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Cass's POV
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The tapping of the end of my ballpoint pen echoes in the conference room, the rhythmic sound punctuating the heavy silence. Each tap echoes off the sleek glass table, amplifying my growing impatience with every passing second.

Despite the distant patter of rain on the windows attempting to calm me down, my agitation only intensifies. My leg, crossed over the other, strains against the confines of my pinstriped pencil skirt, while my black heels intermittently bounce as I impatiently jig my leg.

I'm going to kill him.

Michonne had called both Rick and me for a supposedly crucial meeting this morning, and the fucker still isn't here, 20 minutes after the agreed time.

"If he's not here-" I begin, my voice laced with thinly veiled irritation, only to be interrupted by Michonne's attempt at reassurance.

"-He'll be here," she insists calmly, making me look over at her at the head of the table. Something in her expression tells me even she's not sure he'll show up. I shoot her a pointed look, silently wondering why she defends him.

"I hope you know that your 'star closer' is an insufferable asshole." I snap back at her, clenching my jaw as continue rapping my pen on the glass table. The memory of his threat in the elevator from a week ago still lingers, further fueling my profound disdain for him.

"That asshole is standing right here," Rick's calm deep voice interjects from my right, making me still, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Slowly, I pivot from Michonne's side to face Rick as he strides into the room, casually unbuttoning his jet-black suit jacket before settling into the seat opposite me. His associate Glenn quietly closes the door behind them but my gaze narrows as I fixate on Rick, shooting a withering glare in his direction.

"Twenty minutes late," I add icily, my grip on the ballpoint pen tightening until it threatens to crack. He really thinks he owns this place.

Self-righteous ass.

Since the elevator, Rick and I have maintained a frosty distance, with nothing more than gritted acknowledgments of "Grimes" and "Adams" exchanged in passing, malice in our eyes as we stalk past.

While I've managed to immerse myself in some smaller cases to distract from the lingering presence of this infuriating man, he's somehow managed to embed himself under my skin. No matter how many hours I pour into my work, slaving day and night, he still somehow pops into my mind at the most inconvenient times.

Rick's intelligent eyes, with their sharp gaze and subtle glint of calculation, catch my nearly splitting grip on the pen, prompting me to release it onto the table abruptly. The weight of his scrutiny feels like a physical force, compelling me to shift my attention to Michonne at the head of the table as she begins speaking, her voice a steady anchor amidst the brewing tension.

"I asked you two here because-"

"-Don't worry, I won't press charges," Rick interjects smoothly, his tone cutting through the air with that usual arrogant authority, making me turn to him with wide eyes.

Surprise darts through me as I realize he's talking to me, those piercing blue eyes locked onto mine. I blink in disbelief at his composed demeanor, a fleeting moment of disorientation washing over me.

"What?" I mutter, my voice betraying my confusion, making a flicker of satisfaction cross Rick's features. An immediate chill goes down my spine, a sense of dread settling in my stomach.

I've walked into whatever trap he's set for me.

Goddamnit.

"Your recent defamation, calling me an 'asshole' to our direct superior. I won't press charges as long as you apologize," Rick explains condescendingly, his head tilting to the side as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, beneath his recently trimmed beard.

I arch an eyebrow incredulously. You've got to be kidding.

"I urge you to check your definitions once again Grimes. It's only defamation if it isn't true." I retort smoothly, crossing my arms loosely.

Something flickers behind Rick's eyes, a glimmer of almost begrudging respect, but I quickly remind myself that's not the case.

"Not when it's subjective. And just so you know, even if I don't represent myself, I can get the best lawyer in Manhattan for defamation here in minutes," Rick assures me confidently, before turning to Glenn sitting at the other head of the table, between us. "Right?" Rick prompts, making Glenn nod, looking at me with the same arrogance his boss exudes.

"You're serious," I state flatly, my voice a thin veneer over the simmering frustration threatening to boil over. Rick smiles coldly before nodding at me encouragingly as if egging me on to say it.

"I would if I were you," Glenn adds quietly making me shoot him an icy glare that causes him to blanch, averting his gaze quickly.

I turn back to Rick with the same icy glare he doesn't flinch under, staring back at me unflinchingly. He's genuinely being serious.

I exhale heavily, closing my eyes momentarily to quell my rising anger. "I'm... sorry," I mutter through gritted teeth, punctuating the forced apology with a sarcastic smile, covering up the sudden bitter taste in my mouth.

Rick's grin widens into a surprisingly genuine and infuriatingly beautiful smile, catching me off guard. "See, wasn't that hard, was it, sweetheart?" he taunts condescendingly, unwillingly walking right into my trap this time.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to Michonne, who has been observing the exchange warily. "I'd like to report an incident of gender discrimination by one of your senior partners, Richard Grimes," I announce confidently, watching with satisfaction as Rick snaps his head in my direction through my periphery.

"You can't-" Rick starts but I whip my head in his direction in response, anger lashing through me like a whip.

"Wanna make it sexual harassment?" I challenge quickly, locking eyes with him defiantly. Rick pauses, nostrils flaring with barely contained aggression.

"You little-"

"Enough!" Michonne shouts, cutting off Rick, her voice loud and commanding enough to make us shut up. We both turn our attention towards her, eyes widened in surprise. Michonne lets out an exasperated sigh, briefly casting her gaze upward as if asking God for strength.

"This is exactly why I brought you two in. I have an important case and I need you both on it. You two have the best skillsets out of the other partners and I need you working together," Michonne implores, making my mouth part, her words sending a chill of dread down my spine.

She's assigning my first big case to be done with Rick fucking Grimes? No fucking way.

"Michonne-" Rick starts to protest, but she sends him a harsh glare, cutting him off abruptly.

"I am your managing partner. I expect you two to work together for once and realize the enemy is out there, not in here. We're all part of the same team." Michonne states firmly, her voice brooking no argument. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she exudes an air of exhaustion, as if she's a parent scolding two bickering children who just can't seem to get along.

Michonne grabs two maroon folders from the table and tosses them towards us, the thud of their landing punctuating her statement. Without sparing a glance at Rick, I pick up the folder and begin to sift through its contents, my heart sinking at the task laid out before me.

"I got a call late last night from one of my oldest friends. She's the owner of Southern Industries and has been slapped with a multi-million dollar lawsuit by Smith Industrial Corp. Her rival company," Michonne explains, her voice tinged with urgency as she outlines the details of the case. My eyebrows raise as I scan through the information presented in the file, absorbing the gravity of the situation.

"One of their business deals went sour and Smith is taking it out on her by trying to sabotage her company. It also doesn't help that he's an egomaniac," Michonne continues, her tone firm as she emphasizes the severity of the situation. I feel a weight settle in the pit of my stomach at the realization of the high stakes involved.

"I need you both on this. It's not some merger, it's a lawsuit that will decide my friend's reputation. You guys cannot fuck this up." Michonne stresses, making me look up to see her gaze flicking between Rick and me expectantly.

I nod, looking down with a hard swallow. This is one hell of a first case.

"Can you two do it? Because if you work together and do a good job of the case, whoever can present me the best closing argument at the end of the trial will be a shoo-in for Hershel's job when he retires." Michonne tells us, making my heart leap, her words igniting a spark of ambition within me.

My name would be on the wall.

Rick and I lock eyes, the same thought reflecting in his eyes.

"Yes." we both answer simultaneously and I can't help shooting him an annoyed look. Copycat.

Michonne lets out a breath that seems eerily like a sigh of relief, her posture relaxing slightly. She rises from her seat, her hands resting firmly on the table, looking entirely different from the Michonne I laughed and ate dinner with my first night here. It's admirable, to see her in her work mode.

And a bit terrifying.

"Thank you. And please for the love of God, don't kill each other," Michonne sighs with genuine exhaustion before turning and striding out of the conference room, leaving me alone with Satan and his little helper.

I get the extremely strong urge to say 'no promises' to her plead, but I somehow resist it.

Instead, I immediately start to plan. "I say we start with research into Georgia's state laws and regulations. Then we can call-" I begin, cutting myself off as I glance up to see Rick standing, his movements fluid as he hands the case file to Glenn before nonchalantly buttoning his suit jacket.

"I'm sorry-" I start, a scoff of disbelief escaping me as Rick smooths his lapels with an air of nonchalance. "Have somewhere more important to be?" I ask with incredulously raised eyebrows, my shock intensifying as Glenn begins flipping through the pages, unphased.

"He'll handle it," Rick replies casually, gesturing towards Glenn with a tilt of his head, his gaze returning to me with an air of indifference. It's as if being in my presence is a mundane interruption to his more important day.

My irritation flares as I swiftly stand up, smoothing out my skirt as I straighten my posture, glaring Rick down. There's a fleeting moment where his eyes seem to dart down my figure before, in a split second, his gaze meets mine again. His deep blue irises momentarily flicker with something unreadable before hardening with distaste.

"You're handing off your side of the case to Satan's little helper?" I demand breathlessly, half laughing at the audacity of the man in front of me.

Rick's eyebrows raise for a second, seeming taken aback by my referral to his associate. But that ever-present smirk on his face swiftly returns.

"So, I take that I'm Satan then?" Rick asks smoothly, his deep voice rumbling as his smirk grows with amusement.

I have to exhale steadily through my nose to calm my raging anger.

"Answer the question, Grimes," I snap impatiently, crossing my arms tightly, refusing to let him distract me from the matter at hand.

Rick sighs, sparing Glenn a glance, who's watching us like a tennis match. "He's my associate. He handles all my cases." Rick explains shortly, and I shake my head, my eyes rolling involuntarily.

"Maybe you shouldn't be labeled as the top closer in the city. Instead, Glenn is, because he's the one actually doing the work," I argue, my brow set with determination.

Glenn looks at me then, his brows raised, his mouth turning up with amazement.

"Don't let that get to your head." Rick snaps at Glenn before turning back to me, his eyes flashing with a volatile intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. "I'm getting that job. That's all that matters to me," he snarls, his words dripping with anger, only fueling my distaste for his arrogance.

"Good luck," I shoot back flatly, snatching my folder and pushing my chair in with sharp, deliberate movements. Rounding the table, I stride purposefully towards the exit, determined to put some distance between myself and the infuriating man who seems to thrive on antagonizing me.

But just as I reach the door, Rick steps forward, opening the glass pane and blocking my path. Before I can stop it, our bodies collide, sending an inexplicable surge of electricity coursing through my veins. I blink at him in shock, my breath catching in my throat as I feel the heat radiating off his body.

Rick's mouth parts, an unfamiliar look flickering in his eyes, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. I can't help but wonder if that shock was simply leftover static energy from the skirt I picked up from the dry cleaner this morning. That's the only explanation, really.

We're standing mere inches apart, trapped in the narrow space of the glass doorway, the world outside fading into insignificance against the backdrop of my thundering heartbeat. Refusing to yield, I raise my eyebrows expectantly, silently daring him to make a move.

Rick's eyes, intense and piercing, meet mine, holding me in their grip as he seems to recover from his surprise at the unexpected proximity between us. The air between us crackles with tension as we stay frozen in the doorway.

"I see you're not a Southern gentleman then," I remark, relishing the opportunity to wield my gender and good memory to my advantage.

Surprise flashes behind Rick's striking blue eyes, his eyebrows raising slightly at me reading him like a damn book.

My smirk grows as I continue, adding a light accent for effect. "I heard your little slip-up, cowboy," I murmur under my breath, blinking up innocently from beneath my lashes, knowing full well that my words will only serve to irritate him further.

Rick's jaw clenches at my jab, his gaze darkening with a mixture of irritation and something else I can't quite decipher. He wordlessly stares at me, the intensity of his gaze igniting a fire within me as the unresolved tension between us hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Rick retreats a step, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer before he breaks the moment. Feeling like I can breathe again, I flash him a sarcastic smile before I push past him, the lingering sensation of his touch still tingling on my skin as I stride out of the conference room.

As I make my way down the familiar halls, my thoughts are consumed by the enigmatic man who has managed to get under my skin in more ways than one.

Ignore it. Ignore him.

All that matters is getting this case done, and winning over that asshole.

Refusing to look back this time, I shake my hands slightly, trying to dispel the strange feeling that had shocked me after simply touching him. My mind is still reeling from the moment my body bumped against his alarmingly strong and warm frame. I inadvertently swallow, a strange fluttering sensation coursing through my chest.

Entering what everyone calls the Library, I find solace among the towering shelves of law books that span two levels—level 50 and level 49 below us. The impressive two-story bookshelf houses endless volumes, containing all the resources we could ever need. Around me, scattered lawyers at tables are engrossed in their research for upcoming cases.

Without hesitation, I join them, burying myself in the wealth of information, determined to prepare thoroughly and push aside the distracting thoughts.

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Hours pass in a blur as I lose myself in the intricacies of the case. The dim light of the library casts long shadows across the rows of bookshelves, and the silence is broken only by the occasional rustle of pages turning.

I'm not even sure what time it is when exhaustion finally catches up to me, my eyes dragging down the pages of the case file I'm reading. The muscles of my neck and spine ache with the familiar dull throbbing of working too long, and my eyelids are as heavy as lead with fatigue.

With a sigh, I lean back in my chair and run a hand through my hair, trying to ease the tension that has built up over hours of intense concentration. Despite my efforts, the laws I've been dissecting are starting to become a muddled mess in my mind, and I know that continuing to push myself will only make it worse.

Opening my eyes, I glance around the room, my gaze landing on Glenn and Maggie at a nearby table. They're surrounded by piles of books and open cases, their heads bent together in deep discussion.

A pang of jealousy shoots through me. Not only does Rick hand off the hard part of the job to his associate, but his associate then receives additional help.

Hell no.

Shoving off my table, I stalk over to the pair with purpose, determined to see where they've gotten. Glenn looks up first, his eyes widening with shock as I bend over, placing my hands on the table, looking at them expectantly.

"What d'you have?" I ask, tilting my head to the side to see both of them gaping at me.

"Or am incorrect in assuming you're going over..." I trail off, turning to read the page on Maggie's side, "... Georgia's complex corporate cases for 'fun'?" I ask sarcastically, looking at Glenn expectantly.

Glenn opens and closes his mouth, his wide eyes trained on mine. Then he closes his mouth, cringing slightly before giving me one nod.

"That's what I thought," I murmur, pushing off the desk with determination. I grab a stray chair and pull it to the spot at the head of the table, right between the couple who face each other.

"Michonne said we're a team. And if your asshole of a boss makes you do all the work, then it's only fair that you let me help without him knowing, right?" I question Glenn, raising my eyebrows pointedly.

Glenn just blinks at me, clearly unsure how to react.

"Feel free to tell him I called him an asshole again by the way," I add with a sly smile, making a small grin crack at the corner of Glenn's mouth as he looks down to hide it.

"She's right," Maggie says sternly from next to me, making me turn to her with surprise, satisfaction surging in my chest at her determined expression. Looks like I'm not the only one who disapproves of Rick using Glenn.

"Fine. This is what we've got." Glenn sighs, turning his case file to me. As he begins to explain their findings, my brows raise with surprise at the thoroughness of their research. Glenn and Maggie's strategy is somehow more effective than the one I had planned for, and I can't help but feel a newfound respect for them.

The three of us work for a few more hours, exchanging insights and discussing the ridiculously complex laws of the Peach State. I draw on the years of experience I have on them, offering different perspectives and problem-solving approaches. Despite the initial tension, I find myself warming up to Glenn and Maggie, laughing at their jokes and enjoying their company more than I anticipated.

I find it increasingly harder to understand why such a great and talented young man like Glenn is working under that tyrannical asshole.

We call it a night around 10 pm, feeling satisfied with the progress we've made on the case. After returning our books and gathering our belongings, the three of us wait for the elevator together.

"So let me guess. You're going to tell Grimes everything we figured out and he's going to get all the benefit without any of the work?" I ask, glancing to the side at Glenn who nods, avoiding eye contact.

I exhale sharply, shaking my head in disbelief as I look at the elevator doors.

"It's my job. I'm his associate," Glenn argues defensively, making me turn to him, my eyebrows drawn together tightly.

"No. His job is to mentor you. Not use you as his errand boy," I retort, my disapproval evident in my tone, causing Glenn to gulp nervously and avert his gaze once again.

Maggie meets my gaze, and I swear I see an impressed expression before she faces forward. "And you, Maggie, you're great. Why aren't you in law school?" I ask her, genuinely curious as she turns to me with raised eyebrows. Despite being a paralegal, she offered valuable insights and contributed significantly to our discussions, sometimes more than Glenn.

"She doesn't think she's good enough," Glenn mutters, earning a smack on his shoulder as we walk into the elevator. I spare the woman a glance long enough to easily see that Glenn's telling the truth.

I lean forward, pressing the button to close the elevator doors, glancing back at the two, focusing on Maggie's green eyes. "Just do it. Apply and maybe you'll surprise yourself." I say, offering her a reassuring smile before turning forward as the elevator begins its descent.

And unlike the time with Rick, I swear it's much faster.

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The sounds of crashing waves and seagulls squawking fill my ears as I stand at the edge of the cliffs in Northern California. Inhaling deeply, I take in the cold, salty air, letting it fill my lungs as if it could somehow wash away the turmoil swirling within me, just as it washes over the rugged coastline.

Below me, the dark blue waves of the Pacific Ocean churn relentlessly against the jagged cliffs, creating an explosion of sea foam and water spray that dances in the air, even reaching up to my face.

Despite the chaos of the crashing waves, there is a sense of calm- a sense of peace that envelops me. The vast and dark expanse of the ocean stretches out before me, endless and unfathomable.

For a moment, I lose myself in the sight and sound of the ocean, allowing its calming presence to soothe my troubled mind. In this moment, all my worries and fears seem to fade away, replaced by a sense of clarity.

Peace.

This is peace.

But my tranquility is violently shattered by the sudden intrusion of a familiar voice carried on the whipping wind behind me. My heart lurches in my chest as I whirl around, my senses on high alert.

"You sure you want to do this, Bunny?" He asks, the voice of the worst man I've ever known. The grating sound immediately sends a shiver of visceral fear down my spine, sending adrenaline shooting through me.

I watch in horror as my abusive ex-fiancé emerges from his polished Mercedes, slamming the door behind him. His confident stride crunches the grass under his shoes as he stalks toward me with purpose.

Panic courses through my veins, and I take a step back, instinctively retreating closer to the edge of the cliff. A stray rock tumbles off the precipice, its descent echoing in the vast expanse before dropping into the churning sea below.

Ice-cold dread envelops me like a soaking wet blanket, seeping into my skin and immobilizing me.

"I-I..." I stutter, my voice barely a whisper as I shake my head in denial.

I had thought I had escaped him, but here he is, standing right in front of me once again, a menacing presence that I cannot evade. As the realization sinks in, I realize I'm trapped, cornered by his looming figure and the sheer drop at my back.

I can't escape him here.

He crosses the distance between us with an unsettling swiftness, his footsteps echoing ominously against the backdrop of crashing waves. My feet are rooted to the ground beneath me, immobilized by blinding terror as my mind races to figure out how I can escape.

I realize I am the bunny he calls me. Small, cowering prey, frozen in fear with her little chest heaving and eyes wide as the hungry fox stalks toward her.

A bitter laugh escapes him at my obvious terror, his eyes cold and empty as they bore into mine. His irises are soulless pits that send chills down my spine, reminding me of the darkness that lies within him.

I don't know how I ever thought I could love such a cold, horrible, man.

"You know you can never escape me, right?" he taunts, his voice carrying over the aggressive winds that whip around us, adding an eerie edge to his words.

"You're wrong!" I shout back, my voice breaking with desperation as tears spring to my eyes, fueled by a sense of utter defeat. Maybe I can fight back, muster the courage to push him away, and make a run for it?

But my thoughts of escape are quickly shattered as I lock eyes with him. His face contorts with a calculated anger that makes my mouth dry up, cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

I swallow hard, pushing forward despite the fear gripping me. "I did it twice! And I will do it again, to get away from you!" I scream, my hoarse voice ripping through the air like a knife, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

My heart is racing, sending tingling adrenaline coursing through me as I choke back a sob.

...It all happens so fast.

His face contorts into a fierce rage and before I can react, he lunges forward with terrifying speed, his movements fueled by a primal instinct.

Then he shoves me.

Right off the cliff.

A strangled scream rips up my raw throat as I'm launched off the cliffside, hurtling down through the air with sickening speed. My stomach lurches at the horrible sensation of gravity pulling me down into the abyss below.

He just glares at me from the edge of the cliff, his silhouette looming over me behind the dark blue sky of early dawn. I watch helplessly as the outline of his body grows smaller and smaller, disappearing into the distance as I plummet toward the cold embrace of the ocean below.

The moment my body collides with the water, the impact feels like slamming into solid concrete. Searing pain explodes throughout my body, sending shockwaves of agony radiating through every fiber of my being. My scream is muffled by the sudden rush of frigid water enveloping me, invading my open mouth and flooding into my lungs.

It constricts me from the inside out, leaving me gasping and clawing desperately for the warm embrace of air as darkness descends, swallowing me whole.

My scream aches my eardrums as I lurch forward in my bed, my hands instinctively flying to my throat as panic seizes my chest. I gasp the incoming air desperately, my legs scrambling, until the relief hits my lungs and I no longer feel that horrifying pain of drowning.

I take a few deep breaths, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I struggle to shake off the residual fear. Gulping, I run a trembling hand over my face, the cool sweat clinging to my skin a chilling reminder of the nightmare that still haunts me.

My new bed feels too big, too empty, the vast expanse of silky gray sheets swallowing me whole. With a shiver, I slip out of bed, the hardwood floors cool beneath my bare feet as I pad across the room. Glancing over at the floor-to-ceiling windows, I'm greeted by the shimmering lights of the New York City skyline, a reminder that life continues to pulse here, even in the dead of night.

And as I leave the bed, the only male in my life I can trust, a scruffy dog with soulful eyes, lifts his head to watch me. As I make my way to the balcony, he hops off the bed and follows me, his tail wagging in silent solidarity.

I slide open the glass door to my balcony, the crisp night air brushing against my skin like a balm. Wrapping my arms around myself, I settle onto the patio, the coolness of the metal chair beneath me a stark contrast to the warmth of my own body. My dog follows, wagging his tail as he looks at me curiously. I smile at him briefly, patting his scraggly head, before looking back out to the city, relishing the fresh air.

Drawing my bare knees to my chest, I feel a sense of comfort ripple through me. Resting my chin on my knees, I gaze out at the sprawling cityscape before me. The bustling life of the city seems to pull me back to reality, reminding me that the harrowing events of the past are behind me.

The plants flanking the balcony sway gently in the breeze, mirroring the gentle rhythm of my breath as I sit in quiet contemplation, lost in the mesmerizing dance of the city lights and the distant hum of traffic.

Taking in deep breaths, I let the cool air into my lungs, allowing it to ground me to my reality of being here, not at the bottom of the Pacific.

You're here. You're alive.

______

Rick's POV - not too far away...
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Clenching my jaw, I lean against the metal railing of my balcony, the cold night air wrapping around my burning bare torso, sending goosebumps over my sweat-covered skin. The chill of the night is battling against the heat raging within me, like a physical manifestation of my internal conflict.

My skin feels ablaze, every nerve tingling with an intensity that I can't ignore. It's as if my blood has been heated several degrees, coursing through my veins with an unsettling fervor. It's alarming, to say the least.

Remembering once again why my body is reacting this way, I cringe, hanging my head and letting out a sigh of frustration that mingles with the small cloud of condensation escaping my lips.

For fuck's sake.

This can't be happening. Not with her.

But it did. My inner voice reminds me tauntingly, eliciting a thick swallow as I attempt to push away the depraved thoughts that had just consumed me, like tantalizing tendrils of smoke creeping into the corners of my mind.

I thought I was fine. Yeah, I was aware that she was undeniably attractive from the start. And there's something about being in her presence that makes my heart clench and delight curl in my chest when I tease her. When my words get a reaction on that beautiful face of hers.

But now, as I stand alone on this freezing balcony, her image burns in my mind, igniting a rush of emotions that I can no longer deny.

She doesn't have a permanent residence in the back of my mind just because she's my competition. Excitement doesn't dart through me every time I see her simply because I can taunt her. That intense shock of electricity didn't just shoot through me when our bodies touched early today because of the static in my recently dry-cleaned suit.

It's... something deeper, more than mere competition or satisfaction of bickering with her. It's a magnetic pull that's drawing me to her like a moth to flame.

And after that dream... my stomach wrenches, my eyes closing momentarily at the vivid memory that refuses to fade. Seeing her flushed face contorted with ecstasy and her undeniably beautiful body underneath me, feeling her perfect tight warmth, and the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me isn't something I can ever forget.

I groan, the sound escaping me as if it can bring me back to reality. Running my hand over my face in frustration, I pray the wind can knock some sense into me. But as I drop my hand down to my mouth, my gaze fixed on the city skyline, I find no reprieve from the storm raging inside.

The weight of my conflicting emotions about that enigmatic woman presses down on me, making it hard to draw in a breath.

You cannot have a goddamn crush on Cassandra Adams. You're not some love-struck and hormonal preteen, despite what just... happened.

Dread clenches my gut, a sinking feeling settling in as I realize the truth I've been avoiding. No matter how hard I try to deny it, the feelings stirring within me refuse to be subdued. Cassandra Adams is a relentless tide, pulling me deeper into uncharted waters, threatening to drown me in a sea of forbidden desires.

Running my hand through my disheveled curls, I shake my head in slight disbelief at myself, the self-reproach echoing in the hollow chambers of my mind like a haunting melody.

"You fucking idiot," I mutter to myself, the words a bitter acknowledgment of my weakness in the face of this undeniable attraction that will inevitably be the death of me.

__________________

A/N: I hope none of you will be offended at my lack of effort into the legal aspects of this story! I'm incredibly busy in my life despite writing consistently, so I genuinely do not have time to research enough to create a cool case for them to work on. So if I write anything unrealistic that is why, hopefully, it's not the part of the story you guys care about!!

Anyway, hope you guys liked it! It was kind of a filler chapter but the next chapter... oh that one is fun :)))