Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 358

The spoiled rich kid who’d been kicked to the floor scrambled up, only to be grabbed by a few more people who’d rushed in. They yanked him up and tossed him out the door without ceremony.

He’d only recently struck it rich by chance—his family had pushed him to network more, to get close to people like this. He’d taken it as a free pass to throw his weight around. Clearly, tonight, he’d miscalculated.

The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud. The waitress, still shaken, was gently led to a corner to compose herself by a few sympathetic guests.

Even as she moved aside, she kept darting furtive, nervous glances at Cassian, as if hoping not to be noticed but unable to help herself.

No one at the table was surprised by her reaction. If it weren’t for Cassian’s influence and the unapproachable air he carried, women like her would have been swarming him long ago.

“Cassian, are you in a bad mood?” someone finally asked, their tone more careful than before.

These guys had all grown up together, sons of old money and privilege. Cassian was different. Even as a teenager, he’d had that steady, intimidating presence of someone born to succeed. Nobody could remember ever seeing him laugh.

He rarely joined their gatherings, and even when he did, he usually buried himself in work, answering emails or reviewing documents in the corner. But tonight, he seemed… off. Restless.

“I’m fine,” Cassian said, rubbing his temple. The liquor was starting to blur his vision.

That seemed to close the discussion, but then Cassian spoke again, abruptly: “Ruby moved out of Northridge.”

The group fell silent.

The guy next to him scratched his head. “So what? She moved out. Weren’t you the one who couldn’t stand her living there?”

Cassian frowned, shooting back almost before he realized it: “I never said that.”

The words hung in the air, the conversation grinding to a halt. Everyone stared at him.

Cassian’s face shifted as he realized what he’d just admitted. His grip on his glass tightened, his pulse stuttering.

“You—”

“Forget it. You guys carry on.” Cassian massaged his brow again and got up, moving to a small sofa in the darkest corner of the lounge. His broad shoulders disappeared into the shadows, the glass in his hand catching the light now and then.

After that little episode, the mood of the party changed. The lively chatter faded, everyone suddenly more subdued.

Yet from the corner, that pair of anxious eyes kept sneaking glances at Cassian.

As the evening wound down, people gathered their things, ready to leave. Cassian stood to leave too.

At last, the shadow in the corner moved—a slim, nervous figure stepping up to Cassian’s side.

“Mr. Veyne…” The waitress’s voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with nerves.

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