Not This Time, Don Cassian Chapter 07

Not This Time, Don Cassian Chapter 07

(Aurora’s POV)

I found a job in a small accounting firm in a quiet Illinois town.

During the day, I did bookkeeping and taxes for local shop owners. In the afternoon, I went to a nursing

home to help the elderly manage their pensions and trusts.

*Aurora, you’re really amazing.”

Paul, a firefighter, pushed open the firm’s door holding a bouquet of yellow daisies.

He was thirty-five, a lieutenant, and a widower. His wife died of cancer three years ago, leaving him with

their seven-year-old daughter, Lily.

Last month, I helped him get back nearly ten thousand dollars in tax returns and set up an education

trust for Lily.

“These are beautiful.” I took the flowers with a faint smile.

“When you’re working on the books, your eyes light up,” Paul said, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You must really love what you do.”

My hand froze.

In nine years of doing his books, Cassian had never said that to me. He would just say, “This report is well

done.”

I was about to speak when I felt a familiar, oppressive presence.

The kind of dangerous air that freezes a room. Only one person could do that.

I looked up. Across the street, a black Maybach was parked.

The window was half-down. Cassian was in the driver’s seat, his gray eyes staring coldly at the flowers

in my hand.

“Paul, I have something tonight. Can we do this another time?” I handed the flowers back to him “You should go pick up Lily.”

Paul followed my gaze and frowned.

But he didn’t ask any questions. He just nodded and left.

I didn’t go over. I walked into the bakery next door and ordered a coffee.

I needed a moment for my heart to stop pounding.

The Maybach didn’t move. Cassian didn’t get out.

We faced each other from across the street in silence.

An hour later, I finally walked out of the bakery.

Cassian got out of the car. He was thinner, with dark circles under his eyes.

He strode toward me, snatched the coffee from my hand, and threw it in the trash

Then he grabbed my arm and dragged me into a deserted alley.

“So this is what you left me for?” He pinned me against the wall, his voice raw with a fury I’d never heard before. “A firefighter with cheap daisies? This is the ‘clean’ life you wanted? Doing books for nobodies in

this shithole town?”

Jealousy and possession burned in his eyes,

“At least every dollar in these books is clean,” I said, wrenching my arm free. I looked at him coldly.

The words hit their mark.

His anger faltered. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket-the last note from the lists I’d

left.

“Then what about this?” He slammed it against the wall next to my head. “Why did you leave this before you left? You hate me, but you leave me the one thing that could save my life. Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Or are you trying to show me that even after everything I did to you, you still love me?”

I looked at his face, twisted with confusion and rage, and found it incredibly ironic.

“Cassian,” I said slowly, “the day you gave the charity to Camilla, that list was already in my drawer”

“The day I walked out of that estate, I could have burned it and let your empire collapse overnight”

“But I didn’t. You know why?”

I stared right into his eyes. “Because I was waiting. Waiting for you to ask me just once-Aurora, are you alright?”

“But you never did.”

Cassian’s lips trembled. He couldn’t say a word.

“All you ever saw was that I was quiet, useful, and out of your way. In six years, did you ever once, truly,

care about what I wanted?”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue, but all that came out was a shaky question.

“Aurora,” his voice was hoarse, “did you know… the first time I made you cook the books, you were only

seventeen.”