By the time I finished making lunch for Casey, I needed air.
Not just the kind you get from opening a window—but the kind that clears your head, resets your thoughts, reminds you that you're still… you.
"I'm heading out for a bit," I called, setting the last plate down.
Casey glanced up from her phone, fork halfway to her mouth. "Already? You just got done cooking."
"I won't be long," I said, grabbing my bag. "Just need to see Rick."
She nodded, chewing. "Tell him I said his desserts are still better than yours."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Rude."
She grinned. "Drive safe."
***
The restaurant felt different this time.
Familiar.
Like I could breathe again.
I spotted Rick almost immediately—leaning over the counter, talking to one of the staff. He looked up, and his face lit up.
"Nariah!" he called, motioning me over.
I slid into the seat across from him, exhaling like I'd been holding my breath all day.
"Well?" he asked, leaning forward. "How's the billionaire life treating you?"
I hesitated.
"Complicated," I said finally.
His brows lifted. "That doesn't sound good."
I let out a small laugh, but it didn't reach my eyes. "It's not bad. It's just… a lot."
Rick studied me for a second, then leaned back slightly. "Okay. Start talking."
I glanced around, lowering my voice. "Something happened last night."
"Yeah?" His tone shifted immediately.
"One of his friends," I began, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "Luther. He came into the kitchen and started talking to me. At first, it was normal. Compliments, you know… about my cooking."
Rick nodded slowly. "And then?"
I swallowed. "Then it wasn't normal anymore."
His jaw tightened.
"He got too close," I continued, my voice quieter now. "Wouldn't back off. Started saying things… touching me… I told him to stop, but he didn't listen."
Rick's expression darkened. "Did he—"
"Cassian stepped in," I cut in quickly. "He stopped it before it got worse."
There was a pause.
Rick leaned forward slightly. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, even though the memory still made my chest feel tight. "Yeah. I mean… I think so. Just…" I exhaled shakily. "It was embarrassing."
"Embarrassing?" he repeated, brows furrowing.
"Yes," I said quickly. "Rick, think about it. I just got there. First full day. And something like that happens in his house. In his kitchen. In front of him." I shook my head. "What is he supposed to think of me?"
Rick blinked at me.
"What?"
"That I can't handle myself. That I'm… I don't know…" I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Like I'm bringing drama into his space or something. Like I'm already making things complicated."
"Nariah," Rick said slowly, "listen to yourself."
"I am listening," I shot back softly. "That's the problem. My head won't shut up."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You didn't make him do anything."
I looked away.
"That guy chose to act like that," Rick continued firmly. "You didn't invite it. You didn't encourage it. You didn't ask for it."
I pressed my lips together, but my thoughts kept racing.
"But he saw it," I murmured. "Cassian saw everything. And now… I don't know. I just feel like—like I've already crossed some invisible line. Like he's seeing me as more than just someone he hired."
Rick reached across the table and took my hand, grounding me.
"Sweetie," he said gently, "he sees you exactly as what you are—his employee."
I frowned slightly.
"And the fact that he stepped in?" Rick added. "That tells you everything about the kind of man he is."
I hesitated.
"Does it?" I asked quietly.
"Yes," he said without missing a beat.
I studied his face, searching for hesitation. There wasn't any.
"Why are you so sure?" I asked. "You talk about him like you know him."
Rick leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his brunette hair before adjusting his glasses.
"Because I do," he said simply.
I blinked. "You do?"
He waved over a waiter. "Two drinks."
Then he turned back to me.
"Cassian Hayes," he began, like he was about to tell me a story I should've already known, "took over his father's company at twenty-four."
I sat up slightly.
"Hayes Holdings," he continued. "Real estate. Hospitality. Big name. Bigger influence. He's been CEO for… what, eight years now?"
"Eight?" I echoed.
Rick nodded. "And that's just the family business. On his own, he's an entrepreneur. Invests in restaurants, food ventures… places like this."
I looked around instinctively.
"This restaurant?" I asked.
Rick smiled slightly. "Yeah. This restaurant."
My eyes widened. "Wait—what?"
"He invested two years ago," Rick said casually. "We met at an event I was catering. I pitched my idea. He liked it. Funded it."
I blinked, trying to process that.
"So… he owns part of this place?"
"A percentage," Rick corrected. "But yeah."
"Oh wow…" I murmured, shaking my head. "That's… actually insane."
Rick chuckled. "Yeah, it is."
I leaned back slightly, my mind spinning again—but this time differently.
"So you've known him this whole time?" I asked.
"Not like we hang out," Rick said quickly. "But I know enough. He's not the type to tolerate nonsense—especially not from people around him."
I swallowed.
"He yelled at Luther after," I admitted quietly.
Rick nodded once. "Exactly."
The drinks arrived, but I barely touched mine.
"That's how you got me the job?" I asked slowly.
Rick smiled. "Pretty much. He and his friends come here sometimes. I've catered at his house before too. He mentioned needing a private chef—someone consistent."
"And you said my name," I finished.
"Of course I did," he said. "You're good."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"He asked for your portfolio," Rick added. "And I pushed for the live-in arrangement. Made more sense."
I blinked. "You did all that… for me?"
He shrugged lightly. "It wasn't a big deal."
"It is to me," I said softly.
My eyes burned slightly, and I quickly looked down at my hands.
"I've been drowning, Rick," I admitted. "The loans… the shifts… everything. This job—it's like…" I exhaled. "It's like someone finally threw me a rope."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
Then—"You deserve that rope."
I smiled faintly, blinking back the tears. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
"I should head back," I said after a moment. "Before I start overthinking again."
He laughed. "Too late for that."
"Not helping."
"You're doing fine, Nariah," he said, more serious now. "Better than fine."
I stood, leaning over to hug him.
"Thank you," I whispered again.
"Go," he said, patting my back. "And stop getting in your own head."
I pulled away, grabbing my bag.
"I'll try," I said.
But as I walked out of the restaurant, my thoughts were already starting again.
Just… not as heavy this time.
***
I got back just in time to start dinner.
The house was quiet again, but something felt… off.
Casey was already in the kitchen, sitting at the island—and for once, she wasn't on her phone.
She was eating.
Fast.
Too fast.
I paused for a second, watching her from where I stood. Normally, she'd scroll, laugh at something, barely touch her food unless I reminded her. But now? She was stuffing forkfuls into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days.
Okay… something's wrong.
I shifted slightly, debating with myself.
Don't ask. It's not your place.
But what if she needs someone?
You just got here. Stay in your lane.
But still…
I cleared my throat lightly. "Um… what would you like for dinner later?"
She didn't even look up. "Whatever my brother wants."
I nodded slowly. "Okay…"
That answered that.
I didn't push.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Cassian: Italian tonight.
Simple.
Direct.
I stared at the message for a second before nodding to myself. "Alright… Italian it is."
***
The kitchen came alive again.
Chopping boards, knives, the rhythm of prep grounding me. I started with fresh vegetables—zucchini, cherry tomatoes, basil leaves—moving automatically as I worked. Chicken marinated in herbs and olive oil, salmon seasoned and set aside, pasta dough resting neatly.
Risotto.
Creamy garlic butter shrimp.
Chicken parmesan.
Bruschetta with fresh tomatoes and balsamic glaze.
Tiramisu chilling quietly in the fridge.
The more I worked, the calmer I felt.
But every now and then, my eyes drifted to the living room.
Casey hadn't moved much.
She just sat there, staring ahead, her expression unreadable.
Should I go?
No.
But what if—
No, Nariah. Focus.
So I did.
***
By 6:10 p.m., I heard the front door.
Voices.
Cassian's first—low, steady, unmistakable.
Then two others.
I peeked briefly from the kitchen.
An older woman walked in beside him—tall, elegant, dressed in a burgundy jumpsuit that fit her perfectly. Her presence alone demanded attention. Beside her, an older man—grey hair, neatly trimmed beard, posture straight, composed.
Casey didn't get up.
Not even a glance.
Okay… definitely something going on.
Before they settled in, I focused on my task—drinks first, then plating. I moved in and out quietly, setting everything down with care, making sure the presentation matched the taste.
No mistakes.
Not tonight.
Back in the kitchen, I spotted Sarah, the housekeeper, gathering her things.
"Excuse me," I said softly. "Um… who are they?"
She smiled gently. "The lady is Evelyn—their aunt. And the gentleman… that's Mr. Hayes. Their father."
My eyes widened slightly. "Oh… thank you."
She nodded and left shortly after.
I leaned against the counter for a second.
His father.
That explained the tension.
After finishing up, I poured myself a small drink, just enough to take the edge off while I cleaned.
I was halfway through wiping down the counter when Casey appeared in the doorway.
"They want to see you," she said.
My stomach dropped. "Me?"
She nodded once.
"Okay…" I wiped my hands quickly and followed her out.
The dining room felt warmer somehow—conversation lingering in the air.
As soon as I stepped in, the older woman's face lit up.
"You must be Nariah," she said, standing gracefully.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, a little nervous.
"I'm Evelyn," she said warmly. "And I must say—this meal was exceptional."
I blinked. "Thank you so much."
Mr. Hayes nodded in agreement. "Very impressive work."
"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a small wave of relief.
At least something was going right.
Casey barely spoke as they prepared to leave, offering a quiet goodbye without moving from her seat. Cassian, on the other hand, walked them to the door.
I returned to the table, starting to clear plates.
The silence felt heavy.
I hesitated, then glanced at Casey.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
She didn't look at me. "I'm fine."
I paused. "You know… if you ever want to talk—"
That got her attention.
She looked up, eyes sharp. "Why?"
I blinked. "I just—"
"You just got here," she cut in. "And you want me to trust you?"
I froze.
"Stick to your kitchen duties," she added coolly. "And stay out of my business."
Then she walked off.
I stood there, plate in hand, feeling something sink in my chest.
Nice one, Nariah.
You just had to ask.
This is why you should mind your business.
My thoughts got louder.
You're a nobody here.
You don't belong in their conversations.
Just do your job.
I swallowed hard and went back to clearing the table.
Cassian returned not long after.
He walked in, glancing briefly at the now-empty dining space before his eyes landed on me.
"The food was excellent," he said simply.
I nodded. "Thank you."
He held my gaze for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, then turned and headed upstairs.
Just like that.
***
By the time I finished cleaning, ate, and got to my room, I was exhausted.
But sleep?
Nowhere in sight.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying everything.
Casey's words.
The dinner.
The tension.
Then—
Voices.
Faint at first, then clearer.
Cassian.
Casey.
I sat up slowly, heart picking up.
"You need to get over him," Cassian was saying, his tone firm. "He's not worth it."
"You don't understand!" Casey shot back. "I love him!"
"Does he love you?" Cassian asked sharply. "Or does he just love spending your money?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful.
I held my breath.
"Does he want you?" Cassian pressed.
Nothing.
Then—
A door slammed.
"Casey!" Cassian's voice followed. "Open the door."
No response.
"Casey."
Still nothing.
Then silence.
Long, stretched silence.
I sat there, my heart tight.
This house… there's so much going on beneath the surface.
I couldn't stay in my room anymore.
I slipped out quietly and made my way downstairs.
The pool area seemed like the safest place to clear my head.
But as I stepped closer, I heard movement.
Water.
Soft splashes.
My grip tightened instinctively around the pan I'd picked up from the kitchen.
Who's there?
I stepped out slowly—
And froze.
Cassian.
In the pool.
The dim lighting traced over his form, water moving around him as he swam. For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
My heart jumped into my throat.
Oh my God—
I couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Just… stood there, caught in the moment, my thoughts tangling into nothing.
Then his voice cut through the air, calm and certain.
"I know you're there."
My entire body snapped back to life.
Heat rushed to my face as I turned immediately, retreating without a word.
Go. Go. Go.
I didn't stop until I reached my room, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it, my heart racing.
What was that? Why didn't you move? Why were you just standing there?
I pressed my hands to my face, exhaling sharply.
Sleep wasn't coming anytime soon.
Not with my thoughts this loud.