C9 The Glass Between Us

Cassidy’s POV

Cassidy stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling window of his office, arms crossed, his reflection barely visible in the tinted glass. Below him, the city pulsed with ambition—cars like ants, people like shadows. Just the way he liked it.

Controlled. Predictable. Distant.

But Aria Winters?

She was none of those things.

He heard the soft knock at the door before it opened. She didn’t wait for permission—bold move. She stepped inside, calm mask firmly in place, professional as ever.

“Mr. Lorne,” she said with a polite nod. “You asked to see me?”

Cassidy turned slowly, letting silence hang for just a beat too long.

“Close the door.”

She obeyed. Quietly.

He motioned to the chair across from his desk, but she didn’t sit. Interesting.

“I wanted to talk about the terrace,” he started, voice smooth but clipped. “And your decision to alter the blueprint without prior approval.”

Aria didn’t flinch. “I included the change in the revision log. You signed off on it.”

Cassidy stepped forward. “I signed off on an idea. Not a statement.”

Her brow twitched.

“The design was bolder,” he continued. “More vulnerable. More... personal. That wasn’t a professional choice, Ms. Winters. That was emotional.”

She met his gaze head-on. “Architecture is emotional. If you’re afraid of vulnerability in your building, then maybe you’re the one with the problem.”

There it was.

The fire.

The glimpse of her from the masquerade.

Cassidy didn’t smile. Not visibly. But deep inside, something stirred.

“Tell me something,” he said, circling the desk now. “Do you often attend charity balls in secret?”

She froze.

Just for a second.

Cassidy leaned on the desk, arms crossed. “Because I do. Once. Masked. Anonymous. Best night I’ve had in years.”

Her eyes gave nothing away, but her grip on the folder in her hand tightened.

“Of course,” he added casually, “the woman disappeared before I could even get her name.”

Aria’s voice was even. “Sounds like she wasn’t interested.”

“Or she had something to hide.”

Silence stretched between them, tension crawling into the corners like smoke.

Then she spoke—soft, controlled, distant. “Is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Lorne?”

He stared at her for a long beat.

“No,” he said finally. “That’ll be all.”

She turned to leave, heels clicking sharply on the polished floor.

But just as her hand touched the door handle, he called out:

“Aria.”

She paused.

“When you see her again,” he said, voice low, almost conspiratorial, “tell her I’m still thinking about her.”

She didn’t turn around. Didn’t speak.

But Cassidy saw the tremble in her shoulders.

And just like that, the glass between them cracked.