Tempting my Billionaire

Old Wounds Recalled

★Nathan★

By the time Friday came around, I was running on caffeine and irritation. The project had already taken over every spare minute of my week, and Cassandra’s ability to get under my skin was starting to feel like a full-time job on its own. It wasn’t that she was rude. She was polite. Professional. Civil, even. But everything she said came wrapped in that same careful tone: controlled, deliberate, and measured. She gave nothing away. I had worked with difficult people before, but Cassandra Lionel was not difficult. She was distant. Detached. And that was worse. By the end of the day, I needed a drink, so I texted Timothy.

✉Nathan: Meet you at the bar?

His response was immediate.

✉Timothy: Already two drinks ahead of you.

I smirked at the screen and grabbed my jacket. The drive to the Dockhouse Bar took less than fifteen minutes. We had stumbled upon the bar one night while bar crawling, and it had quickly become our usual spot. It was quiet enough for conversation, but never empty. Soft jazz played in the background, and the low light gave it a warm, familiar feeling. It wasn’t overly priced, and the service was always top-notch. But it was the vibe that had drawn us in, and I always enjoyed it. When I walked in, the bartender nodded when he saw me and poured my usual before I sat down next to Timothy at the bar. My best friend was half-slouched in his seat with a drink in hand. He looked tired and run-down.

“Rough day?” I asked as the bartender slid my drink in front of me. Timothy glanced at me and sighed softly.

“Rough week,” he said. “Sienna is out of the picture again,” I raised an eyebrow. When did this happen?

“For good this time?” I asked curiously.

“She said so, but I’m not betting on it,” he said. I didn’t say anything as I took a slow sip of my drink. “I love her and every time she does this…it breaks my heart,”

“What are you going to do?” I asked. I knew Timothy. And unfortunately, I also knew Sienna. She loved him, but she was high maintenance. And while I felt like they suited each other, I didn’t like the fact that every time she got upset, she broke his heart.

“Honestly…I was thinking about proposing…maybe then she won’t keep running away,” he said, and I stared at him in surprise.

“Are you sure marriage is the answer?”

“No. It’s not. But it’s a commitment. I mean…she can’t just get a divorce every time, right?”

“I guess…but maybe you should sit her down and talk to her about how this all makes you feel,” I suggested. Timothy glanced at me, but then he looked away. I had a feeling he had already talked to her.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he said instead, and I nodded. I knew him well enough to know when not to push.

“I have been busy,” I said. “As you well know, this project between our companies,” he nodded. While Timothy wasn’t directly involved, he knew all about it. After all, he was the head of the financial department. So, he knew all the ins and outs. This project included.

“Cassandra is a machine, huh?” he remarked, and I hid my smile as I took another sip of my drink.

“She has been…” I hesitated as I tried to think of the appropriate word to define it in a way that won’t offend him. “Challenging,” I finished. Timothy chuckled.

“Yeah, that sounds like Cassy,”

“She is impossible to read,” I said. “Half the time, she looks like she would rather be anywhere else. The other half, she just ignores me altogether. I am trying to figure out what her problem is,” Timothy smirked.

“Maybe you intimidate her,” he said, and I scoffed.

“Oh, please,” I shot back.

“Or maybe,” he said as he leaned forward. “She is just holding a grudge,” I frowned as I looked over at him curiously.

“A grudge? For what?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“I mean, come on, man. You remember how she used to follow us around like a shadow when we were kids. You have to remember how obsessed she was with you,”

“Obsessed?” I repeated, surprised.

“Seriously? You don’t remember that? She used to look at you with stars in her eyes…or hearts…she had the biggest crush on you, man. She was like…what, eleven? Twelve? And we were seventeen…eighteen, and f**k, man, she was so annoying. Following us around, and I always used to tell her to go back to her dolls,”

“That isn’t how I remember it,” I said, and he smiled.

“That is exactly how it was,” he said. “She was always hanging around when we were at the house. You and I would be watching movies, and she would come barging in, asking if she could join us. Remember that night we rented Beneath Still Water?” the memory flickered, faint but clear enough to pull me back. I could see it, the entertainment system that had been set up in the den.

Timothy and I watched the screen, sprawled out on the couch with snacks scattered everywhere as we pretended not to care about the jump scares on screen. Cassandra appeared at the doorway dressed in one of those oversized sweatshirts. Her hair was a mess, and her expression serious.

“Can I watch too?” she asked.

“You will have nightmares,” Timothy said immediately as he paused the movie.

“I will not,” she replied. “I am not a baby,” I glanced at her, amused.

“You might not be a baby, but this movie is rated sixteen,” I pointed out. Cassandra lifted her chin defiantly.

“The answer is no, Cassy,” Timothy said as he got to his feet. “Mom and Dad will kill me if I let you watch this,” I watched as he pushed passed her. “Just going to grab a few more sodas,” he called to me over his shoulder. Cassandra lingered in the doorway.

“Nathan,” she whispered.

“What?” I asked as I took my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through Connectra, a social media app.

“Will you wait for me?” Cassandra asked, and I frowned as I tore my gaze away from the small screen to look at her.

“Wait for you?”

“Until I grow up,” she said. I stared at her and then I laughed.

“Sure, Cassy. Whatever you say,” I said before I turned my attention back to my phone.

And as the memory faded, I shook my head.

“f*****g hell,” I muttered under my breath.

“Ah, so you do remember?”

“Barely,” I admitted. The truth was that Cassandra had been (and always would be) my best friend’s little sister.

“She liked you,” he said. “For years. You were her first crush. She used to write your name in her notebooks,”

“That is ridiculous,” I said, but the memory of her words echoed in my mind.

“She did,” Timothy insisted. “My mother found one of her notebooks once and nearly lost her mind. Cassandra nearly died of embarrassment,” I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine that was the reason she acted so coldly toward me. There was no way it was tied to some long-forgotten childhood crush. It was absurd. But as the memory played itself over and over, other memories of similar situations came to mind.

“Well, regardless, I am sure she got over it,”

“Probably,” Timothy said before he signaled the bartender for a refill. He changed the topic to work, and I nodded as I pushed the memories aside. I would think about it later when I got home.

★★★