It took us around an hour to get to the Canborne cabin. Well, it was more of an exquisite mansion rather than a cabin, but who am I to judge? The sprawling estate exuded opulence, with its grand entrance, meticulously ndscaped gardens, and the soft glow of lights illuminating the path to the front door. As we pulled up, I couldn’t help but be struck by the sheer elegance of the pce. It was a testament to the Canborne family’s wealth and status in the corporate world. There were a few cars in front of us that were pulling up as well. The valets at the entrance made quick work of keeping all the people flowing. There were quite a few guests who were attending today. I turn to look at Vivi. She looked very nervous about being here. This nervousness wasn’t there before, so I wondered what changed. Or maybe she was just hiding it from me before.

  “Hey...you okay?” I ask gently. I pce my hand over hers.

  “Yeah...just fine. It’s just..wow...the Canbornes. We’ve been invited by the Canbornes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Vivi, you do realize that they’re not as exclusive as you think?”

  “I know, but still..wow!”

  I squeeze her hand, “We belong here just as much as the rest of them. Perhaps even more so, alright?”

  She gave me a quick nod before Gerald spoke up. “I hope both of you have a wonderful evening. I will be waiting for you in the parking lot.”

  We reached the entrance of the cabin, and two valet attendants opened our doors. They then proceeded to give Gerald the directions on where to go while both of us made our way to the front door of the cabin. The path was lined with soft, glowing lights, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. The door was already open, and two women stood by either side of the entrance with a warm smile on their faces. “Ms. Esme and Genevieve Rothbride. Welcome.”

  As we stepped inside the cabin-turned-mansion, we were greeted by an opulent and breathtaking scene. The entrance hall was grand, with high, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate woodwork and sparkling chandeliers that bathed the room in a warm, golden glow. The walls were lined with rich, dark wood paneling, giving the space an air of timeless elegance. The main area had been beautifully arranged for the dinner party. Large, round tables draped in luxurious, cream-colored linens were set with fine china, gleaming silverware, and crystal gssware. Each table was adorned with eborate centerpieces of fresh flowers.

  The soft hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the gentle strains of live cssical music pyed by a string quartet in the corner. Plush, upholstered chairs in deep burgundy and gold provided comfortable seating for the guests. The flickering candlelight added a romantic and intimate atmosphere, making the room feel both grand and inviting. Elegant tapestries and art pieces adorned the walls. The rge windows offered a stunning view of the surrounding woods, their beauty enhanced by the soft lighting from the mansion. A grand staircase led up to the second floor, where balconies overlooked the main hall, allowing guests to take in the entire scene from above.

  “Wo expense spared, huh?” Vivi whispered from beside me. Her mouth nearly hung open.

  I had no words. Fancy homes don’t really faze me, but this was just next-level vish. Who would really want to buy a cabin in the middle of nowhere and turn it into the most vish and luxurious pce to stay? If this was their small getaway, I couldn’t wait to see what their actual homes looked like. They would probably make this pce look like a child’s pyroom.

  “Well...I suppose it’s time to mingle.” I groan inwardly. I hate talking to these people. Everything they say will likely have an ulterior motive behind it. “If anyone starts asking about the details of the company, tell them to come to me. Don’t talk to them about anything reted to it, alright.”

  Vivi nods; she likely understood why I had to say this. She does know about the people with less than gracious intentions. They would kill for an opportunity to take down one of their competitors. “Of course, you’re better at handling those situations than me. I’m just here to give you support and make sure things don’t go off the rails. By the way, if I hear that you made snide comments at any of these people, you will be hearing from me. Control, alright?”

  “Of course, you always know how to sweet-talk them better than I do. I’m more interested in ‘if you have nothing good to offer me, get out’”

  “I know! This is why you have to keep me with you. Can never trust you to make a proper deal.”

  We both ughed and began to go our separate ways. She headed towards the patio where a group of people seemed to be chatting away. I, on the other hand, made a beeline straight to the pop-up bar. The bar was set up elegantly, with a polished wooden counter and a wide array of bottles gleaming under soft, ambient lighting. A bartender was busy crafting drinks, moving with a practiced ease that was almost mesmerizing. I approached the bar, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of a drink to steady my nerves.

  “What can I get for you?” the bartender asked with a friendly smile.

  “Anything strong, please, preferably whiskey,” I replied, returning the smile.

  He had my drink ready in a few moments. I thanked him and picked it up. I had already taken a seat by the bar, so why get up now? I swivel the seat to face the people behind me. I wanted to observe before I made a move. I take a sip of the whiskey, relishing the sharp burning sensation down my throat. It’s been a while since I’ve had such good alcohol. I made a mental note to ask him what this was. I continue to look around at the various people making conversations.

  “I see you’re a woman of strong tastes…” The voice was low, smooth, and deliberate, like velvet ced with steel. I turned, startled, and found myself face-to-face with a man who seemed carved from shadow and moonlight. He stood tall, his presence quiet but undeniable. His hair was styled in a wolf cut, the yered strands falling just past his cheekbones, with icy white highlights streaking through the dark like lightning in a midnight sky. It framed his face with a kind of wild elegance, controlled chaos.

  He wore a sleek, obsidian suit that clung to his lean frame like it had been stitched onto him. Beneath it, a bck turtleneck hugged his neck and shoulders, the soft fabric drawing the eye to the sharp angles of his jawline and the cool fire in his gaze. His eyes were piercing, dark, unreadable, and yet somehow full of intent. His brows were perfectly arched, adding a quiet ferocity to his expression.

  “Like what you see?” he asked, lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  I cleared my throat, trying to steady myself. “My apologies. I didn’t expect someone to approach me.”

  But I couldn’t deny it, he was striking. His jawline was clean and defined, his cheekbones high and sculpted, giving his face a structure that felt both regal and dangerous. His nose was straight, his lips full and expressive, now teasing with a hint of amusement. He didn’t need to say much. He didn’t need to move much. He simply existed, and that was enough to shift the gravity of the room.

  “Right of course. I just didn’t expect to see a young dy already making herself comfortable at the bar.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I do have strong tastes, Mr….?”

  “Canborne. I’m Cassian Canborne..and you must be..?” He extends his hand, expecting me to shake it.

  So this is the great Cassian Canborne, hm? I took his hand and shook it firmly. “I’m Esme Rothbride...”

  “Ah, yes...you must be the one who handles Rothbride Industries?”

  “I am. Yes.”

  “Maybe you’re going to be more effective than your sister. I’ve always thought of her as too soft to handle such a company. I hear you are more...ruthless?”

  My lips tighten just a bit. I didn’t need this random man to call my sister incompetent. But if I let my temper loose, especially in front of the son of Viktor Canborne, I can be assured of the complete failure of Rothbride Industries. “Well, I think my sister has done a wonderful job in my absence.”

  “I hear that you left the country to take care of your international affairs?”

  “Yes, it was a very eventful trip and, dare I say, successful.”

  “I’m just surprised you’ve turned your thoughts to international buyers just now. I had assumed that your Industries was far more influential than that.”

  I force out a smile. This guy was definitely getting on my nerves. Who does he think he is? Just because he’s Viktor’s son doesn’t mean he can completely trash me with a straight face. “I wasn’t as aware of the role that I had to py as I am now.”

  Before Cassian could make any move to say something back, another man stepped up next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “Forgive my older brother, but he tends to speak his mind. I apologize for his bluntness, Ms...?”

  “This is Ms. Esme Rothbride, brother. And we were just having a friendly conversation. I don’t think I’ve said anything offensive to her.”

  His brother just chuckled awkwardly. “Please excuse him, Ms. Rothbride. He can be an idiot. My name is Damien Canborne.”

  I nod, “Pleasure to meet you, and please, call me Esme.” I observe the younger Canborne. He’s the stark opposite of his brother. He’s tall, but his presence isn’t imposing; instead exuding warmth and approachability. His hair is cut shorter but still long enough to reach just below his ears in soft, wavy bck strands. He’s dressed formally in a well-tailored soft gray suit. The fabric of his suit drapes comfortably over his broad shoulders, giving him a polished yet rexed look. His eyes are soft and kind, exuding a gentle curiosity that makes me feel instantly comfortable. His smile is charming and genuine, lighting up his entire face and adding a sparkle to his eyes.

  Damn, where his brother was harsh and monotone, Damien seemed to be soft and colorful. They seem to exude the same dynamic that my sister and I share. Speaking of my sister, she was making her way over to the bar. She originally didn’t see the two men whom I was talking to. Her attention was focused solely on me and the cup in my hands. Her gring face made it very obvious that I was busted. When she reaches my side, she takes the cup away from me.

  “How many times have I said it! No more alcohol for the time being!” She gres at me, completely disregarding the two men standing beside me. I didn’t say anything to her, trying to hint that there were two very important people standing next to me. I hoped she got the hint and refrained from embarrassing me further! I mean, what kind of CEO gets scolded by her little sister for drinking? Thankfully, she noticed my awkward silence and finally recognized the two men. She clears her throat, “Ah..excuse me. I was unaware you were also here. You must be Mr. Cassian and Mr. Damien Canborne?”

  Cassian didn’t so much as nod. He stood like a statue carved from marble and entitlement, but his eyes were not on Genevieve, not on the room, not on anything polite. They were fixed on the small birthmark just above my heart, as if it were a secret map he’d been permitted to read. I felt my skin heat under the weight of that stare. Why did he seem so interested in it? God, do the sons of rich families come with a built?in entitlement to ogle? The thought made me bristle. His younger brother, Damien, was a different story. Softer features, kinder eyes, everything about him suggested warmth rather than calcution. I knew, without thinking, which of the two I preferred. Sharp cheekbones and a hard jawline might look good in portraits, but give me a man whose face invites conversation instead of conquest. Damien finally dragged his gaze away from me, but the expression that repced Cassian’s leer was something else entirely: confusion, edged with a kind of pained recognition.

  What? Does he not know what a woman looks like?

  Cassian’s hands went to his throat almost unconsciously, as if he were trying to steady himself. He looked up at me, and the confusion in his face deepened into something fragile. “Do I…know you from somewhere?” His voice was small, uncertain, an odd contrast to the way he’d been staring a moment before.

  Damien gnced between us, then stepped in with the easy diplomacy of someone used to smoothing awkwardness. “You may have seen her on the news, brother. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Rothbride in person.” He offered me a quick, practiced smile.

  His smile nded differently than Cassian’s had. It felt familiar in a way that tugged at the edges of memory, like a melody you half?remember from childhood. I couldn’t help the reflexive smile that tugged at my lips in return. It was small, involuntary, but honest. For a second, I let myself think maybe the evening wouldn’t be unbearable. Cassian didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press it. He folded his arms and turned his attention elsewhere, which was a mercy. The room slid into an awkward silence that felt thick enough to touch. Conversation stalled like a car with a dead battery; ughter died in throats; the clink of cutlery seemed suddenly loud. Genevieve, bless her, was the first to break the tension. She excused herself with a flurry of apologies and a dramatic, “I’ll be right back,” that sounded suspiciously like a strategic retreat. I shot her a gre that said everything, don’t leave me here, and she only rolled her eyes as she swept away. Typical little?sister theatrics, and I hated her for it and loved her for it in the same breath.

  Cassian followed soon after, muttering something about a call he had to take. Good riddance. That left Damien and me alone in the dim glow of the cabin’s mps, the air between us suddenly charged in a way that had nothing to do with the fire outside. He shifted his weight, hands tucked casually into his pockets, and for a moment we simply looked at each other. The silence now felt less hostile and more like a held breath, waiting to see who would speak first.

  “Your dress is quite lovely, Ms. Rothbride.” He let himself lean on one elbow on the bar counter. He looked at me with a bright smile on his face. How cute.

  “Well, thank you. My sister picked it out for me and once again, call me Esme.”

  “Of course, and I also encourage you to call me Damien. I hate all these formalities. I’m fairly certain I only know most of these people by their st names.” His hand lightly touches his ear.

  “You can say that again. Even in private conversations, I always refer to them as Mr. or Ms.”

  “Well, what can we do? The price we have to pay, I suppose.”

  As I continued to talk with Damien, I felt a strange but comforting sense of familiarity. It was as if we had known each other for years. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it. We connected on so many things, and we had so much more in common than I thought. We even share the same favorite flower. I wonder what it was about Damien that made me feel this way. With Damien, everything felt lighter and more genuine, as though we were old friends who had just picked up where we left off.