Cassie’s POV
It’s a new week and I feel so much better, ready to go back to work. After what Damien did last week, I couldn’t wait to submit my resignation letter to him.
The thought of walking up to him and placing that letter on his desk had been sitting in the back of my mind all weekend, quiet but constant. I kept replaying the moment in my head, imagining how it would feel to finally say the words out loud and mean them.
The elevator doors dinged open and I walked straight to his office. I placed his coffee on his desk and sat at mine, waiting for him to arrive.
After an hour, he walked in, dressed elegant and expensive as usual. A dark blue suit, his tie perfectly knotted, and his signature scent filling the room the second he stepped through the door. Clean, expensive and somehow darker underneath.
I stared at him as he walked through the office to his desk. I waited for him to settle in before I submitted the letter.
Thirty minutes later, after he seemed settled, I walked up to him.
"Good morning, sir. I have to submit this letter to you." I handed it over.
"What is this about?" he asked, holding the file up.
"Sir, it’s my resignation letter." The words came out before I could stop them. He looked at me, surprised and disappointed at the same time.
"Resignation letter? Why?" he asked. "Have I not been good to you?"
The way he asked made me feel guilty. I could barely remember the bad things he did to me, but I knew there were a lot.
"I can’t accept this letter," he said, dropping the file on the edge of the table. "It doesn’t make sense."
"Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t continue working here. It’s not safe for me. My dad’s incident, the recent death threat... I want a little privacy in my life."
"I said no. I can’t accept this letter. Go back to work."
I went back to my seat. I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I had imagined myself laughing while his face filled with sadness.
It was lunch break, but he didn’t leave his office. I went to the cafeteria to get my lunch. CeCe was sitting at the edge of the room alone, staring at me, probably still mad about what happened the other day.
I walked up to her. "CeCe, how are you doing?"
"I’m fine. I heard about your accident. I’m so happy you’re better now."
"Thank you." I smiled and took a bite of my sandwich.
"Damien has been with you the whole time. He even went to save you from whatever problem you were in. So my question is, why would he go to such lengths for his mere worker?"
"Mere worker?" I smiled. "That’s crazy."
"Actually, it is. He doesn’t care about anyone like that. Are you guys fucking?"
"Christ, no. We’re not." I took a deep breath. "I’ve asked him this question before, and he told me he feels the urge to protect whoever works for him, especially his personal assistant."
She didn’t look convinced. The reason wasn’t very convincing to me either, but I couldn’t think of another one.
"It’s fine. I think he’s in love with you."
I nearly choked on my sandwich. "Sorry, what?" I laughed. "In love with me?"
This was so funny.
"I’m actually serious. The way he looks at you, he’s literally biased toward you, and people are talking."
I turned around and saw a few people whispering while looking at me. "Honestly, I don’t think so. You know how he treats me. I tell you all the time."
"Yes, but he hired a driver for you, to and fro. That’s something he’d do for someone he loves, not just his mere assistant. I remember when one of his past assistants was nearly robbed, and he didn’t give her a driver."
My mind drifted. Was that true? I hadn’t noticed. I always thought he was just being controlling, that the driver was for his own convenience.
After lunch, I went back to the office, but Damien wasn’t there. Probably out for lunch.
Hours passed with no sign of him, though his suitcase was still there and his things weren’t packed. Somehow he was nowhere to be found.
The building got emptier as time went by, but I stayed, waiting for him to return.
By 7:30 p.m. there was still nothing. My ride was already waiting at the entrance. I stood there holding his bag.
"Do you know where Mr. Blackwood might be?" I asked the driver.
"No," he replied. "But I think he’s at home."
So he left his things here and went home. Was he sick? Was he mad because of my resignation letter?
"Okay, drive me to his house. I’ll take it to him."
I was actually going to Damien’s house. I didn’t read too much into it, but somehow I felt anxious.
We finally arrived at his mansion. It was enormous—tall glass windows, dark stone walls, and perfectly trimmed gardens stretching around it. Everything about the place screamed wealth.
"Does he live here alone?" I asked the driver, just to be sure.
"Yes, he does."
A row of expensive cars lined the driveway, each one more striking than the last. Then my eyes caught one I was sure I’d seen before, though I couldn’t remember where.
Damien was already having dinner when he told his staff to let me in.
"Cassie, what brings you here?"
I was lost in my thoughts for a second. He was dressed in sweatpants and an ash-colored polo that brought out his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly wet, like he’d just finished a shower.
The whole place had this fresh scent, while I was still standing there with the stress and sweat of the day on me.
"Are you okay?" he asked, snapping his fingers and pulling me back to reality.
"Yes... I came to return your suitcase. You left it in the office."
He looked at me. "Thank you."
"I should be on my way home now..." I said, already stepping back.
"No, not yet," he continued. "You’ll have to have dinner here before you go. Take a seat."
I was shocked. He wanted me to stay for dinner? I didn’t feel comfortable. The idea of him watching me eat made me uneasy.
"That’s thoughtful, but I think I should get going."
"No, I insist," he said. "Remember, you owe me."
Right. The "you owe me" card. I had no other option. All I had to do was eat, then leave.
"Agnes," he called out. A woman dressed as a chef appeared. "Cassie, what would you care for?"
"Anything. Anything is fine."
He looked at me for a moment before turning to her. "Get her pasta and sausage."
"Yes, sir." She smiled and left for the kitchen.
How did he know I’d like pasta and sausage? Or did he just guess?
"Why did you choose the pasta and sausage?"
"Everyone loves pasta, don’t they?" he said. "If you don’t like it, I’ll call her back to prepare something else."
"No... no, you don’t have to." I smiled. "I actually love pasta."
"Really? I guessed right then." He looked proud and satisfied.
Twenty minutes later she brought out my food. I was already getting anxious around him. The way he kept looking at me made me want to know what was going on in his head.
"Tell me the truth. Why do you really want to resign from your job?"
Really? Of all times to ask this, it had to be when I was about to eat. I set my fork down and looked at him.
"I think I should be honest. I don’t like the way you treat me like I don’t matter." I paused. "It’s really tiring working for you, and I don’t think I want to do it again."
"Oh. That’s the only way you can learn to do things right. I don’t mean to behave that way."
I looked at him. Why did it feel like he was asking me not to leave? It felt weird and uncomfortable.
"There are other ways to do things, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I think my mind is made up." I continued. "It’s not about you this time. I genuinely need this."
"If that’s what you’ve decided, then I guess there’s nothing I can do about it," he said, standing up from his seat. "When you’re done, escort yourself out of the house. He’ll drive you back home."
Just like that, he walked out. I lost my appetite. I stood up, took my bag, and left.
—
I was already home, showered and dressed in comfortable clothes, checking a few things on my laptop.
Kate had already gone to bed, but I still had a little work to finish.
Just then my notifications went off. An email. I opened it and couldn’t believe my eyes.