C8 Things Unspoken

Aria’s POV

Aria’s fingers hovered above her keyboard long after her team had left for the night. The floor was quiet. Too quiet. Just the hum of the building and her thoughts banging around in her skull like wild animals.

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the blueprints on the screen—her blueprints. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about his words: “The terrace stays.”

That wasn’t approval.

That was a warning.

Cassidy Lorne never gave ground unless he was laying a trap. And right now, she was the mouse nibbling cheese in the middle of a minefield.

---

Her Apartment – Later That Night

She kicked off her heels the second the door shut behind her. Home. Safe zone. No billionaires, no boardrooms, no icy blue eyes watching her like they could burn through her secrets.

She stripped off her blazer, tossed it on the couch, and walked straight to her bedroom mirror.

Staring back at her wasn’t Aria the Architect.

It was her.

The masked girl from the ball.

The one who had danced, laughed, and kissed a stranger like the night would never end.

But it had. And now that stranger had a name. A company. A signature scent she couldn’t get out of her head.

Cassidy freaking Lorne.

She sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“He doesn’t know it was me,” she whispered to herself. “He can’t.”

But he looked at her like he did.

And that scared her more than anything.

---

Flashback – The Night of the Ball

The music had been loud, but not louder than her heartbeat. She remembered the weight of the mask, the shimmer of lights, the way his hand had felt when he pulled her into that slow dance.

“You’re not like the rest,” he’d said.

She remembered smiling. “Neither are you.”

God, how naive. How reckless.

That night hadn’t been a fairytale. It had been a lit fuse—and now the explosion was coming.

---

Present – Back at the Office, Next Morning

Aria walked into the design studio with her game face on. The team was already buzzing with updates. She handed off revisions, dodged small talk, kept her walls up.

But then—she felt it.

The air changed.

She looked up and froze.

Cassidy Lorne. Leaning in the doorway like he owned the oxygen. Which he probably thought he did.

He didn’t say a word. Just looked at her, eyes cold, lips unreadable.

Then: “My office. Ten minutes.”

And he walked away.

No explanation. No emotion.

But Aria knew one thing: ten minutes from now, her secret would be walking a tightrope.

And Cassidy? He’d be the one holding the scissors.