Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

The lavish dinner commenced beneath the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, silverware chiming gently as attendants moved with practiced grace.

To Mirriam’s mounting annoyance, Cassie had been seated squarely between Ashton Pierce and Zandrie Wallace, while she herself was placed across the table–close enough to see everything, far enough to feel deliberately excluded.

“Try this, babe,” Zandrie said casually, spearing a slice of perfectly seared meat and lifting it toward Cassie’s lips.

The simple gesture drew instant attention–sharp, unhidden. Rima irritated. Mirriam’s fingers curled tightly around her fork. But it was Ashton’s reaction that cut the deepest, his jaw hardened, eyes flicking to the two of them with unmistakable tension.

Cassie leaned in without hesitation.

“Hmmm… delicious,” she murmured, her eyes widening in genuine delight as she savored the bite, chewing slowly, almost theatrically.

Zandrie chuckled, clearly pleased. He turned to Ashton, a taunting smile playing on his lips.

“I must commend the food here, CEO Pierce. My wife loves every dish. You should consider giving your staff a bonus.”

The word wife landed like a deliberate strike.

Ashton’s grip on his wineglass tightened, though his expression remained carefully controlled.

While Zandrie busied himself provoking Ashton, Cassie tilted her head slightly–just enough for Mirriam to catch the smug curve of her lips. Cassie’s eyes sparkled with triumph, silently daring her. Mirriam looked moments away from hurling the plate in front of her across the table.

“Here, have more,” Zandrie said again, already offering another bite.

Cassie accepted gladly. This part, at least, was no act. The food truly was exceptional. Pierce Hotel had more than lived up to its reputation as the finest establishment in the city.

“Really delicious,” Cassie gushed, almost childlike in her enthusiasm.

Then, suddenly, her gaze shifted–settling on Mirriam’s untouched plate.

Cassie’s expression softened instantly, concern replacing delight.

“Are you not enjoying the food, sister?” she asked gently. “Is it not to your taste?”

Feigning worry, Cassie turned slightly toward Ashton, as if seeking his opinion.

Mirriam stiffened.

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“Oh–no, no. I… ah… it’s all delicious,” Mirriam replied quickly, panic flickering in her eyes as Ashton turned to look at her, his gaze sharp and assessing.

Cassie blinked, brows knitting together in innocent confusion.

“But you haven’t touched anything on your plate,” she said softly. “How do you know it’s delicious?”

The table fell into an uneasy silence.

Mirriam’s eyes flashed with restrained fury as she shot Cassie a discreet glare. She knew it too well- Cassie was cornering her, putting her in dangerous waters right in front of Ashton. Yet she could do nothing.

Swallowing her irritation, Mirriam clenched her teeth, her forced smile trembling as she struggled to regain her composure.

Across from her, Cassie simply smiled–sweet, victorious, and utterly unapologetic.

However, Cassie’s small victory was painfully short–lived.

A firm hand suddenly clamped around her knee beneath the table, fingers pressing possessively into her skin. Cassie stiffened at once. She didn’t need to look to know who it belonged to.

Ashton Pierce.

Her breath caught. She discreetly nudged his hand with her knee, a silent warning, but instead of withdrawing, his grip tightened–slow, deliberate. He drew her leg closer to him, claiming the space between them inch by inch.

Cassie shifted in her seat, pulse racing, fear flickering through her. The table was crowded, the room filled with quiet conversation and clinking cutlery. One wrong movement and someone might notice.

Keeping her expression composed, she slipped her other hand beneath the table, intending to pry his fingers away. But Ashton was faster.

His hand turned, fingers sliding between hers, locking them together.

Cassie sucked in a shallow breath. She tugged once–twice–but he refused to let go, his grip firm and unwavering, as if daring her to resist him openly.

To her utter exasperation, Ashton Pierce did not release her hand.

He continued eating with infuriating composure, lifting his fork and cutting his steak as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening–as though their fingers were not tightly entwined beneath the table, hidden from sight. 1

Forced to adapt, Cassie returned to her meal with only one hand free, every movement careful, measured. She kept her gaze on her plate, silently praying that no one would notice the stiffness in her posture or the shallow way she now breathed.

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