Lyra's POV
She woke with a gasp.
Sheets tangled. Hair damp. Her pillow half on the floor.
And her body burning.
Not the heat, something deeper. A phantom weight, a voice curled low in her ear. She snapped upright before the memory could finish.
6:43 AM. Her heart thudded like it wanted out of her chest.
Cassian. Her. That marble desk.
God, the desk.
She hadn't remembered that part until sleep dragged it up. His hands flat on the cold white surface, her dress bunched around her hips, one shoe lost somewhere across the floor. His mouth at her neck. Her fingers buried in his hair, pulling harder than she meant to.
The sound of him, gravel and restraint, murmured against her skin.
She blinked it away, threw back the covers, and bolted for the shower.
Cold. Sharp. Rushed.
She scrubbed harder than necessary. Drenched herself in neutralizing spray. Pulled her hair into a tight twist and buttoned a turtleneck up to her chin. In the mirror, her reflection blinked back at her. Cheeks colorless, eyes tight with something she wouldn't name.
Late. She was going to be late.
She dressed in five minutes, fed a hissing Alexa who refused to make eye contact, and ran.
---
The subway was full of elbows and dead air. The Virelux building loomed faster than she wanted.
At the entrance, just as she approached the glass doors, he appeared.
Cassian Dorne. In the lobby. Walking from the private elevator toward the main floor.
Lyra's lungs seized.
She turned sharply. Almost collided with the security post. Ducking her head, she walked straight past reception and toward the stairwell.
Don't run. Don't draw attention. Just vanish.
Each floor blurred into the next. Her breath shallow, her thighs burning. Her palms slipped against the railing, heartbeat loud in her ears.
Nineteen floors later, she reached her cubicle, red-faced, slightly damp, clutching her bag like it held her spine together.
No one noticed. Thank God.
She sat down, turned on her monitor, and immediately buried herself in tasks. Calendar merges, internal memos, update requests. Anything that kept her fingers moving and her brain distracted.
Every ten minutes, she checked her scent. Sprayed again. Wiped her wrists.
Invisible. You're just invisible.
She worked through lunch, jaw tight against the gnaw of hunger. If she stayed busy enough, her stomach wouldn't matter.
Until, footsteps.
Distinct.
Her body stiffened before she knew why.
Then a voice.
"Cassian Dorne is doing a walkthrough today."
She almost dropped her mug.
No. No, he never came up here. Not to Admin. He had layers of assistants for that. Whole floors between him and them.
She turned to find Dara, her supervisor, passing off the message like it was routine.
And then, he appeared.
Tall. Black suit. No tie. Cufflinks.
Cassian stepped into the department.
Her department.
And paused mid-step.
His eyes caught something, someone.
They locked on her.
---
Cassian's POV – same moment
The Admin floor had been the last on his list.
A courtesy stop. A five-minute glance to satisfy optics and board reports. Proof that leadership walked among the lower departments once in a while.
He hadn't expected anything more.
He certainly hadn't expected the scent.
It hit him mid-step, so subtle it almost slipped by.
Almost.
But instinct didn't miss what memory refused to name.
It was the same as that night. The faintest whisper of warmth—sunlight and skin, cotton and breath. Not perfume. Not crafted.
Hers.
He stopped moving.
The hallway stretched in front of him, a maze of cubicles and polite glances. Nothing suspicious. No one looking directly at him.
Except—
"Mr. Dorne!" came a voice just behind him, bright and overly sweet.
Ms. Hensley.
She appeared beside him like she'd materialized from the floor tiles. Perfect posture, perfect hair, eyes sparkling with corporate devotion.
She beamed. "Welcome to the administrative floor. We've all been so excited about your visit. The team's productivity has been excellent. Especially since we heard you might stop by."
He didn't respond right away. His mind was still chasing the faint scent, trying to place it. Trying to match it with—
She stepped slightly closer.
"And might I just say, your decision on the Nymeris merger proposal was brilliant. So decisive. The entire executive office has been buzzing. Truly visionary leadership."
Cassian's mouth flattened.
The scent was slipping away.
He gave her a tight nod. "Noted. Thank you."
She lit up like she'd won a prize.
He moved past her before she could say anything else.
His eyes scanned slowly. Faces blurred together, familiar only in function. Until—
There.
Second cubicle from the corner.
A young woman sat stiff-backed, her head lowered over a spreadsheet like her life depended on it. Dark hair pulled back in a too-tight twist. Skin pale beneath the artificial office light. Slim hands moving too fast on the keyboard. Dressed in charcoal gray, collar up to her chin, sleeves tugged to her wrists.
She wasn't shaking, but she was trying not to.
He recognized her vaguely. Not a full memory, more like déjà vu. Something in the curve of her jaw. The slope of her shoulders. Familiar in the way a dream feels just out of reach.
She looked like she hadn't slept. Like she'd scrubbed her skin raw and then shoved herself into clothes just to function.
Like she'd run from something.
Or someone.
Cassian resumed walking, slower than before. Just a pass-through. That's all this was.
But he was no longer walking for appearance's sake.
He was tracking.
And whoever she was… she didn't want to be found.
He passed her desk without pause.
But the scent clung to his senses, whispering truths his mind hadn't caught up with yet.
---
Lyra's POV – minutes later
He didn't stop. He didn't speak.
But he'd looked. And that was worse.
When he left the floor, she kept her head down until the air felt safe again.
Then she heard them.
Three cubicles away, behind the printer partition. Gossip voices at half-whisper:
"Oh my god, he actually walked past me."
"Do you think he was looking for someone?"
"He totally was. Did you see how he paused near payroll?"
"Please, he wasn't looking at payroll."
Lyra didn't move.
Let them guess. Let them spin fantasies.