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đ Until You Beg
Chapter Four â Cracks in the Devil
By Peace Lovie
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Cassian hadn't touched her since the kiss.
Not once. Not in days.
Not a brush of fingertips. Not a glance that lingered too long.
Nothing.
He didn't speak of it either. No reference. No smirk.
Like it never happened.
And somehow, that made it worse.
---
Zariah sat at her glass desk outside his office, tapping out a schedule for the week. She knew it by heart now â his meetings, his flights, his moods.
Cassian Vale was a man of precision. Control.
So when he started canceling things without telling her⌠she noticed.
So did Elias.
"You've made an impression," he said, glancing at her from the coffee machine. "He's⌠different lately."
Zariah didn't look up. "Define different."
"Quiet. Unreachable. Distracted."
"Sounds like all men in power," she muttered.
Elias smiled. "Maybe. But not Cassian. Not until you."
---
She should've been proud of that.
But it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like the ground under her feet was shifting.
She was here to destroy him. Not⌠affect him.
And yet every time she caught him watching her through the glass wall, something twisted in her chest. Something warm. Stupid. Dangerous.
She told herself it was strategy.
She told herself she was baiting him.
But deep down?
> She knew it wasn't just an act anymore.
---
That evening, she stayed late at the office â not because he asked, but because she wanted to understand him.
She sat at her desk long after the others left. Lights dimmed. Silence stretching.
Cassian's door was slightly ajar.
She stood, walked to it, and knocked softly.
No answer.
She pushed it open.
He wasn't at his desk.
But his jacket was slung over the chair. His drink half-finished. His laptop glowing.
Zariah's heart beat faster.
She knew she shouldn't. But she stepped inside anyway.
---
The office was cleaner than it should be. Empty of personal photos. No framed memories. No traces of family.
But on the corner of the desk sat a silver file. Thick. Locked with a band.
She reached for it â then froze.
Footsteps.
She turned just as Cassian entered from the side door, jacket off, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable.
He stopped when he saw her.
They stared at each other in silence.
"You're still here," he said finally.
"You didn't answer," she replied.
He walked toward the desk, picked up the file, and set it in a drawer.
"You were about to open it."
She didn't deny it. "Yes."
He watched her for a long, tense moment.
Then walked to the window and spoke without looking at her.
> "Why are you really here, Zariah?"
Not Nyelle.
Zariah.
She felt the name land like thunder in her chest.
He knew.
She swallowed. "What are you talking about?"
"I checked your references. Your school doesn't have a Nyelle Brooks in its records. And your ID?" He turned slowly. "Fake. Good quality, but still fake."
Her stomach dropped.
He stepped toward her.
"But I haven't reported you. Haven't fired you. Haven't called security."
He stood in front of her now. Close enough to touch. But he didn't.
"Because I want to know what you're hiding," he whispered. "And why I can't stop thinking about you."
Zariah didn't move. Couldn't.
> This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She was supposed to be the one exposing him.
Instead, he was staring at her like she was the mystery.
Like she mattered.
"I don't know what you think you've found," she said carefully, "but I'm not a threat to you."
Cassian studied her for a long moment. "You don't lie very well when I'm this close."
Then he reached for her hand. Gently.
His fingers curled around hers like they'd done it before.
"I've done terrible things, Zariah," he said softly. "But I never wanted to hurt you."
She stared at him.
Shaken.
Shattered.
And for a moment, she believed him.
But belief was a luxury she couldn't afford.
---
That night, Zariah didn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Cassian's voice replaying in her mind.
> "I never wanted to hurt you."
Too late.
He already had.
He just didn't know it.
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