Erin stirred awake, blinking against the faint morning light seeping through the curtains. Her limbs felt unusually heavy, and her mind fogged as she turned on the bed she'd claimed as hers for weeks now.
Then it clicked.
She didn't remember coming up to bed last night.
A slow wave of realization crept in. She'd fallen asleep in the car. That meant—
She sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "He didn't."
But of course he did. She was in her nightclothes, which meant not only had Xander carried her inside, he—or someone under his instruction—had changed her too.
She scrubbed a hand down her face, mortified. "Why is it always him?" she muttered.
Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood up and padded toward the door. The mansion was quiet, but not unfamiliar. She knew its rhythm by now—the creak of the second stair from the top, the humming radiator near the hallway window. Living here had settled into something dangerously close to routine, and that, too, made her uneasy.
When she entered the dining room, the smell of breakfast greeted her before anything else. Plates were already set, and the chef had clearly gone out of their way with the spread. Xander was nowhere in sight, but a small folded note sat near her plate, written in the handwriting she'd come to know well.
"I told the chef to handle it today. You had a long day. –X."
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the twitch of a smile.
As she took a seat, she heard footsteps approaching. Xander walked in dressed in all black, casual but tailored, effortlessly composed as always. His hair looked freshly tousled, like he'd run a hand through it one too many times.
"Good morning," he said like nothing was out of place.
"Morning," she replied, eyeing him with suspicion. "You carried me, didn't you?"
He raised a brow, then pulled out the chair across from her. "You drool in your sleep."
Her eyes widened. "I do not!"
"You're right. You snore, too."
"Liar," she muttered, reaching for the toast while trying not to smile.
They ate together, but the silence wasn't easy. It wasn't the comfortable kind either. It was heavy, layered with the quiet that followed forehead kisses and unsaid promises. Erin caught him watching her—more than once. He'd look away each time, but it was too late. She'd seen it.
At one point, she reached for the butter and caught him doing it again.
"What?" she asked.
He blinked. "You've got a crumb—"
Before she could react, he leaned in and brushed it off her cheek with the back of his fingers. The touch was light, brief. But it still made her go still.
He sat back down like nothing had happened. She didn't mention it. Neither did he.
Not long after, the doorbell rang.
Erin looked toward it, but Xander didn't seem surprised. "Cassian," he said simply.
Moments later, the man himself was stepping into the dining room. Dressed sharply as always, Cassian exuded a kind of elegance that was calculated and quiet. His eyes flicked toward Erin as soon as he entered.
"So, this is the infamous supposed maid." Cassian said with an amused glint in his eyes. He didn't even try to mask the way he was studying her. "I've heard far too little about you, and yet it feels like I already know more than I should."
Erin gave him a polite smile. "I hope that's not a bad thing."
"Not at all," he said smoothly, stepping further into the room and resting his arms over the back of a nearby chair. "Xander keeps people at a distance. Always has. But you… you're a different story."
Xander rolled his eyes behind him, crossing his arms. "You're not here to play therapist, Cass."
Cassian chuckled and extended a hand. "Cassian Wolfe. Head of operations. Also his assistant. And probably the only man who's survived Xander Volkov for more than a decade."
She shook his hand, firm and steady. "Erin Lane."
"Beautiful name. Beautiful face. And a sharp tongue too." He looked her over once, not lecherously, but with pointed interest.
Xander shot him a look.
"I'm just making observations," Cassian replied, still looking at Erin. "She's beautiful. Sharp. Calm under pressure. And clearly smart enough to keep you on edge. I'll admit, that's impressive. Given how unreachable and nonchalant he is."
Xander sighed. "We're not doing this, Cass."
Cassian ignored him. "No, really. You'd be surprised how cold he usually is. Even with me, his supposed best friend."
"I'm just doing my job," Erin said, completely unfazed.
"Funny," Cassian said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Because your job was to keep him on track. Make sure he fulfills his duties. And yet, ever since you showed up, he's been to the office less than ever."
Xander gave a small, annoyed scoff, but Erin answered before he could.
"I don't believe distraction is the right word," she said. "When someone starts acting differently, it's not always because they've strayed. Sometimes, it's because they've started paying attention to the right things."
Cassian went still. It was a bold answer. But he smiled slowly, clearly impressed.
Cassian let out a slow whistle and turned to Xander. "Where did you find her again?"
Xander smirked. "She found me."
Cassian stayed for a few more minutes, keeping the conversation light but carefully probing with every question. Erin parried them with subtle grace, never once letting her guard drop. By the time he stood to leave, there was a glint of approval in his eyes.
At the door, he glanced back and said to Xander, "She passed."
After he left, Xander shut the door and muttered under his breath, "He's a perfectionist. Doesn't get impressed by anyone."
Erin folded her arms. "So I'm not just anyone?"
"You're trouble," he said with a smirk. "But I have a thing for trouble so I guess that's a good thing."
"Thanks," she deadpanned.
"You're welcome."