying not to want this since the moment we met."And there it was.She laughed. Softly. Bitterly. "And you're any different?"His voice dropped to a murmur. "I'm worse."They left without dessert. The elevator ride was silent, the air charged enough to ignite steel.Back in the suite, Ivy headed straight for her side of the space, heart pounding, dress clinging too closely.Cassius, as always, moved like a ghost made of threat and hunger.And as she lay in the dark on the oversized couch, eyes wide open, all she could hear was her own breath—and the quiet sound of him walking past her space again.Not saying a word.But not needing to.