Chapter 3 False Love

The property viewing was a disaster wrapped in professional courtesy. Cassie couldn't focus on square footage or natural lighting when every breath still carried traces of Greyson's cologne, when her palm still tingled from where he'd touched her.

The first venue a converted warehouse in the arts district should have been perfect for her vision of industrial romance. Instead, she found herself staring at exposed brick walls and wondering what they'd feel like against her back.

"The space seats three hundred comfortably,"

Greyson was saying, his voice perfectly modulated, businessman incarnate.

"Catering kitchen is fully equipped, and there's a private bridal suite on the mezzanine level."

Cassie nodded mechanically, scribbling notes she'd never read again. The engagement ring felt foreign on her finger, too tight, too heavy. She caught herself twisting it compulsively and forced her hands to stillness.

"What's your timeline?"

Greyson asked, pulling out his tablet to check availability.

"June fifteenth." The date felt like a stone in her throat. "Three months."

His fingers paused over the screen.

"Short notice for a venue this size. Most couples book eighteen months out."

"We're not most couples."

The words came out sharper than intended. "Jake is my fiancé he's been offered a position in London. We need to be married before the visa paperwork goes through."

It was the story they'd agreed on, the one that sounded romantic and spontaneous rather than desperate and convenient. The truth was messier: Jake 's family pushing for a Christmas wedding, her father's business merger requiring certain social appearances, the careful choreography of two prominent families joining forces.

"London's a big move," Greyson said carefully.

"You must be excited."

Cassie's laugh was brittle.

"Thrilled. I've always wanted to abandon my career to play the corporate wife in a country where it rains three hundred days a year."

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Greyson's expression shifted, professional mask slipping just enough to reveal something that looked like concern.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly.

"That was inappropriate. I'm just—today's been long."

"The elevator," he said quietly. "That couldn't have helped."

Their eyes met, and suddenly they were back in that small, dark space, her hands on his shoulders, his vulnerability laid bare. The air between them crackled with unfinished business.

Cassie's phone buzzed, shattering the moment. Jake 's name lit up the screen.

"I should take this," she said, stepping away.

"Jake ? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, darling. Just confirming tonightnTony's at eight?"

She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. The property viewings had run over, and she still needed to get home, shower, change into something that didn't smell like fear and expensive cologne.

"Actually, I'm running behind. Can we push it to eight-thirty?"

A pause. "Cassie, we've had this reservation for two weeks. The Smith's are expecting us."

The Smith's. Jake 's business partners, the ones whose approval apparently mattered more than her day from hell. She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar weight of expectation settle on her shoulders like a lead blanket.

"Of course. I'll be there."

She hung up and turned back to Greyson, who was pretending to study his tablet while obviously listening to every word.

"Duty calls,"

she said, attempting lightness.

"The other two properties."

"Can wait. I need to get home."

They walked to the parking garage in silence, their footsteps echoing off concrete walls. Cassie's Panamera sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights, a reminder of the life she'd built for herself successful, independent, controlled.

"I'll send you the information packets,"

Greyson said, stopping beside her car. "Property specs, pricing, availability."

"Thank you."

She fumbled for her keys, desperate to escape before she did something stupid. Like ask him to have a drink. Like admit that she hadn't stopped thinking about the way he'd looked at her in the elevator, stripped of all pretense.

"Cassie." Her name on his lips was a prayer and a curse.

"If you need anything"

"I won't." The words were armor, protection against the want that threatened to consume her good judgment. " Thank you."

She slid into the driver's seat, leather cool against her heated skin. Through the windshield, she watched Greyson walk toward his own cara sleek BMW that suited him perfectly. Powerful, expensive, built for speed.

Her phone buzzed with a text from her best friend

Jenna: How'd the venue hunting go? Please tell me you found somewhere that doesn't look like a country club threw up.

Cassie stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could she explain that she'd spent the afternoon getting trapped in an elevator with the most dangerous man she'd ever met? That her engagement ring had ended up in his palm, and for one insane moment, she'd wanted to leave it there?

Promising leads, she typed back.

Details later.

The drive home passed in a blur of traffic and regret. Her penthouse apartment welcomed her with its familiar silence floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, minimalist furniture that belonged in a magazine spread, not a single trace of the chaos churning in her chest.

She poured herself a glass of wine and stood at the window, watching the city lights twinkle below. Somewhere out there, Greyson was probably having a normal evening. Dinner with friends, maybe a date with some perfectly suitable woman who didn't wear another man's ring.

Her phone rang. Jake .

"Running late," she answered. "Just got home."

"Cassie, what's wrong? You sound... off."

She closed her eyes. Jake knew her well enough to read the tension in her voice, but not well enough to understand its source.

"Just tired. Long day."

"The venue appointments went well?"

"Fine. We'll talk about it at dinner."

Another pause. "The Smith's are bringing their daughter. The one who works in fashion PR? I thought you might enjoy meeting her."

Of course. Even their dinner conversations were being managed, orchestrated to advance Jake 's business interests. She wondered if he'd ever asked her what she wanted to talk about, what she needed from him.

"Sounds lovely," she lied.

"Cassie."

"I need to get ready. I'll see you at eight-thirty."

She hung up before he could respond, then immediately felt guilty. Jake was a good man. Kind, successful, devoted to his family. He'd never given her reason to doubt his feelings for her, never made her question their compatibility.

So why did she feel like she was suffocating?

The hot shower helped, washing away the day's stress and the lingering scent of Greyson's cologne. She dressed carefully—black silk dress, pearls, heels that made her legs look endless. The uniform of a successful woman who had her life together.

Her reflection in the mirror looked perfect. Polished, professional, ready to charm business partners and discuss wedding plans with enthusiasm she didn't feel.

Her eyes told a different story. They held shadows, secrets, the memory of storm-gray blue eyes and capable hands.

She grabbed her clutch and headed for the door, Jake 's ring catching the light as she reached for the handle. Three months until the wedding. Twelve weeks to figure out how to want the life she'd chosen.

The elevator in her building was smooth, silent, nothing like the ancient contraption at GC Holdings. But as the doors closed, she found herself thinking about panic attacks and shared water bottles, about the way Greyson's breathing had synced with hers in the darkness.

Stop it, she commanded herself. You're engaged. You're happy. You're exactly where you're supposed to be.

The elevator opened to the parking garage, and she walked toward her car with determined steps. Tonight, she would be the perfect fiancée. She would charm the Hendersons, discuss wedding venues with Jake , and forget all about the way her world had shifted in the space between elevator floors.

As she drove her Jeep toward Tony's, her phone sitting silent in the passenger seat, she couldn't shake t

he feeling that she was driving away from something important. Something that might have changed everything, if she'd been brave enough to let it.