Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 376

A sudden noise shattered the suffocating silence in the office.

Cassian swallowed down the surge of anger rising in his throat.

He lifted his eyes to the door, which rattled again under persistent knocking. His gaze still burned red with barely restrained fury.

“Bennett.”

Rubbing his brow, Cassian called Bennett over to answer the door.

While Bennett’s back was turned, Cassian quietly opened a drawer and retrieved a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, slipping them on with practiced ease.

The sharp, menacing air around him softened, replaced instead by an aloof detachment that seemed almost inhuman.

As Helen entered, the first thing she saw was Cassian’s shadowed figure behind the desk.

Only a single lamp glowed, casting a dim yellow halo, the gold rims of his glasses catching the light now and then.

The atmosphere was oppressive, heavy enough to make Helen’s heart leap into her throat.

She stopped in front of Cassian, feeling a chill radiate from him.

“Mr. Veyne, you had Bennett fetch me—what did you need?”

Her words came out stiffly, forced by necessity.

Cassian’s cold eyes flicked over her, and he nodded slowly. “At the club, you hid something about your past.”

He looked up, locking eyes with her.

Those deep, ink-dark eyes seemed to pull her in, as if she might drown in them.

He was breathtakingly handsome, but Helen felt only a crushing pressure, as if a mountain were looming over her.

As Cassian spoke, Helen’s hands clenched tighter, a cold sweat breaking out along her spine.

She’d already guessed on her way here what this was about—there could be no other reason.

But—

Helen bit her lip, torn and miserable.

“Whether it was threats, or some bargain you struck—tell me everything. If you were threatened, I’ll make sure you and your family are safe. If it was a deal, you know who I am, so you know I can offer more than anyone else.”

Cassian tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk.

The deep quiet of the night made each tap echo, weighing heavier and heavier on Helen’s heart.

At some point, rain began to fall outside, its steady drumming merging with Cassian’s tapping.

The office was so silent, you could hear a pin drop.

Helen’s palms were scored red from her own fingernails.

Cassian’s gaze stayed fixed on her, seeing her struggle.

But he knew one thing: Helen was the key to unraveling the truth.

His brow smoothed, his face an impassive mask—handsome, stern, and imposing, like a statue of some inscrutable god.

Helen’s heart pounded wildly.

“Helen,” Cassian said, his voice cold and low, “you know what it means to cross me in Quinborough, don’t you?”

His fingers curled, the chill in his eyes sharp as steel.

Few wielded power like he did—his entire life was steeped in a coldness that could freeze someone to the bone.

Helen’s legs went weak, a whole patch of cold sweat soaking her back.

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