CASSIE 14: Mixed Signals
CASSIE 14: Mixed Signals
When Ronan said my face was everywhere, he meant it literally.
Different versions of me were painted on canvases, showing moments of my life he watched from the shadows. Most were from advertisements, but others captured red–carpet events, brand modeling sessions, and candid moments I barely remembered.
Still, I couldn’t find a single image where I looked sad or in pain–like he had chosen only the happy or perfect parts of me
on purpose.
“You found it,” Ronan murmured, his warm breath brushing my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
Ronan materialized behind me without a sound. His face remained expressionless, but something new flickered in those green irises–something I couldn’t place.
“A–are you, my stalker?” I stammered, dazed and uncertain.
He didn’t answer immediately. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“For how long?”
“Four years.”
I should’ve known. During those quiet moments captured in the paintings, I always felt like someone was watching me.
Especially that night when I first met him.
I should be afraid… right?
But I wasn’t.
There was no sense of danger coming from him–only a strange familiarity.
He had been there, helping me immediately because he had always been watching. The thought overwhelmed me, bringing a rush of emotions that made me feel dizzy again.
“Are you going to hurt me… as my next boyfriend?” I asked, my mind clouding as my vision blurred while looking up at him. His jaw clenched at my words. He stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around my waist, whether to steady me or hold me.
“I don’t know,” he replied with unexpected honesty.
I never wanted to create another Asher, even though deep down, I know it was my fault for tolerating it. I got what I allowed.
My head rested against Ronan’s chest.
Even though logic told me Ronan was a stranger, something inside me felt like I had known him forever. It was strangely comforting to think that someone had been watching over me from a distance, noticing me when I couldn’t even see myself.
“Are you tired?” he asked softly, seeing my legs had weakened.
“Yes…”
Without hesitation, he gathered me into his arms, and I instinctively wrapped mine around his neck. Our eyes met in the dim light, and I found myself tracing his eyebrow with my fingertip.
“Ronan… do you think souls find each other again… in another life?”
As expected, his brow furrowed beneath my touch. He didn’t understand, confusion evident in his expression.
There was no fairy to change everything, no magic to make things different, but if I had more time, I’d want to spend it truly getting to know him.
He laid me gently on a king–size bed that seemed to mold around my body, soft and warm.
“Rest,” he whispered.
I gave in to exhaustion, closing my eyes as my strength faded. I knew that when I woke up, everything would be different.
***
I awoke to find myself cradled against Ronan’s body, our faces mere inches apart, his soft snoring like a gentle melody greeting the morning.
‘Goodness, he was so damn delicious!‘
‘I mean, gorgeous!‘
My cheeks flushed bright red. It had been ages since I’d truly appreciated a man’s appearance and felt that giddy flutter.
I couldn’t help but trace my finger along the detailed tattoos on his chest. He suddenly caught my wrist, stopping my
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CASSIE 14 Mixed Signals
exploration.
“That’s dangerous, he murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
I swallowed at his words, feeling a little shaken.
“… I’m hungry!” I blurted out.
“You want to eat me?” he teased with a smirk.
As if on cue, my stomach growled loudly. My face burned even hotter. He stood up, treating me to a full view of his impressive physique.
I had to physically restrain myself from reaching for those perfectly defined abs.
‘Good gracious, mother of all tales! Why did you send me Prince Charming to tease me??
“Is something wrong?” he asked, noticing my dazed expression.
“Huh? No! Absolutely nothing!” I stammered, trying to regain my composure.
He handed me a paper bag. “You can change into these clothes.”
It was a Chloé summer dress, delivered by his assistant the night before.
While he stepped away, I checked my phone–numerous missed calls from Asher, along with a message each from Evan and Mom.
I opened Evan’s message first: “Where are you, Cassie? Dad’s worried you might try what you did before.”
He was referring to my teenage attempt to frighten Asher with empty threats of self–harm.
I quickly replied: “I was nineteen then, Evan. Not in my right mind. I’m much clearer–headed now.”
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