Dinner with Cassian Hayes was as routine as breathing. I could probably order his meal without looking at the menu. We had done this a thousand times before—after long meetings, before early site visits, whenever one of us needed a moment to decompress from the madness that was Evermark Developments.
We sat in our usual booth at Delphino's, an upscale but comfortable spot where the waiters knew us by name. Cassian scrolled through his phone while I sipped my wine, both of us enjoying the familiar silence between us. Neither of us were the type to fill space with unnecessary words.
"So, how's your girlfriend?" I asked dryly, twirling the stem of my glass.
Cassian looked up, eyebrow quirked. "Which one?"
I scoffed. "Disgusting."
He smirked. "I don't have a girlfriend, Sienna. You know that."
"Right, you just have… temporary companions."
"Sounds poetic when you say it like that."
I rolled my eyes, but I wasn't exactly one to judge. Neither of us had time for relationships. We were either buried in work, putting out fires, or, in my case, making sure Cassian didn't self-destruct. Romance wasn't in our blood.
His phone rang, cutting through the conversation. He barely glanced at the screen before sighing and handing it to me.
I blinked. "What?"
"It's my mom. She knows you're here."
Of course, she did. This wasn't the first time I'd been roped into a Wells family interrogation. Cassian's mother adored me—too much, if we were being honest.
I sighed and took the phone. "Hi, Mrs. Hayes."
"Sienna, sweetheart!" came the warm voice from the other end. "How are you? Still keeping my son from ruining his life?"
Cassian shot me a look as he cut into his steak. I smirked.
"Trying my best," I said sweetly.
"Well, someone has to. Honestly, I don't know what he'd do without you. Which brings me to the real question—when are you two finally tying the knot?"
I choked on my wine.
Cassian had the audacity to laugh.
I wiped my mouth, composing myself. "Mrs. Wells, you know Cassian and I aren't—"
"Oh, hush," she interrupted. "You two are perfect together. Always working, always having dinner. It's basically a marriage already!"
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
Because, objectively, I had thought about it before.
I'd known Cassian since university. He was brilliant, infuriating, loyal, and the absolute worst person I could imagine being married to.
It wasn't that I didn't love him in some way—I did, in that I-keep-you-from-dying-but-would-also-bury-your-body-in-the-desert kind of way. But actual marriage? Living with him? No, thank you.
Cassian took his phone back, finally putting me out of my misery. "Mom, I told you, I'm waiting on her."
I shot him a glare so intense it could've shattered glass.
Mrs. Hayes sighed dramatically. "Hopeless, the both of you. Fine, I'll let you go. But think about it, Sienna. I'd love to call you my daughter-in-law."
With that, she hung up.
I exhaled and leaned back in my seat. "I hate you."
Cassian, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his fork. "She's got a point. You're basically my work wife."
I threw a breadstick at him.
Romance wasn't in our blood. We had built our lives around work, ambition, and late-night dinners where love was the furthest thing from the table.
And yet, a tiny, traitorous part of me wondered why the idea of marrying Cassian didn't make me want to throw up.
Cassian Hayes had the world's most undeserved confidence. If arrogance could be bottled and sold, he would be a billionaire twice over.
"So, you're saying if I let myself go, I'll be out of the calendar?" I deadpanned, staring at him over the rim of my wine glass.
Cassian, sitting across from me, smirked like a man who had never suffered a consequence in his life. "Not immediately. You've got a good couple of years left. Maybe three, if you maintain your skincare routine."
I picked up another breadstick and contemplated stabbing him with it.
"You do realize we're both 30, right?" I pointed out. "You're in the same damn calendar as me."
"Ah, but men age like fine wine," he said, leaning back, all smug and self-assured. "We get better with time."
"Oh, shut up. You're a contractor, not an actor from a whiskey ad."
Cassian chuckled, swirling the last of his drink. His charm was effortless, unintentional even—the kind that got him into trouble and somehow always got him back out of it. It was infuriating.
"You know," he mused, tapping his fingers against the table, "if you ever decide you want kids and need a sperm donor, I'd consider it. I mean, strong genes, good hair, top-tier charisma—"
I gagged so dramatically I nearly fell out of my seat. "Stop. Stop talking."
"What?" He grinned. "I'd make an excellent genetic contribution."
"I cannot—" I held up a hand, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cassian, you are not donating anything to me."
"Not even a little?"
"Not even a whiff of genetic material."
He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "Shame. We'd make an incredible child. Probably an evil mastermind with an empire by the age of five."
I grabbed a napkin and threw it directly at his face.
He caught it effortlessly, still smirking. "You're no fun."
"You think way too highly of yourself."
"And yet, somehow, you still choose to have dinner with me."
That shut me up for a second. Because, damn it, he was right.
For all his nonsense, all his ego, all his ridiculous flirting that he didn't even mean half the time, Cassian was still the one person I actually enjoyed spending time with.
But that didn't mean I'd ever, in a million years, entertain the thought of him as a father.
"Cass, I would rather let my eggs shrivel into dust than procreate with you."
Cassian grinned, raising his glass. "That's fair. But if you change your mind—"
I threw another breadstick at him.