Page 34 of A Sinful Gravity

He chuckled and left, door clicking shut.

I swiveled to the window. Washington's evening sky darkened, streetlights flickering on one by one.

It reminded me of another dusk. Luna on the balcony, coffee in hand, back to me, gazing out. Sunset lit her profile, gilding her blonde hair in a hazy glow.

She didn't know I was watching. I stood in the study doorway a moment, didn't approach, just turned back inside.

What if I'd gone to her? Stood beside her, said nothing, just been there? Would things have turned out different?

No what-ifs.

I shoved the thoughts down, headed to the lounge. I could grab a couple hours' sleep before heading out.

After the nap, my head cleared. I changed and met up with Marco to go.

The car pulled up at the restaurant. We got out.

It had massive floor-to-ceiling windows—one side facing Washington's night skyline, the other overlooking a stunning sea view. Inside, lights dimmed low, hidden speakers pumped fast beats, pulling everyone into motion, drawing them close in the buzz.

"This is it," Marco shot me a look. "Let's go in and celebrate!"

I smirked and followed him through the main door.

The second we stepped in, music and lights hit like a wave. I let myself unwind in the vibe.

Staff ditched their usual stiffness and came up to toast. Partner execs dropped the serious act, laughed, and chatted freely.

Yeah, I was a young gun in business, company on the rise. We raised glasses, faces lit with grins.

Stick to the path, and we'd dominate Washington in time—that thought fired everyone up.

I should have been thrilled, but something felt off. The career win gave a quick hit of satisfaction, but now, watching the frenzy, the clinking glasses, I felt like an outsider.

I rubbed my temple, backed toward the wall, trying to regroup.

"Hey, Cassian." A voice cut in from the side.

I turned. A woman had slid up next to me, dressed in red, makeup perfect, smile just right.

"I'm Megan Taylor, Marco's friend, heir to Taylor Group." She lifted her glass. "Heard a lot about you from him. Impressive."

"Thanks." I clinked with her.

"You here alone?" She leaned closer, her perfume hitting strong, almost choking.

I wanted to pull back, but space was tight.

"Yeah."

"Me too," she smiled. "What a coincidence."

I'd seen this play a hundred times. Six years ago, I'd shrug it off—not go further, but not shut down someone useful. Now, though—

"Excuse me," I sidestepped.

Her smile froze, then recovered. "Sure, have fun."

I wove through the crowd to the balcony. Door shut, and the laughs and music faded.