CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning sun came in through the curtains, casting warm

streaks of gold across the room. The city below stirred to life, its familiar

hum reaching faintly through the windows. But inside Savannah's penthouse, the

world felt distant, quiet, like nothing existed beyond the tangle of

sheets and limbs on her bed.

Cassian stirred, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His skin was warm, his breath soft against

her neck. For a moment, they just lay there, bodies molded together, listening

to the sound of each other's breathing.

"Morning," came his voice, low and rough with sleep. There was something about the way he said it that made Savannah's heart ache in the

best way.

She smiled, eyes still closed. "Morning."

Cassian's fingers traced lazy patterns along her hip.

"You're dangerous, you know that?"

Savannah laughed softly, turning in his arms so they were face to face. "I think you've got that backwards, Mr. Virelli. You're the

dangerous one."

His dark eyes gleamed as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Maybe we're both fucked, then."

They lay there a little longer, the city forgotten, caught in the softness of dawn, sharing quiet kisses. His lips found the hollow

beneath her ear, and she shivered.

"You're making it really hard for me to leave this bed," he murmured.

"Who said I want you to?" Savannah teased, dragging her nails lightly down his back.

He groaned, burying his face against her shoulder. "Don't tempt me."

"Pretty sure it's mutual at this point," she said, nuzzling his hair.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came when two people had crossed lines they couldn't uncross. Savannah's

fingers drifted over his shoulder, over that dark, strange tattoo that still

stirred questions she wasn't ready to voice again.

Instead, she focused on the warmth of him, the way his hand spread wide on her lower back.

Cassian tilted his head back, smirking. "What time is it?"

Savannah blinked at the clock on her nightstand. And then they both groaned.

"Shit," she laughed. "We forgot we have work today."

Cassian chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And here I thought we could hide out in here forever."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm pretty sure both our empires would crumble without us," Savannah said, reluctantly untangling

herself from him and sitting up.

Cassian propped himself on one elbow, watching her as she gathered the scattered pieces of last night's clothes. "Before I go… dinner.

Tonight. Let's get out of the city , hotel, room service, no interruptions.

Just us."

Savannah froze for half a heartbeat, then turned, smiling. "You serious?"

"Dead serious," he said, pulling on his shirt. "I want a night where it's just you and me. No work, no calls, Just us."

Her heart stuttered in that dangerous way again. "Okay. You've got yourself a deal."

He kissed her, slow and deep, And then, reluctantly, they parted, each headed into the chaos of the day.

At Red Muse, the day hit Savannah like a storm.

Her phone buzzed nonstop, calls from suppliers, messages from investors,

back-and-forths with her PR team about a potential brand collaboration that

could either be genius or a PR disaster

She powered through meetings, her mind half on the spreadsheets, half on Cassian's mouth, his hands, the promise of the night

ahead.

"Savannah?" Gina's voice cut through her haze as she tapped lightly on the office door. "The new fabric samples arrived. And the Q2 number,

you're going to want to see this."

Savannah exhaled, refocusing. "Bring them in. Let's see what we're working with."

The samples were stunning, rich jewel tones, innovative textures and the numbers? Even better. Red Muse was soaring higher than

projected.

"You're amazing Gina," Savannah said, genuinely impressed.

Gina grinned. "I'll take that compliment and add it to my résumé."

They shared a laugh before diving into strategies for the upcoming fashion week showcase.

Across town, Vyreon Corp, Cassian wasn't faring much better.

His meetings were brutal, software delays, one of the club managers reporting staff issues, a potential investor growing skittish over a

competitor's new tech.

He handled it all with the ruthless efficiency that made him feared in the boardroom, but beneath it, his mind kept drifting. To Savannah's

laugh. The way she'd felt in his arms that morning. The softness of her skin

beneath his hands.

By late afternoon, his phone buzzed.

>Savannah: Just try not to get kidnapped by your work before tonight.

He smirked, thumbs flying over the keys.

>Cassian: No promises. But I'll fight my way out if I have to.

>Savannah: Good. Because I'm looking forward to you keeping that promise.

That was all it took for him to end his last call early.

Tonight, the rest of the world could wait.

The restaurant was pure elegance.

A rooftop spot overlooking the city, soft jazz playing, the glow of candlelight reflecting in Savannah's eyes.

Cassian had been waiting when she arrived, and his breath caught at the sight of her, midnight-blue dress, slit high enough to be

dangerous, hair loose in waves, that confident, knowing smile that drove him

insane.

"Wow," he said, standing, pulling out her chair. "You're trying to kill me."

Savannah smirked, settling across from him. "Maybe."

Dinner was a slow seduction , plates of delicate dishes they barely touched, glasses of wine that went half-finished, their focus entirely

on each other. They talked about everything, dreams they'd barely dared to say

aloud. Every glance, every brush of fingers across the table, crackled with

tension.

"You're trouble, Savannah Cross," Cassian murmured, leaning in as dessert arrived , a rich chocolate torte neither of them would remember.

"And you love it," she shot back, eyes gleaming.

"God help me, I do," he admitted.

The hotel was everything he promised.

A suite high above the city, all luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A king bed that seemed made for sin.

The door had barely clicked shut before Cassian had her against it, mouth claiming hers like he'd been starving all day.

His hands roamed over her dress, finding the zipper, tugging it down in one fluid motion. Savannah gasped as the fabric pooled at her feet, standing in nothing but black lace.

"You're perfect," he breathed, voice rough with need.

She reached for him, pulling his shirt free, fingers desperate on the buttons. When his chest was bare, she froze, there it was again. That dark tattoo on his

shoulder, stark against his skin, haunting in its unfamiliarity.

Her fingers hovered, but Cassian cupped her face, drawing her back to his mouth. "Later," he whispered against her lips. "Tonight's

ours."

And Savannah, lost in him, let the questions slip away.

They crossed every line together that night, the city their witness beyond the glass, the rest of the world forgotten.