Elias had never been inside a house that looked this aesthetically gorgeous. Apparently, his imagination when reading Guns and Roses was not up to par as Elias tried to not let it obvious that he was gobsmacked and drooling over the male lead's home.
Cassian's mansion revealed wide opulent hallways, the glimmer of chandeliers throwing gold on every surface. The air smelled faintly of expensive cedar, and their every step echoed.
Elias followed after Cassian because his legs and brain were too weak to do anything else. Honestly, he felt safe next to him. Being anywhere else had him feeling incredibly anxious but he would brood on why he was feeling this way later. All, he wanted was for the man to stop looking at him as if it was his fault he got attacked by thugs.
"How do you plan to pay me back for saving your life?"
Elias blinked. "I—what?"
Cassian leaned against the edge of the counter, dropping his glass of wine. "You heard me."
Elias tried to laugh, but it came out like a squeak. "You—you want me to pay you?"
"My car got destroyed in my attempt to save you," Cassian said smoothly. "And I dealt with those men, paying for your debt."
Elias swallowed. "You—you can't be serious. It is not like I asked you to pay for me."
Cassian's gaze didn't move. The silence stretched. Elias's chest tightened. He looked around the room, half expecting some armed men to pop out from the shadows.
"I don't have any money," he said quietly. "If that's what you're—"
"I don't need your money." Cassian pushed off the counter and slowly walked toward him. "I need something else."
Elias tensed, instinctively leaning back as Cassian came closer. His heart thundered against his ribs.
"I'm not—" Elias's throat went dry. "If you're implying something… like that—"
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Elias flushed. "You know what. I'm not selling my body. I don't care what happened, or how scary you look, or how rich you are, but I'm not—"
Cassian's chuckle was low and sharp, like the scrape of steel. "Relax, Elias. You're not my type."
Well, that hurt more than it should have.
"Um, thank you?"
Cassian circled him slowly. "You have a mouth that runs faster than your sense of self-preservation. But that might come in handy."
Elias blinked, unsure if he should feel insulted or relieved. "Handy? For what?"
Cassian stopped behind him. Elias could feel the man's presence at his back, heat radiating off him.
"There's a person I need you to spy on," Cassian said softly.
Elias frowned. "Me? You want me to… what, spy on someone for you? Have you seen me?"
"You're exactly what I needed. With your features and lack of connection to me, you will do perfectly."
Elias wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "You saved me so you could use me?"
Cassian's lips quirked slightly, not quite a smile. "You prefer to think I did it out of kindness?"
"I—" Elias stopped, because what could he even say to that? The man had a point. Cassian Moretti didn't seem like the type to believe in random acts of mercy, even when he read him in the book.
Elias rubbed a hand over his face. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to… work for you? Doing what, exactly?"
Cassian's eyes glinted in the firelight. "Helping me get rid of him."
Elias stared. "You want me to help you kill a guy? Are you insane?!"
Cassian tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle piece he intended to force into place. "You don't want to do it?"
"Of course, I don't. I have a functioning brain."
Amusement flickered in Cassian's gaze. "You'll do fine."
"I'll be killed the moment he sees him. He will figure it out."
"That's a possibility."
Elias's jaw dropped. "You can't just—just say that!"
"You're dramatic."
"I'm realistic!" Elias shot back.
"If that makes you fill better," Cassian murmured.
Elias paced. "You are insane. I can't do this, I can't. Give me any other job. I can be your secretary? I'm good with numbers. I can cook, not Michelin but I'm good enough. I can wash your laundry. Any other thing. Literally."
Cassian raised his glass, eyes watching him over the rim of the glass. "Sit down, Elias."
"No!"
"Elias." It came out low and firm, sending goosebumps all over his body.
Elias froze mid-step. His throat went tight. Against his better judgment, he sat on the nearest couch.
Cassian set the glass aside and came closer again, until Elias could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, the faint scar along his throat. His scent hit Elias hard, an addicting scent of bergamot that soothed Elias nerves and had him leaning forward.
"It's only this one time. I'm trying to help you," Cassian said quietly. "Those men who came to your apartment? They'll come again. Maybe not for money this time. Maybe just for fun."
Elias's stomach turned.
"I can protect you," Cassian continued.
"So I work for you, and what? You own me now?" Elias snapped.
Cassian smiled faintly. "Don't tempt me."
Elias's pulse roared in his ears, and his ears warmed. He was terrified, yes, but something else stirred in him.
He wanted to say no again. To walk out. To return to his apartment, to his pathetic sense of normalcy. But the memory of those men, their hands on him, the way they talked about selling him for parts... His throat closed.
Cassian must have seen the flicker of fear, because his tone shifted slightly. "You'll stay here for now. My men will handle whatever's left of your mother's debt."
"I didn't ask you to—"
"Play nice, omega."
Elias stared at him, frustration bubbling up at the use of his designation. "You really don't believe in asking for anything, do you?"
Cassian leaned in. "Not when I can take it."
Elias's heart skipped. He hated that he didn't move back. For a long, breathless second, neither spoke.
"You'll start tomorrow." He brushed a hand under Elias's chin, forcing him to look up. His touch was deceptively gentle but his eyes were not. "Don't make me regret saving your life."