Page 47 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

He froze.

Pain flashed across his face. He took a step toward me, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. “I—I was following you. I was trying to stop you, trying to get you to pull over, but I…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I failed. I’m so sorry, Alessia—”

My brows pulled together, and I cut him off before he could sink any deeper into the apology. “Not that part.” I finally looked at him, my gaze hardening. “Where were you before that? Where were you when I was sitting alone at a party I’d spent a month planning just for you?”

His eyes widened, hope flashing across his face. His hand lifted toward me, fingers reaching before I stepped out of his reach. “Do you remember—”

“No.” The word sliced through his question. I turned back to the coffee maker, keeping my attention on the machine instead of him. “I know because Naija told me. Now answer my fucking question, Sterling.”

Silence filled the space between us.

I looked back at him. His face had gone pale. Dark shadows sat beneath his hollow eyes, and guilt seemed to weigh down every line of his face. His lips parted, but nothing came out. He tried again, only to stumble over the words. “I— It was…” His voice faltered. “I—”

I paused, tilting my head as I studied him. “Are you having a stroke?”

A startled, choked laugh escaped him. “What? No.” He shook his head once, dragging himself back into the conversation. “We were celebrating landing the Aethelstan deal. It ran late, and then the team realized it was my birthday. I…” His fingers dragged through his hair, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to mine. “I completely forgot about your party.”

The apology tumbled out of him. “I’m so sorry, Alessia. I regret it more than I can put into words. I swear I’ll never make that mistake again.” His eyes searched my face, pleading for even the smallest sign that I might forgive him.

I narrowed my eyes and poured my coffee over the glass. “A work thing. So you chose your team over me. Got it.”

“No. No, that’s not what happened.” He moved closer, shaking his head quickly. “They kept insisting I stay. They’d been through so much with me, and they deserved to celebrate—”

“And I wasn’t?” I asked, the clink of the ice cubes punctuating the question.

He stopped dead. “What?”

I lifted my gaze to his, the irritation I’d been carrying sharpening into a pointed question. “And I wasn’t there when you were struggling?”

The question knocked the air out of him. He stood there without a defense, every excuse he’d been reaching for disappearing one by one, until the weight of what he’d done finally settled over him.

“You were,” he finally whispered, his head bowing beneath the weight of the realization. “You were with me. You never left my side.” His eyes lifted to mine, remorse written all over his face. “Alessia, I’m so—”

“You know,” I cut in, lifting the glass in my hand, “that makes this so much better.”

Before he could process the sudden shift in my tone, I poured the entire glass of coffee over his head.

Cassian jerked backward with a strangled gasp as the icy coffee soaked through his hair and ran down his face. He stared at his ruined button-up shirt in stunned disbelief while dark liquid dripped from his eyelashes, slid down his neck, and disappeared into the fine fabric.

Huh.

That was… very anticlimactic.

I’d spent more time making the coffee than he spent wearing it. He could take the shirt off, toss it in the laundry, and—boom—evidence gone.

I needed to do better research next time.

Cassian slowly lifted his head, blinking coffee from his lashes as he fixed me with a long, unreadable stare. “Feel better?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

I clicked my tongue, staring at the mess I’d made with genuine disappointment. “Not really.” My gaze dropped to the coffee still pooling around his shoes. “Maybe I should’ve used hot coffee.”

He shook his head, sending droplets flying across the room. A few landed on my sleeve. “Alessia, can we—”

I silenced him with a single look. “Oh, I’m done with you.” I turned away and headed toward the hallway, my mind already running through revenge methods that couldn’t be undone with a simple shirt change.

I made it barely three steps.

Cassian moved in front of me, blocking my path. “We are going to have a complete conversation,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t get to leave just because you’re done.” He paused, his gaze holding mine as a flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes.