Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Rescheduled Aria Hartwell

Chapter 7

Rescheduled

Aria Hartwell

The last document was uploaded to Cassian's email at nine fifty-three in the evening, and I leaned back in my chair and let out a breath of relief.

My shoulders ached from bending over at the desk and typing away. My neck ached. My eyes felt like I had been reading in a moving vehicle. I had gone through four hundred and twelve pages of contracts, annotated every clause that needed flagging, reformatted things were necessary, and sent it in one clean, organized file with a table of contents. I sent the email and allowed myself some minutes of satisfaction. I did it. I was able to prove my point.

Then I stood, stretched until something in my spine cracked audibly, and reached for my phone to text James that I was finally free.

He was already in the lobby and he had brought food.

"I figured you probably hadn't eaten," he said when I met him at the elevator, holding up a paper bag that smelled like garlic and warm bread. "There's a rooftop place on fifty-eighth that does late seating. But if you'd rather eat here before we go—"

"Here first," I said immediately, because my legs were already wobbly from the lack of food. "Please."

We were halfway through the food at my conference table, with James telling a story about a catastrophic board presentation he had survived three years ago, when the door opened.

Cassian filled the frame with his brows furrowed together. His jacket was still on, which meant he hadn't left either. His eyes moved from me to James and back to me, and I could feel the immediate change in temperature as if his appearance had turned the room colder.

"You sent the documents." He said slowly, his eyes were still on me.

"Before the day ran out," I said pleasantly, managing a small smile on my face. "As agreed."

His gaze moved towards James slowly and with measures steps, and stopped a few steps away from him. "Whitfield."

"Kent." James leaned back in his chair easily, his face clearly as day, as if he wasn't guilty of anything, which he wasn't but the way Cassian looked at him suggested he was guilty of something. "We were just finishing up before heading out."

"Out," Cassian repeated, this time turning to give me a hard stare that almost made me choke on the food I just shoved into my mouth.

"James rescheduled our lunch," I said, keeping my voice entirely conversational. "We're going to dinner."

Cassian's jaw tightened and his voice came out in a slow, mocking tone. "I wasn't aware that personal relationships between colleagues were something you both found appropriate," he said, looking at neither of us in particular, which somehow made it worse.

James tilted his head with polite confusion as if he was hearing a reasonable rule being applied unreasonably. "It's dinner between colleagues. I don't think that falls under the policy."

"The policy exists to protect the integrity of—"

"Tom and Sylvia in the legal department..." I cut him off before he could continue, which worked because he stopped and looked at me with confusion all over his face.

"They've been married for six years," I continued. "They met here. Then, David Park and his fiancée in the strategy department. Helena Marsh and—"

"Those are different situations." His jaw ticked and his eyes darkened, sending shivers down my spine.

"Is it?" I kept my expression open, genuinely curious. "What makes it different?"

He didn't answer that, and James only smiled at him. A smile I knew was going to tick Cassian off.

"Perhaps we're next on that list," James said, and his tone was lightly teasing. His eyes flickered briefly between Cassian and me. "Me and Aria. As her uncle, I hope you'll give us your blessings."

The heat that moved up my throat and into my face was instantaneous and absolutely mortifying. I pressed my lips together and focused on gathering the food wrappers in front of me into a neat pile, which gave me more time of looking at something other than either of them. James was purposely riling Cassian up, and he didn't know better.

When I glanced up, Cassian's jaw had gone tight, his throat bopped slightly.

"Step outside for a moment, Whitfield," he said quietly, as if he was holding back from doing something dangerous.

James looked at me. I gave him a small nod, and he took his coffee and stepped, the door clicking shut behind him. Cassian moved to the edge of the conference table, his arms folded across his broad chest as he gave me a pointed stare.

"You don't know him well enough," he said.

"I know him better than I knew you at the gala," I said, and then wished I hadn't, because the air shifted immediately.

"That's precisely my point." His voice was lower now. "Going out at this hour with someone you've had one conversation with—"

"Several conversations," I corrected. "And he's a colleague. In a building full of people who know both our names."

"Aria." His voice was strained as he called my name.

I looked up at him fully. "I'm not going anywhere dangerous, Cassian. I am going to dinner."

"And after dinner?"

I held his gaze. "James is staying over at my place. It's a trusted location, I assure you."

"Your place? You and a man you barely know—"

"We will get to know each other tonight..." My tone was light and teasing, and doing the exact job I was hoping it would do.

Riling Cassian up. He stepped even closer this time, his nostrils flaring. "You're coming home with me, Aria."

His jaw was dead set. I looked up at him and scoffed. "And who are you to tell me where I'll be staying at? I'm only here because of the company, and you can only... Maybe command my obedience in the company and not anywhere else." I slammed my hand on the table and stood up.

"You have one choice, Aria." His tone got darker. "It's either you cancel dinner with Whitfield, or your house goes up in flames tonight."