Inevitable Reunion

My stomach plunged into a hollow void the moment Weston’s words registered through the receiver. My knuckles whitened around my phone as the room tilted.

I forced my voice to stay even, desperate to hide the sudden tremor in my chest. "What do you mean?"

Weston chuckled on the other end of the line. "Exactly what I said, Eve. He is going to attend the engagement party."

"I heard that part. But why now? How did you even convince him to come?" I asked, gripping the edge of the wooden desk.

Cassian Vane had not set foot on British soil in four long years, deliberately bypassing every family holiday, milestone birthday, and reunion Weston organized. Whenever Weston offered to fly to Moscow to catch up, Cassian declined without offering an explanation.

Weston sighed, irritation threading his voice. "I chewed him out over learning about his engagement through international news instead of his own mouth. Then he claimed corporate business in Mayfair brought him to London anyway, so the dates lined up."

Corporate obligations. Of course. Born into an immensely powerful Russian dynasty with intricate ties running straight into the state apparatus, Cassian moved through a stratosphere where ordinary rules simply did not apply. Even during his university years in London, his presence had carried a heavy, untouchable authority. Once he returned to Moscow to step into his family's empire, that distance became an impenetrable wall.

"Right. Corporate business," I murmured.

Weston cleared his throat on the line. "I have to get back to work now, Eve. Take care of yourself, and let me know if you need anything for the weekend."

"I will. Do not work yourself to death, Weston."

I lowered the phone onto the desk in our shared apartment. The silence in the room felt heavy, broken only by the steady click of Harper’s keyboard across from me.

Harper swung her chair around, her sharp gaze locking onto my face. "Why did all the blood just drain out of your face?"

I sank back against the cushions of my chair, staring at the darkened screen of my phone. "He will be at Weston’s engagement party."

Harper sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening in disbelief. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash a barrage of questions, but the rigid line of my shoulders made her pause.

She turned back to her computer screen, her jaw set tight. "We are talking about this later."

I rubbed my temples with cold fingers, silently dreading the inevitable interrogation Harper would demand once the dust settled.

The ensuing seven days dragged by in an agonizing countdown of dread. Every morning, the same realization greeted me the moment I opened my eyes: Cassian was coming back. Every night, I stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself our paths would never cross. London was huge. Weston’s circle was massive. There was no reason for us to speak. Yet the knot in my stomach only tightened with each passing hour.

When the weekend arrived, I deliberately engineered my schedule to miss the formal afternoon banquet at the country estate. I was unwilling to endure the suffocating scrutiny of my estranged parents or the terror of encountering Cassian in broad daylight.

Instead, I timed my arrival for the late-night club celebration in Mayfair, clinging to the desperate hope that a man of Cassian's aloof temperament would never bother showing up to a crowded nightclub after-party.

Pounding bass vibrated through the floorboards when I slipped past the velvet curtains around midnight. Dim crimson and indigo neon bathed the crowded dance floor, where well-dressed bodies moved in rhythm with the music.

Before I took ten steps into the venue, two heavy arms swept around me and lifted my heels off the floor.

"Little one! You made it!" Weston shouted over the music.

He caught me in a fierce, bone-crushing hug. Dark circles shadowed his green eyes, bearing the unmistakable toll of his demanding career, yet his smile remained boyish as he set me back down.

I touched his sleeve with a gentle frown. "You look exhausted, Wes. Have you rested at all this week?"

Weston steered me by the elbow toward the elevated VIP lounge. "I rest enough, Genevieve. We need to have a serious talk after tonight is over, by the way."

A prickle of unease flared in my chest. He had noticed my absence that afternoon, and his protective gravity warned me that a confrontation was coming.

Before I could process his warning, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music.

"Genevieve! There you are!" Camilla shrieked, hurrying across the private booth.

She wrapped me in a suffocating, theatrical embrace that reeked of expensive jasmine perfume. She pulled back with a manufactured pout, smoothing down the hem of her white silk corset mini dress. "Girl, stop being so painfully formal with me. I will be your sister-in-law soon."

A bitter taste coated my tongue. The sight of her polished face and gleaming teeth set my teeth on edge, dredging up the horrific memories of what transpired four years ago. My skin crawled with visceral revulsion at her proximity.

Forcing a tight, dead smile onto my lips, I handed over my wrapped gift bag. "Congratulations on the engagement, Camilla. I brought this for both of you."

"Oh, you are sweet," she cooed, taking the gift and tossing it carelessly onto a side table without another glance.

I stepped past her immediately, retreating toward the far corner of the plush leather sofa with a glass of dry champagne from a passing server's tray.

"Genevieve! You look even more stunning than the last time I saw you," Declan called out from across the low glass table, his signature charismatic grin spreading across his face.

Declan and Harrison were already slouched across the seats, drinks in hand.

"Declan, save your lines for someone who actually falls for them," I replied with a wry smile.

Harrison pressed a hand over his heart, feigning wounded pride. "Now you are breaking my heart, Eve. I thought Declan and I were sharing custody of your affection."

"You two are hopeless," I said, leaning back into the deep leather cushions.

I leaned into the distraction, throwing playful quips back at them while an intrusive, aching realization lingered in the back of my mind. Among all of Weston’s brothers-in-arms, Cassian had been the sole man who never joined in their teasing, treating me with an immovable, distant austerity.

Harper arrived half an hour later, easing my isolation as she slid onto the cushion beside me with a glass of wine. We folded into the thumping rhythms and loud conversations of the table, chiming in as Declan and Harrison argued over football.

I was in the middle of answering Weston’s question about my job when an icy, suffocating dread prickled down the nape of my neck.

The air turned thin. Every fine hair on my skin stood on end, my nerve endings screaming in alarm before my vision could confirm the threat. It was an unmistakable gravity—a heavy, suffocating pressure that pulled the oxygen straight out of the lounge.

Beside me, Harper suddenly sucked in a sharp, audible gasp. Her glass halted halfway to her lips, her eyes locking onto a figure standing directly behind my perch on the couch.

She leaned toward my ear, her voice tight with disbelief under the pounding bass. "I still cannot believe he ghosted you."

My chest locked, my breath seizing into shallow, erratic gasps. The blood in my veins turned to liquid ice as the reality of his presence bore down upon me. He was standing right there. Just behind me. Pure panic flooded my system, leaving me utterly unprepared to look into those feral blue eyes again.

My throat froze. I could not turn around.

Harper believed Cassian had discarded me like a casual fling and vanished into thin air. She had spent years harboring quiet fury on my behalf.

And I had no idea how to confess to Harper the terrible truth that four years ago, I had been the one to ghost him first.