The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows as you sat in the private lounge, letting the nail technician meticulously work on your manicure.

Cassian strode in with his signature unbothered elegance, the faint smell of his cologne filling the room. He had his suit jacket draped over his shoulder, his crisp black shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal the subtle gleam of the gold chain against his skin. A cigarette dangled from his lips, though it remained unlit, the slight bite he’d taken from it giving away his restlessness.

He leaned casually against the armrest of your chair, his piercing gaze dropping immediately to your hands. The technician paused momentarily. Cassian’s lips curled into a smirk as he reached out, gently brushing his thumb over your freshly manicured fingers. "Perfectly polished," he murmured.