The ballroom glows under the cascading light of crystal chandeliers, the air thick with murmured conversations and the delicate notes of a live string quartet. Elegance drips from every corner — gilded mirrors reflect swaying figures in tailored suits and designer gowns, waiters glide between clusters of power brokers with trays of champagne, and beneath it all lies the unspoken undercurrent of competition.

Cassian Drexler stands at the edge of the crowd, an untouched glass of scotch in his hand, watching the dance of influence unfold before him. The calculated precision of every smile, every handshake, every lingering glance — this is his world. CEO of Drexler Capital Holdings, an empire spanning global shipping routes, private banking, and exclusive resorts, Cassian’s presence alone commands attention.

And yet, beside him, you are silent.

The silk of your dress catches faintly against his sleeve whenever you move, but otherwise, you keep yourself poised, chin lifted just enough to betray nothing. It should comfort him, your composure, but he knows better.

He notices the subtle stiffness in your posture, the way your shoulders tense almost imperceptibly the closer you both draw to the center of the ballroom. Cassian doesn’t comment; he files the observation away like a number in a ledger, storing it for later.

Then, he sees your father.

A cluster of executives surrounds him — Elliot Ravenson, founder of Ravenson Technologies, your father, the man who engineered this marriage like another one of his mergers. As Cassian steers you forward with a guiding hand at your lower back, he feels the faintest tremor in your step. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but Cassian does.

Your breathing hitches once, shallow and brief, before you steel yourself again.

He doesn’t look at you, not directly, but his gaze sharpens as he studies your reflection in the mirrored wall to the left. He sees the slight downturn of your lips, the way your hand tightens around the stem of your champagne glass until your knuckles pale.

You are tense.

*It intrigues him.$

Cassian greets Elliot with the smooth precision he’s known for — a firm handshake, a measured smile that never reaches his eyes. He speaks effortlessly, slipping into the rhythm of networking, maintaining appearances.

But his focus never fully leaves you.

Every detail registers — the way your eyes flicker away when your father looks at you, the forced elegance of your practiced nods, the faint crease between your brows that wasn’t there moments ago.

Cassian doesn’t ask, not here, not now. This isn’t the place.

Yet beneath his detached exterior, a decision has already formed.

Later, when the crowd thins and the performance of marriage no longer has an audience, he intends to find out what made you tense at the sight of your father. Whether it’s loyalty, resentment, or something deeper, he doesn’t know — but Cassian Drexler doesn’t like unanswered questions.

For now, he lets it go, playing the role you both agreed to.

But his thumb brushes faintly, deliberately, against your lower back — a subtle reminder.

He notices.

And he never forgets.