Chapter 17: 16. She's Irresistible

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Adrian's P.O.V.

A year had passed since Susan and I ended things, yet the weight of it still lingered. I buried myself in work, taking on project after project, convincing myself that staying busy would erase her from my mind. But it didn't. I missed her terribly.

After that night, I couldn't even look at Sia. She had tried to be a rebound, but the moment I saw her face, all I could see was Susan—furious, heartbroken, and with tears streaming down her cheeks. The memory haunted me, making it impossible to move on.

Susan vanished from my life after that evening. For the first three months, I tried everything to contact her. She blocked me from all her social media accounts, cutting off every means of communication. Desperate, I resorted to sending letters, but as expected, I never received a response.

By the third month, my patience wore thin. One evening, while passing through the office, I overheard Adams venting to a colleague.

"I don't know how Susan managed all this on her own," Adams grumbled. "Her replacement is drowning, the team is falling apart, and no one knows where half the project files even are. She just up and left—no resignation, no handover, nothing."

His colleague sighed. "Xavier's not going to be happy about this. She violated company policy."

I paused just out of sight, absorbing their words.

A slow smirk formed on my lips. This was my chance.

I had someone plant the idea in Adams' head to report the situation to Xavier. According to company policy, if an employee left without proper notice, legal action would follow. Soon enough, Adams brought the issue to Xavier during their weekly meeting.

"Sir, there's a problem regarding a former employee from the accounts department—Susan Joseph," Adams reported, his voice cautious. "She left abruptly, without submitting a resignation or handing over her work. Her replacement is struggling, and the department is in chaos."

Xavier leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the desk. "And why am I only hearing about this now?" His tone was sharp, impatient.

Adams hesitated before continuing. "It wasn't clear at first just how much work she handled on her own. But now it's affecting project deadlines, and we're missing key financial reports."

Xavier exhaled heavily. "Get legal involved. If she breached company policy, we will take action."

I knew something no one else did—her permanent address. When Susan joined the company, we had filled out her documents together, listing her New York apartment address and phone number.

But when the legal team attempted to reach her, they discovered that all legal notices were being sent to mine apartment. Realizing the mistake, I immediately informed the legal team that they had the wrong address since she doesn't live there anymore. However, by then, multiple attempts to contact her had already gone unanswered, leading to mounting frustration. Adams, always eager to resolve problems, finally spoke up in one of the meetings, hoping to find another solution.

"Sir, we've been trying to track down Susan Joseph, but she seems to have disappeared. No responses from her listed address or number. Legal is struggling to get a hold of her."

Xavier's gaze sharpened. "And?"

Adams hesitated before adding, "Adrian might be able to help. He's from the same town as Susan. If anyone knows where she could be, it's him. And besides..." Adams glanced at my direction briefly before continuing, "He used to be close to her. He might have a better idea of how to reach her than anyone else."

I straightened in my chair, forcing a neutral expression. Finally, the opportunity I'd been waiting for. Xavier turned his piercing gaze toward me. "Adrian, is that true? Do you know how to find her?"

Keeping my tone casual. "I might have a few ideas." With measured confidence, I provided them with Susan's last known address. The legal team wasted no time in sending her the official notice.

But what happened next was something none of us had anticipated.

A few days later, chaos erupted in the office. Xavier had barely settled into his chair when the door burst open, and Adams stormed in, looking flustered. I turned in surprise.

"Sir, we have a massive problem," Adams blurted out.

Xavier arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What now?"

Adams ran a hand through his hair, his nerves showing. "Sir, Legal sent a notice regarding Susan Joseph, but—" He swallowed hard before continuing, "we just received an extremely angry call from your father."

Xavier's pen froze mid-signature, his grip tightening. "My father? Why would he care?"

Adams hesitated, then sighed. "Because Susan Joseph isn't just any former employee. She's the daughter of his best friend."

Xavier's expression darkened instantly. "What did he say?"

Adams cleared his throat and repeated, "He said, and I quote, 'How dare you send a legal notice to my best friend's daughter? Do you realize who she is?! This is humiliating for my family! What do you think this will do to our relationship with the Josephs?'"

I sat up straighter, my smirk fading. Xavier, on the other hand, clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white. "So all this time, she wasn't just hiding—she was untouchable."

A tense silence filled the room before Xavier suddenly stood up, pushing his chair back with force. "This is unacceptable. Who approved this legal action without checking her background?"

Adams hesitated, his gaze flickering toward me. "We—uh, we assumed—"

Xavier exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "This is a disaster. We need damage control—now."

My smirk faltered slightly as I absorbed the weight of the situation. This wasn't just about company policy anymore. This was much bigger than I had ever anticipated.

My torment didn't end there. By the fourth month after our breakup, my last bit of hope shattered when the first article about Susan surfaced—she was spotted on a date with a French businessman. The entire office turned to me, waiting for a reaction. Corey, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk, made sure his voice carried across the room. "Told you all, didn't I? Susan's not just some ordinary employee. She went from a management-level associate to dating a high-profile European mogul. Quite the upgrade."

"Unbelievable," one of the colleagues muttered, shaking their head. "How does someone even make a leap like that?"

Corey chuckled. "Connections, money, and well... she was never really meant to be one of us, was she?"

Another coworker scoffed. "She worked here just like the rest of us. Doesn't mean she wasn't serious about her job."

Corey shrugged. "Serious or not, she's clearly moved on—big time. What do you think, Adrian?" He turned to me, eyes gleaming with mischief, clearly expecting a reaction.

I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression unreadable. But the way my fingers tightened around my coffee mug gave away more than I intended.

They went on two dates, each one making headlines, fueling gossip, and making it impossible for me to ignore. The first was a dinner at an upscale Parisian restaurant, captured in grainy paparazzi shots—Susan in an elegant black dress, sipping wine while he leaned in, his expression smug. The second was at an art gala, where he placed a guiding hand on her lower back as if he had every right to be there.

And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, that arrogant Frenchman took it upon himself to boast about it in an interview. He reclined in his chair, utterly at ease, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as the cameras captured his every word.

"Ah, Susan... she is extraordinary, non?" His voice dripped with confidence, his accent only amplifying the arrogance. "A woman like her deserves only the finest things in life. She is elegant, intelligent, and unlike anyone I have ever met. Our time together has been magnifique. Perhaps, one day soon, I shall find the perfect moment to slip a ring onto her finger."

The interviewer, intrigued, pressed further. "So, you see a future with Susan? Are things getting serious?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as if he found the question amusing. "A woman like Susan is not one to be rushed. She knows her worth, and I admire that. But let's just say... I am an impatient man, and I know what I want."

The tabloids had a field day, plastering headlines about a potential engagement, fueling endless speculation. In the office, the whispers turned into full-blown debates. Corey, ever the instigator, leaned back with a grin. "See? Real men don't hesitate. Unlike some guys who spend five, six years pretending to love a woman and never even think about putting a ring on her."

Laughter rippled through the room, and another colleague smirked. "Fairy-tale endings in Europe—quite a Hollywood take. I never thought Susan had it in her."

"That happens, ladies, when we step out of our little bubble and see where the real deal is," another added with a teasing lilt.

Another voice chimed in, "I just want to see what happens if she actually accepts it. Now that would be a show."

"I mean, he's confident, I'll give him that," someone else mused. "But do you think she'll really go for it?"

Corey shrugged, smirking. "Who knows? But one thing's for sure—some people wait too long, and when they finally wake up, all they can do is watch from the sidelines."

I didn't react. I kept my face carefully neutral. But my grip on my coffee mug tightened, betraying the turmoil I refused to acknowledge.

The tabloids exploded with speculation, painting pictures of lavish proposals and fairy-tale endings. The office buzzed with gossip, and Corey wasted no time stirring the pot.

"See, real men don't hesitate," Corey scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Unlike some guys who pretend to love a woman for five, six years and still don't have the guts to put a ring on it."

Laughter followed, and another colleague grinned. "Fairy-tale endings in Europe—quite a Hollywood take. I never thought Susan had it in her."

"Right?" someone else chimed in. "That happens, ladies, when we go out of our bubble and see where the real deal is."

A few chuckles rippled through the break room, but another colleague smirked, "Of course. I just want to see what happens if she actually accepts it. That would be a show."

Another voice from across the room added, "I mean, he's confident, I'll give him that. But do you think she'll really go for it?"

Corey shrugged, grinning. "Who knows? But one thing's for sure—some people keep waiting until it's too late. And then all they can do is watch from the sidelines."

The room filled with knowing looks and murmurs, some amused, some skeptical. But I didn't join in. My grip tightened around my coffee mug as I forced myself to look indifferent, even as Corey's words struck deeper than I cared to admit. All I could do was watch as the world entertained the idea of her belonging to someone else.

Laughter rippled through the break room, but I didn't join in. My grip tightened around my coffee mug as I forced myself to look indifferent, even as Corey's words struck deeper than I cared to admit. All I could do was watch as the world entertained the idea of her belonging to someone else.

That never happened because, three weeks later, Susan was spotted on a café date with a Hollywood director, adding more fuel to office gossip. The sighting sparked immediate chatter in the office break room.

"A Hollywood director now? She's really leveling up," someone mused over their coffee.

"I just want to see what happens if she actually goes for it this time," another chimed in.

"Fairy-tale ending in Europe, business moguls, now Hollywood? Susan's really writing her own script."

However, the rumored romance fizzled out just as quickly—there was no second date. Though paparazzi never managed to capture her in magazines, her name remained everywhere. From gossip columns speculating about her love life to business reports highlighting her leadership skills, Susan had become an enigmatic figure, constantly drawing attention in one way or another. Whether it was admiration or skepticism, everyone had something to say about her next move.

I told myself I had to move on, but deep down, I was merely existing. The nights stretched endlessly, each one heavier than the last. The whiskey didn't just burn—it seared, yet it never numbed the ache. Success followed me everywhere, envied by many, but it felt like a hollow victory. No matter how high I climbed, there was always that lingering emptiness, a void that nothing could fill.

Current time...

Xavier's P.O.V.

Xavier's P.O.V.

Susan arrived in New York for the gala, and I ensured every detail of her stay was flawless—luxury accommodations, seamless travel, and personalized arrangements. As her host, I had to uphold appearances, even if her comfort was not my true concern.

"Hey, Rose. How was your stay? I hope it was peaceful," I said as she approached me, my tone polite but detached.

Not that I would ever admit it, but a part of me couldn't ignore the effort she had made—flying all the way from Baltimore to New York just to attend this business event with me. Still, I masked any sentiment behind indifference, convincing myself it was all just strategy. A carefully orchestrated move, nothing more.

Her presence here serves me in more ways than one. Firstly, it provides the perfect opportunity to sever ties with Cassie once and for all. Secondly, it strategically reinforces the strong alliance between our firms, drawing the attention of potential investors and opening doors to lucrative projects for both of us.

"It's great," she replies after a few seconds, her tone devoid of enthusiasm.

She's distant—intentionally so. I arrived on time to pick her up from the hotel, yet she left me waiting in the lobby as if I were just another business associate. When she finally emerged, there wasn't even the courtesy of an apology, let alone an invitation inside. Her walls are up, higher than ever, and she's making it painfully clear that I am no longer welcome beyond them. What did I do wrong?

"I am not Rose, and I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me that," she said, her voice cool and composed, yet laced with unmistakable firmness. There was no need for sharpness—her elegance carried enough weight to make her displeasure known. Perhaps she was irritated, or maybe there was a deeper reason for her restraint. After all, this was her first time attending such an event as the future CEO.

She was a vision in her dark blue gown, its fabric draping effortlessly over her frame with an understated grace. As she moved, a delicate tattoo on her back—an infinity design—peeked through, an unexpected contrast to her poised demeanor. Even amid the journey to the venue, she held herself with an air of quiet confidence, a presence impossible to overlook.

"Are you nervous?" I can't help but ask. She looks poised as ever, yet there's a tension in her demeanor—a quiet unease, like a performer about to step onto a grand stage, uncertain of the reception.

She casts me a cool, assessing glance before shifting her focus back to her phone, her expression unreadable. Even in this moment, she remains effortlessly graceful, every movement controlled and deliberate. But still, I keep her close. Possessive? Perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, I simply want to ensure she is safe and at ease. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Oh, this woman—she's entirely unpredictable. Last night, when she arrived, we went out for dinner, and to my surprise, it was genuinely enjoyable. She talks endlessly, and somehow, so did I. For the first time in what feels like forever, I found myself engaging in a conversation that wasn't business-related. Her stories were amusing, and we laughed—really laughed. It was refreshing, almost foreign to me, to be so at ease with someone. I never even knew I had a knack for joking until she effortlessly pulled it out of me.

And somehow, she managed to make me confess everything—every last detail about that night in Aspen. How I had taken her with me, how I had to pay a housekeeping woman to help her change, how she had pleaded with me to take her out of that chaotic party. She listened intently, her expression shifting from disbelief to astonishment. She was utterly shocked—not just by the circumstances of that night but by her own behavior. It was as if she was hearing a story about a stranger, not herself.

I assured her that nothing had happened that night. To my surprise, she even offered an apology for her behavior back at her home, particularly for failing to recognize me in front of our parents. Yet, she was so different from the girl I had met a year ago. Perhaps it was because I had encountered a more uninhibited, intoxicated version of her back then. We hadn't spoken much that night, but even so, the contrast between then and now was striking.

I can't exactly interrogate her, but there's been a shift in her demeanor since I picked her up from the hotel. Something is troubling her. Perhaps she dislikes crowds, or maybe the relentless paparazzi waiting for us unsettles her. Or perhaps, her latest intrigue, the distinguished Japanese philanthropist Hayashi Ken, has something to do with it. He arrived from Kyoto just last night, reportedly for no other reason than to see her.

His presence here, so sudden yet deliberate, only adds to the enigma surrounding her tonight. Could it be mere coincidence, or does his visit carry a deeper significance? Either way, it's impossible to ignore the subtle shift in her demeanor. And how do I know? Because I have my people keeping a watchful eye on her. I did not wait an entire year just to let another man come anywhere near what belongs to me.

"Wait here until I open your door," I instructed firmly. Left to her own devices, she would undoubtedly step out on her own. I knew she would. But I couldn't allow that—not tonight.

Leo, my bodyguard, swiftly opened the door for me. Stepping out of the limo, I made my way to Susan's side and, with deliberate elegance, opened her door. Extending my hand to her, she accepted it with effortless grace, her movements refined. As she emerged from the car, the sight of her took my breath away—long, slender legs accentuated by the daring slit in her gown. If I wasn't careful, this woman would be my undoing before the night was over.

Aware of her distaste for the relentless paparazzi, we had meticulously arranged for my security team to ensure a swift and seamless entry. However, the flashing cameras were as merciless as ever, their blinding bursts illuminating the night like a chaotic symphony of artificial stars.

"Miss Joseph! Who designed your gown?"

"Is it true that Hayashi Ken flew in just for you?"

"Are you two an item?"

"Is this a business partnership or something more?"

"Mr. Williams, any updates on your latest projects? Are you planning any new ventures?"

The shouted questions cut through the air, desperate and prying, but Susan remained the epitome of poise. She neither faltered nor acknowledged the intrusion, her expression unwavering in its serene detachment. As we stepped into the grand entrance, I caught the faintest murmur from her, a whisper lost in the sea of clamor. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled with deliberate grace, her lips curving into a subtle, practiced smile—a mask of elegance she wore with effortless mastery.

I lean in slightly, my voice a quiet murmur just for her. "Feeling better?"

She meets my gaze with an unreadable expression, then offers a soft, elegant nod. "Yes, thank you," she replies, her voice smooth, unwavering. The poise with which she carries herself is remarkable, a quiet strength beneath her refined exterior.

A faint smirk tugs at my lips. "Good. I'd hate to think our grand entrance was for nothing."

She tilts her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes, though she keeps her demeanor composed. "Oh? And here I thought you were enjoying the attention."

I chuckle, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Perhaps, but I'd rather enjoy your company instead."

Her lips curve into the barest hint of a smile before she turns away, the moment slipping like sand through my fingers. But for now, it is enough.

"Come, let's meet some people." With that, we step into the ballroom. From the corner of my eye, I catch several men stealing glances at Susan, their admiration blatant. Fools. They may look, but they will never have her.

"Xavier, it's an absolute pleasure to have you here." Mr. Wilson, the host of the event, strode towards us, his smile warm and practiced. A well-known businessman in his mid-fifties, he carried himself with an air of authority that demanded attention. I nodded at him, extending my hand to shake his in a firm, professional manner.

His gaze then drifted to Susan, and I could already anticipate what was coming next.

"Oh? And who is this stunning lady beside you? A date, perhaps?" His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes that I didn't quite like.

Before I could step in, Susan spoke up with effortless grace. "Good evening, sir. I'm Susan—Susan Joseph."

Damn it. She introduced herself. I would have done that, controlled the narrative. Now, he was going to be even more intrigued. And amused.

"Oh dear, are you really Joseph's first female heir?" Mr. Wilson asked, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise. "I must say, that's quite remarkable. Your father always spoke highly of his legacy—did he ever prepare you for this role?"

Susan nodded lightly, her expression calm but composed. "It was never explicitly planned, but I've always been ready for the challenge."

His lips curled into an amused smile. "I imagine you must have quite the strategic mind to be here tonight. A woman in your position—certainly a good opportunity to make new connections."

Before he could probe any further, I smoothly stepped in. "Excuse us, Mr. Wilson. I'd like to introduce Miss Joseph to some of my friends." My tone remained polite, yet firm, leaving no room for argument. I wasn't about to let him dig any deeper.

Placing a guiding hand at the small of Susan's back, I led her away with effortless grace. As we wove through the crowd, she cast me a sidelong glance, her lips curving in amusement. "Were you really that eager to rescue me, Xavier?"

I smirked, lowering my voice just enough for her to hear. "Rescue? No. But I do prefer to be the one shaping the narrative when it comes to you."

She arched a delicate brow, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Oh? And what narrative would that be?"

I leaned in slightly, enjoying the playful challenge in her tone. "One where you're exactly where you belong—with me."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as if unimpressed, but I didn't miss the way her fingers brushed against mine, lingering just for a second longer than necessary.

As the night went on, I found myself engaged in conversations, enjoying the event more than I probably should. Susan, on the other hand, wasn't quite as entertained—I could tell by the way she subtly critiqued the music arrangement. And honestly, I had to agree with her. For a grand ball, the music selection was painfully dull. Shouldn't there be something more enchanting to match the occasion?

While I was caught up in a discussion with Jason, my gaze instinctively drifted toward Susan. She stood a few feet away, effortlessly poised, a soft smile gracing her lips as she engaged in conversation with Ken. Their exchange seemed light-hearted, the kind that carried a subtle undercurrent of reconciliation. I watched as Susan tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes as Ken said something that made her laugh—a genuine, melodic sound.

He leaned in just a fraction, murmuring something that had her rolling her eyes playfully before shaking her head. Whatever disagreement they had before, it seemed to be fading into the background, replaced by something more comfortable, more familiar. And despite myself, I felt a twinge of something I didn't want to name.

"Stop glaring at her like that, Xavier. You look like you're ready to set someone on fire. Let her enjoy the night," Jason murmured, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I clenched my jaw, my eyes darting back to Susan, who was still talking to Ken, her laughter like a melody that irritated me far more than it should have.

"She's here with me," I muttered, my tone sharper than I intended. "I need to make sure she's fine."

Jason smirked, clearly enjoying my unraveling composure. "Oh, is that what you're doing? Watching over her like a devoted guardian? Or is it that you just can't stand seeing her smile at another man?"

My glare intensified, but he only chuckled.

"Relax, man. If you stare any harder, Ken's going to combust." He clapped me on the back. "Come on, let's get a drink before you do something you'll regret."

I exhaled sharply but followed him to the refreshment counter, unwilling to admit he might be right. That didn't mean I had to like it.

"So why is she here with you? How did you even find her?" His voice carried a note of disbelief, as if the very idea of Susan being within my reach was unfathomable. Then again, she was the kind of woman who lingered in your mind long after she had left the room.

I allowed myself a smirk, enjoying the irony of it all. "She's my uncle Joseph's daughter. I was at a family gathering at their estate, and there she was, sitting across the room like fate was playing some kind of elaborate joke on me. Can you believe it? After all the effort I put into finding her—I even hired a damn detective—only to realize she was right under my nose the entire time." I exhaled a dry chuckle, shaking my head.

"She used to work at William Shipping Corporation," I added, my tone shifting slightly. "But that's old news now. She's moved on to bigger things."

He nodded, amusement flickering in his expression, but his gaze drifted past me, locking onto something—or someone—just behind my shoulder. I followed his line of sight and found Susan, effortlessly poised, engaged in conversation. A spark of irritation flickered in my chest before I could stop it.

He nodded, seemingly amused, but I noticed his gaze flickering behind me, distracted by something—or someone.

"Xavier, she might already be in a relationship. Maybe you should rethink your approach." He always worried too much, but he still didn't understand me.

I smirked, shaking my head. "That doesn't matter. You know me—if I want something, I get it. And how I get it? Well, that's my decision. If she's in a relationship..." I paused, my lips curling into a confident smirk. "Then I'll make her reconsider. It's as simple as that."

His brows lifted slightly, clearly torn between amusement and concern. "And what if she doesn't want to reconsider?"

I exhaled slowly, my gaze locked on Susan as she laughed again at something Ken said. "Then I'll just have to remind her why she should."

Jason let out a low whistle. "Damn, you really are in deep, aren't you?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. Because deep down, I already knew—I wasn't going to let her slip away again.

"Xavier, whatever you do, don't turn around. Cassie is heading this way, and she looks absolutely livid." That was quicker than I expected. I was certain she wouldn't dare show up tonight. I'm certain the headlines are already buzzing with speculation about my date for the ball tonight. Believe me, they'll uncover every single detail about this. I have no idea how they manage it, but somehow, they always do.

I felt a light tap on my left shoulder, and instinctively, I knew it was Cassie. With a measured breath, I turned around, unsurprised to find her standing there, her expression unreadable. "Oh! Hey, Cassie," I greeted smoothly, masking any sign of unease. Keeping my composure was key; I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.

"Xavier, who is this woman you're here with? I'm your girlfriend! You can't just do this to me! We love each other!" Cassie's voice was laced with desperation, but I barely flinched. My expression remained impassive, though irritation flickered in my eyes.

I sighed internally. Hadn't she found a new man yet? It was only a matter of time—after all, she was one of the top models in the city, and men flocked to her like moths to a flame.

"Her name is Susan Joseph, if that answers your first question. As for the second, let me make it clear—we were never a couple, and love was never part of the equation. It was a fleeting arrangement, nothing more, and you agreed to that just as much as I did." My tone was sharp, final. I didn't need to waste another second on this ridiculous conversation. With that, I turned my back on her and faced Jason again.

Love? What a joke. If she loved anything, it was my wealth, the lifestyle I provided. She was entertaining, that much I could admit, but beyond that? She was a beautiful distraction—nothing more."

"Oh, Xavier, you didn't think you could be rid of me that easily, did you?" Cassie's voice dripped with amusement, her smirk taunting as she crossed her arms. Her confidence was unwavering, her presence nothing short of disruptive. I knew she was going to be trouble the moment I saw her.

Damn, Susan is heading this way. She just smiled at me—radiant, effortless—and despite myself, I smile back. There's something about her presence that makes it impossible not to.

"Oh, hey Jason! I didn't expect to run into you here. Is Mason here as well?" Her voice is light, curious, but something in her tone makes me pause.

Wait. Susan knows him? Since when?

"Me too, Miss Joseph." What the hell is going on here?

"Hello, Susan! I'm Cassie, Xavier's girlfriend." Her voice was saccharine-sweet, but the smug glint in her eyes was anything but innocent.

A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Oh, she did not just say that. "Girlfriend? Is that so?" My voice dripped with feigned surprise, but internally, my patience was wearing thin.

Susan, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly entertained. Tilting her head slightly, she offered an effortless smile, as if Cassie's presence was nothing more than a mildly amusing spectacle. "Hello, Cassie," she greeted, her tone smooth and unbothered. "Xavier speaks of you quite often."

What? When? My gaze snapped to Susan, but she only offered a playful wink, her amusement dancing in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing—indulging Cassie's delusion, letting her believe whatever fiction she had spun. And the worst part? She did it so flawlessly, that it only added to my growing frustration. Damn it, Susan.

"No, Cassie, we are not together." I stated, my tone sharper than before. "Susan, enough with the jokes." My patience was wearing thin, and Susan's barely contained smirk was not helping.

"You see, Susan, my darling boyfriend here is simply in denial." Cassie let out a dramatic sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I have an important photoshoot today that I simply cannot miss. But don't worry—I promise I'll be there for all the other events with you, honey." Her voice was dripping with mock affection, but I had enough.

That was it. I couldn't take this anymore.

"Come with me, Susan. Now." My voice was low, commanding, leaving no room for argument. Without hesitation, I took her hand in mine and pulled her along with me. She gasped, her fingers instinctively curling against my grip as she tried to pull away. But I wasn't letting go. Not this time.

"Xavier! Let go of my hand right now!" she snapped, her voice filled with frustration. But I didn't waver.

"Not until I have this dance with you. Now stop struggling, unless you want to be the center of everyone's attention," I murmured, my grip firm yet gentle. Her resistance was infuriating, but there was no way I was letting her slip away this time.

"I don't want to dance with you, Xavier," she said firmly, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I've already danced with plenty of people tonight." In reality, she had only danced with Ken. I fucking hate that guy now, despite all his so-called good deeds. But now, Ken was nowhere in sight, leaving an undeniable tension between her and Xavier. She folded her arms, as if daring me to challenge her decision.

I arched a brow, my patience thinning. "And yet, none of them were me." My voice dropped lower, teasing yet unwavering. "One dance, Susan. That's all I'm asking. Or are you afraid?"

Her eyes flashed with challenge, but beneath it, I saw something else—hesitation, intrigue. A war of emotions flickered across her face before she let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. One dance. But after that, you let me go."

I took her to the dance floor, and as if on cue, "All of Me" by John Legend began to play. Perfect timing. I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around the small of her back. She hesitated before placing her arms around my neck. Our eyes met, and she blushed slightly. I couldn't help but stare—her eyes were so deep, so expressive, impossible to look away from. Our bodies moved in perfect rhythm with the song. She relaxed in my embrace, fitting effortlessly in my arms. I twirled her twice, enjoying the way she melted into the movement.

She looked up at me, her gaze unwavering. Neither of us spoke, yet the silence wasn't awkward—it was comforting. It was as if our eyes were speaking for us, conveying things words could never express. I wanted this moment to last forever. My gaze traveled to her lips, the soft shade of nude pink drawing me in.

Something inside me ignited—a force I could no longer suppress. Before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us, my lips barely grazing hers, testing, waiting. She froze, her breath catching, eyes wide with shock. But I wasn't finished. With an urgency I couldn't explain, I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, letting every unspoken emotion pour into it.

She pushed against my chest, her resistance firm at first, but I could feel the hesitation, the uncertainty, the way her fingers trembled against my shirt. And then, just for a moment, her resolve wavered. Her lips softened, parted ever so slightly, as if she, too, was caught in something far greater than either of us. But just as quickly, she pulled away, breathless, eyes searching mine, filled with a thousand unspoken words.

And then, without a word, she turned on her heel and fled, leaving me standing there—stunned, electrified, and utterly lost in the aftermath of something I never saw coming. Jason watched with barely concealed amusement, while Cassie stood frozen, her expression shattering as she took in the scene. Even Ken, who had been lingering nearby, clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening at his sides, as though struggling to contain himself.

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