The black BMW SUV moved steadily through the crowded streets. Cassian lowered the window and leaned slightly toward it. The cold air brushed his face as he retrieved a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and drew in a slow breath.
"How is France doing?" Cassian asked Mark worriedly, though his tone and expression gave nothing away, except that the smoke drifted outward as his gaze followed the passerby.
"He is sleeping. His friends are giving him company, making sure he is safe." Mark replied despondently before going silent.
People rushed along the sidewalks. Office workers tightly gripped their laptop bags while students jogged ahead, eager to avoid being late. For a brief moment, Cassian's attention caught on a small cafe called 'Warm Land' they passed.
It was modest, yet something about it felt open and inviting. The decor looked simple but thoughtful, cosy without feeling cramped, bright without trying too hard. It stood in quiet contrast to the hurried world outside.
"Stop the car!"
The driver complied at once. Before Cassian could move, Mark stepped out of the vehicle, circled the car, and opened the door with efficiency. Once Cassian stepped out without a winter coat, he effortlessly drew everyone's attention as he tossed his cigarette onto the damp ground.
Many conversations came to a halt, and countless people slowed their steps to admire the alluring presence of a man who was nothing but devilishly handsome.
"Boss, every eye is on you," Mark almost whispered.
"Tell me something new, Mark," Cassian responded languidly.
Cassian was the definition of a man others tried to imitate. The way he dressed, walked, spoke, smiled, looked at people, and held himself, his every gesture, even the way he ate, set the standard.
His black hair fell neatly into place. His jaw was sharp. Every line of his physique spoke of a disciplined life. His dark eyes screamed of mystery and death. He wore black suit pants, fastened with a belt and a lion-shaped buckle. A white shirt clung to his perfect frame, defining his broad shoulders, sleeves folded to the elbows, leaving his muscular forearms bare. A black waistcoat sat close against his broad chest. He wasn't wearing a winter coat on this chilly morning when everyone else was in long black coats.
Does he not feel cold in this chilly winter? Every mind had the same question.
Among the younger crowd, especially the women, reactions were almost instinctive. They were all drooling over him while Cassian did not notice any of it. He never did anyway. It was an everyday occurrence in his life. So he never cared.
As soon as he entered the cafe with Mark at his side, the warm air wrapped around them as the bell above the door chimed softly.
The cafe, which had been quiet, soon became busy with people arriving for coffee and breakfast.
"If you wanted coffee," Mark remarked quietly, glancing around the room as it began to fill up, "I could have had it brought to you. It's getting crowded, and your safety may be compromised, Boss!"
"Relax! I want something different today. That's why I'm here." Cassian replied without any care.
Behind the counter stood a young woman, unable to suppress her grin despite wanting to press her lips together to look professional. But she failed. And no one could blame her when the most handsome and enchanting man stood right in front of her, not only brightening her mood but also her whole day.
"What would you like to try, sir?" she asked politely, her eyes sparkling with hope. Hoping that he would give her his number, just as it happens in the movies. While she was busy admiring him, Cassian was occupied studying the menu board hanging above. His eyes moved over the options before returning to her.
"What do you recommend?" He couldn't decide, so he would let the lady decide for him.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze for a second before clasping her trembling hands together. Excitement and nerves tangled as she admired his attractive face, especially his moist, soft pink lips, which looked kissable.
Mentally shaking her head, "Our pistachio cafe latte," she somehow uttered the right words instead of asking him for a date. "It's very popular here, sir."
"Two of those," Cassian decided, one for him and another for Mark. "To go."
"And a ham and cheese sandwich!" Mark added smoothly, placing his order alongside the coffee.
Moments later, they passed the drinks over in neatly sealed cups and carefully packed sandwiches. Mark picked up the bag with one hand and held his coffee with the other.
Cassian gracefully took his coffee from the woman, who was holding it as if it were her heart. Cassian gave her a brief nod before turning away, breaking all her hopes.
As Cassian and Mark exited, the cafe's doorbell rang, but the street's din drowned it out. Cassian lifted the cup to his lips to savour his first coffee of the day, and as soon as he took a sip, his expression shifted almost immediately.
Too sweet!
The woman behind the counter was too generous with the sugar. He thought. She probably added two or three teaspoons instead of one spoon for his taste. Without thinking twice, his hand drifted toward the nearby dustbin, which was outside the cafe.
"STOP!" a voice echoed, splitting the air, taking Cassian by surprise. Mark's coffee slipped from his hand and shattered against the pavement. His body reacted instantly and grabbed his gun before the woman's sound fully registered. The barrel was snapped into place and locked onto the young woman standing several feet away.
The people nearby on the street froze.
The girl who had shouted a second ago lifted her hands at once, palms open, eyes wide, and her breath caught somewhere high in her chest.
Seeing the woman's reaction, Cassian immediately turned to look at Mark, who was standing rigid with an arm extended, holding a gun aimed straight at the girl, ready to shoot her in the middle of a crowded street filled with office workers and students.
What should he do with his right-hand man? He sighed inwardly.
When Mark did not lower his gun, he shot him a sharp look, hard enough to make him consider what the fuck he was doing!
Mark's eyes flicked briefly over the girl, then over the people standing frozen around them, before he finally lowered his gun. The gun disappeared beneath his coat, though his stance remained guarded.
"It's a toy, people! My assistant likes to prank sometimes." Cassian gave everyone a reassuring smile. "Carry on. Nothing to worry about!"
"Yes, nobody is dying today," remarked Mark, and people began walking much faster than before, and Cassian was sure these people would avoid this particular street for a week.
Cassian turned his attention back to the girl standing a few steps away from him, her hands still up.
"You can put your hands down," he politely informed her. "He was joking. As I said—it's not real."
She hesitated at first, then lowered her arms slowly, her eyes darting once more toward Mark before settling somewhere near Cassian's shoulder.
Cassian observed the young-looking woman, swaddled in a thick black coat, the hood pulled low over her forehead. A college backpack hung from one shoulder, and her boots were scuffed and scraped.
While Cassian was assessing her, the woman's eyes dropped not to him but to the coffee cup still hovering above the dustbin.
"Are you going to throw that away?" she asked subduedly. Her voice is still unsteady from the earlier fright.
Cassian glanced down at his hand, surprised to find it was still hovering over the dustbin.
"Yes," he replied, feeling uncertain why this young woman was asking him, especially since she could clearly see he was about to toss it.
"Can I have it?"
Once again, she caught him off guard. This time, he took a moment to truly observe her. Her eyes were large and almond-shaped, with a rare, striking pale grey hue.
"You want this one?" He lifted the cup slightly to make sure he understood.
And she nodded immediately.
Cassian moved his hand away from the dustbin and extended the cup toward her, but not without feeling an unexpected flicker of strangeness because most women looked at him first—always him—but her attention remained fixed solely on the coffee.
Strange!
"What's your name?" he asked curiously, without meaning to sound eager.
"Cixi," she stepped forward, took the cup from him, and drank it in one continuous motion.
Mark stilled, and Cassian watched her intently.
People usually sipped coffee, savoured it, and walked with it cradled in their hands. And this woman named Cixi emptied the cup as though she were drinking water. Cassian was astounded. He turned halfway toward Mark, his gaze flicking to the sandwich bag Mark was holding.
Noticing immediately, Mark's grip tightened for a brief moment in protest before he passed it over to his boss.
Cassian brought his attention back to her. "I was about to throw the sandwich away as well." He held the bag out. "Do you want it?"
With caution, Cixi observed the sandwich bag, then Cassian, who smelled and looked expensive, then Mark, and then the sandwich again. "Why buy it," she asked carefully, "if you are just going to throw it away?"
Cassian suppressed a scoff on hearing her question.
Generosity was rarely questioned, especially not by someone who looked like she hadn't eaten properly in a day or two. "Do you want it," he asked instead, "or should I throw it away?"
"I will take it!" came an immediate response. She took the bag from his hand and walked away immediately.
She was already walking off when Cassian spoke again, a little louder this time. "No, thank you?!" The audacity of this girl was incredible.
Cixi paused and turned to look at the rich man. "Was this not discarded food and coffee?" She gave him a confused look before walking further away. And Cassian could only stare at her until she disappeared into the crowd.