Chapter 5

Cassie tossed and turned on the massive silk sheets.

She looked at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was 10:00 PM. Her mind was buzzing with too much energy to sleep.

Her throat felt dry. She decided to go to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Cassie slipped out of bed. She was wearing a simple, thin silk slip dress that fell to her mid-thigh. She didn't bother putting on a robe. The penthouse was always kept at a perfectly climate-controlled seventy-two degrees.

She walked barefoot out of her bedroom and padded softly down the hallway.

As she approached the kitchen, she had to pass Garrison's study.

She slowed her steps. She looked at the heavy oak door.

The two-inch gap was still there.

A sliver of pale light from his desk lamp spilled out into the dark hallway.

Cassie stood outside the door, holding her empty glass. She debated with herself for three seconds. Should she push her luck?

Her survival instinct said yes. Strike while the iron is hot.

Cassie reached out and pushed the heavy door.

The brass hinges let out a tiny, almost inaudible squeak.

Behind the desk, Garrison's head snapped up instantly. His eyes were sharp and alert, like a predator sensing movement in the brush.

Cassie leaned casually against the wooden doorframe. She held her water glass loosely against her chest. Her posture was completely relaxed, a stark contrast to the stiff, formal woman she had been at dinner.

Garrison's eyes swept over her.

He took in her bare shoulders, the thin silk of her nightgown, and her bare legs.

Cassie saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. He immediately jerked his gaze away from her body and stared fiercely at the financial documents on his desk.

Cassie pretended not to notice his panic.

"I couldn't sleep," Cassie said softly, her voice echoing slightly in the large, book-lined room. "I thought I'd come bother you for a minute."

Garrison's brow furrowed aggressively.

He reached out and grabbed his digital tablet from the corner of the desk. He gripped the stylus, ready to write a harsh dismissal to send her back to bed.

Cassie didn't give him the chance.

She completely ignored his defensive posture and just started talking.

"When I was a kid living in Brooklyn, I used to have terrible insomnia," Cassie said, her voice light and conversational. "My mom used to make me count the sirens going past our window. It never worked. It just made me anxious."

Garrison's hand froze in mid-air. The stylus hovered an inch above the screen.

He tried to force his eyes back to the merger documents. He tried to read the complex legal jargon. But the words blurred together.

Cassie's voice filled the room. It wasn't loud, but it was vibrant. It carried a strange, soothing rhythm that cut through the oppressive silence he usually demanded.

"One time, I tried counting the rats in the alley instead," Cassie continued, a bright smile breaking across her face. She let out a sudden, clear laugh. "I got to twelve before I realized how disgusting that was."

Her laughter bounced off the mahogany bookshelves. It was a sound that had never existed in this room before.

Garrison took a sharp, deep breath.

He dropped the stylus. He lifted his head and glared at her. He poured all of his cold, intimidating CEO energy into that stare. It was a look that usually made grown men on Wall Street sweat and stutter.

Cassie's laughter faded.

She met his gaze. She didn't look away, but she saw the intense conflict burning behind his blue eyes. He was frustrated, but he wasn't angry. He was overwhelmed.

Cassie stood up straight, pushing off the doorframe. Her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a quiet sincerity.

"I know I talk a lot," Cassie said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. She watched his face carefully. "Am I annoying you? Do you want me to leave?"

The air in the study grew heavy.

Garrison stared at her. He saw the genuine hesitation in her eyes. She was giving him an out. She was giving him the power to banish her back to the silence.

His chest tightened painfully. His instinct screamed at him to push her away, to protect his quiet isolation.

He looked down at the tablet. He picked up the stylus.

He held the pen over the screen for a long, agonizing moment. His knuckles were white. The internal war between his trauma and his sudden, terrifying craving for her presence raged inside him.

Cassie watched his hesitation. Her heart sank.

She had pushed too far. She had triggered his defenses.

"I'm sorry," Cassie whispered, looking down at her bare feet. "I'll go."

She turned around, ready to walk back to her cold, empty bedroom.

SCREECH.

A harsh, grating sound ripped through the room.

Cassie gasped and spun around.

Garrison had shoved the digital tablet violently across the polished wood of his desk. It stopped right at the edge, facing her.

Cassie walked slowly toward the desk. She looked down at the glowing screen.

There were only two words written on it. The handwriting was messy, rushed, and completely out of character for his usual precise strokes.

It's fine.

Cassie stared at the words. A massive wave of relief crashed over her.

She looked up at Garrison. He was refusing to look at her, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He was embarrassed by his own concession.

Cassie broke into a blindingly bright smile. It was the smile of a woman who had just won a war.

She raised her empty water glass in the air, offering him a mock toast.

"Goodnight, Garrison," Cassie said cheerfully.

She turned and walked out of the study, her bare feet making soft padding sounds against the floor.

Before she left, she reached out and grabbed the heavy oak door. She pulled it shut.

Click.

The door closed completely, sealing him back into his silent world.

Garrison sat frozen in his chair. He stared at the closed door.

He listened to the faint sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway. As the silence rushed back into the room, his rigid posture finally collapsed. His shoulders slumped forward.

He looked down at the tablet. He stared at his own messy handwriting. It's fine.

It was a lie. It wasn't fine. Her presence was chaotic and loud and terrifying.

He reached out and hit the delete button. The screen went black.

Garrison leaned his head back against the leather chair and closed his eyes. But the darkness didn't help. All he could see was the image of her standing in his doorway, laughing.

Down the hall, Cassie practically dove into her bed.

She rolled around in the silk sheets, kicking her legs in the air. She had secured the bag. The ice king had compromised.

The trust fund was safe.