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đź“– Until You Beg
Chapter Two – Branded
By Peace Lovie
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The door shut behind her with a soft click, but the sound echoed through her like a warning bell.
Don't lie to me again.
Cassian's voice lingered in her head—quiet, lethal, unforgettable. Zariah walked down the hallway with calculated grace, her heels tapping against marble like a countdown.
Step. Breathe. Don't break.
She refused to let him see her shaken. Not yet.
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The outer floor was a temple of power—black glass, sharp lines, furniture like something out of a designer's nightmare. Cold. Impersonal. Brutal, even in its beauty.
She hated how much it suited him.
A tall man stepped toward her. Dark navy suit, neatly clipped beard, a clipboard in his hand. His smile was brief, efficient.
"Miss... Nyelle?"
Zariah gave a slight nod. "Yes."
"I'm Elias. Chief of Staff." He gestured to the corner space beside Cassian's office—minimalist, glass desk, dual screens. "That's your workspace. You'll be managing Mr. Vale's direct schedule and correspondence."
So that was her place now—right next to the storm she planned to destroy.
Perfect.
Elias handed her a slim black tablet. "Your access credentials, floor clearance, company calendar. Everything you need is in here."
Zariah took it. Sleek. Smooth. Expensive. Just like everything else in this building.
And just like Cassian.
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She didn't move to sit. Not yet.
Elias gave her a look—professional but curious. Like he was trying to solve her.
"You're different from the usual ones," he said lightly.
"Usual what?"
"Assistants," he said. "They don't usually last long."
Zariah smiled slightly. "I don't plan on being usual."
There was a pause. Then he leaned in, just a little.
"People come here with motives. Some want money. Some want connections. Some want Cassian." He lowered his voice. "But none of them ever understand him."
Zariah met his gaze. "And you do?"
"I survive," he said simply. "That's enough."
He stepped back and added, "If you need anything... don't hesitate to ask. But take care of yourself."
"Why?"
He hesitated. "Because he won't."
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Zariah sat at her desk for the first time, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. Her reflection stared back at her from the black monitor. Calm, polished, unreadable.
But inside?
She was screaming.
Not from fear. From pressure. Rage. Obsession.
She was here. Inside the lion's den. Two steps from the man who took her father's life. And if she blinked wrong, if she breathed wrong, it could all burn down before she even touched the match.
She inhaled deeply and powered on the screen.
The tablet buzzed a second later.
Cassian Vale:
> Lunch. 1:00. Conference Room B. Don't be late again, Nyelle.
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She stared at the message for a second longer than she should have.
Was he watching her already?
Was he testing her?
Or did he just enjoy the sound of his own power?
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At exactly 12:59, Zariah entered the private conference room.
It was dimly lit. Modern. Clean lines and cold elegance. And at the head of the table, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, Cassian Vale sat like a king waiting for his next sacrifice.
He didn't look up from his phone.
"Sit."
She obeyed. Smoothly. Quietly.
There were two plated meals on the table—steak, wild greens, fresh bread, crystal glasses with wine she couldn't afford in three lifetimes.
She didn't touch it.
Cassian finally looked up. His eyes swept her, unapologetically slow.
"You didn't eat at your desk."
"I wasn't hungry," she replied.
"You are now."
She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Cassian leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
"I don't tolerate weakness," he said. "No skipped meals. No sloppy decisions. You're not here to look pretty and faint."
"I don't faint," she said coolly.
"Good," he replied. "I don't catch."
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The tension between them snapped like a live wire. Cassian picked up his knife, cut into the steak, and chewed without looking away from her.
"Eat."
Zariah hesitated.
"Unless you want me to feed you," he added, voice low.
She picked up her fork.
"Thought so."
They ate in tense silence. Her stomach turned—not from the food, but from him. The way he watched. The way he owned every room without even trying.
After a few minutes, he stood.
"You're coming with me tonight."
Zariah paused. "To what?"
"A charity fundraiser. Black tie. One of those rich people events that pretends to be about helping kids."
"And I'm supposed to… what? Serve drinks?"
He smirked. "No. You'll stand beside me. Smile. Keep notes. Look expensive."
"And if I refuse?"
Cassian leaned over her shoulder, whispering against her ear.
> "Then I'll replace you."
His breath was warm. His voice was lethal.
She didn't move.
"Dress sharp," he said. "You represent me now."
> I don't represent you, she wanted to spit. I'm here to destroy you.
But instead, she simply nodded once. Cold. Controlled.
And Cassian? He smiled.
Like he'd already won.
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