Chapter 3 - The Brother Cassian Refused to Forgive
By the second month, Chicago had fallen in love with Penelope Blake.
Not because she tried.
Because she didn’t.
When reporters asked which designer she preferred, she told them whichever one made dresses with pockets.
When a society columnist asked how Cassian had proposed, Penelope said, “Badly.”
When someone photographed her leaving a children’s hospital carrying cupcakes, the story spread for three days.
The public began calling her “Chicago’s Baker Bride.”
Cassian hated the nickname.
Penelope bought him a coffee mug printed with it.
He used the mug every morning.
He claimed this was because everything else was in the dishwasher.
Penelope knew the house employed eleven people.
She didn’t argue.
Something inside Mercer House had changed.
Dinner became less formal.
Cassian came home earlier.
Penelope started leaving pastries in his office.
He started appearing at the bakery without warning.
Sometimes he worked from the corner table while she tested recipes.
Sometimes he did nothing except watch.
“You know,” she said one afternoon, shaping brioche, “normal people read books when they’re bored.”
“I’m not bored.”
“You’ve been staring at me for twelve minutes.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About international crime?”
“No.”
“Corporate acquisitions?”
“No.”
“Whether butter is a personality trait?”
His mouth curved.
“You.”
Penelope’s hands stopped.
Cassian looked back at his laptop.
She threw flour at him.
He stared at the white streak on his suit.
The bakery went silent.
Two employees froze.
Marcus turned away to hide a laugh.
Cassian stood.
Penelope backed up.
“Don’t.”
He dipped two fingers into flour.
“Cassian.”
“Run.”
She ran.
For thirty ridiculous seconds, the owner of Mercer Holdings chased his fake fiancée around a bakery while customers filmed everything.
The video received fourteen million views.
His attorneys called it “the greatest accidental public relations event of the year.”
Cassian called it humiliating.
Penelope caught him watching the video twice.
But beneath the warmth, something darker grew.
Someone sent Penelope flowers without a card.
A week later, an envelope appeared beneath her windshield wiper.
Inside was a photograph of Cassian leaving a warehouse at two in the morning.
On the back:
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED TO MICHAEL MERCER.
Penelope did not hide it.
Rule two.
She gave it to Cassian that night.
Every trace of emotion vanished from his face.
“Where did you get this?”
“Bakery parking lot.”
“Did anyone approach you?”
“No.”
Cassian called Marcus.
Within minutes, security doubled.
Penelope waited until they were alone.
“Who is Michael Mercer?”
Cassian poured whiskey.
He didn’t drink.
“My father.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Cassian looked at her.
“Car accident.”
Penelope held up the photograph.
“Then why does someone want me asking?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
Cassian’s silence confirmed it.
“Is this about Dorian?”
His jaw hardened.
“Leave Dorian out of it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Penelope felt her temper rise.
“You don’t get to pull me into your life and then tell me nothing.”
“You agreed to a public arrangement. Not family history.”
“Someone is putting messages on my car.”
Cassian set down the glass.
“I will handle it.”
“That phrase is beginning to irritate me.”
“It should reassure you.”
“It doesn’t.”
Cassian walked toward her.
“Penelope.”
“No. You made honesty a rule.”
“About threats.”
“This is a threat.”
He stopped.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Cassian said, “My father died twelve years ago.”
Penelope waited.
“My mother had already died. Dorian and I inherited the company together.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And Dorian?”
“Twenty-two.”
Cassian walked to the window.
“My father was not a good man.”
The admission sounded costly.
“He believed loyalty was something you purchased with fear. He believed family existed to continue his name.”
“Was he violent?”
Cassian’s expression answered.
Penelope’s anger softened.
“One night, he and Dorian fought.”
“About what?”
Cassian looked away.
“Me.”
Penelope frowned.
“My father discovered Dorian had been moving money out of one of our businesses.”
“Stealing?”
“That’s what I believed.”
“And now?”
“I later discovered the money went to employees my father had cheated.”
Penelope stared.
“Dorian was helping them.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father drove away drunk after the argument.”
“The accident.”
“Yes.”
“Dorian blames himself?”
Cassian laughed once without humor.
“I blamed him.”
The room went quiet.
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“Do you still?”
Cassian did not answer.
Penelope understood.
“Then your rule…”
“Is not about my father.”
“Cassian.”
“No.”
He turned.
“The conversation is finished.”
She hated when he became that man.
The cold man.
The inaccessible one.
Penelope walked toward the door.
His voice stopped her.
“My father called me before he died.”
She turned.
Cassian stood very still.
“He said Dorian had betrayed us. He told me to protect the family from him.”
Penelope’s chest tightened.
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“For years.”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
Cassian looked at her.
“I discovered my father lied about nearly everything.”
“Except?”
“I haven’t determined that yet.”
The next afternoon, Penelope found Dorian in the garden.
He sat on a stone bench reading.
“You look like someone searching for trouble,” he said without looking up.
“I’m searching for answers.”
“Same thing in this family.”
Penelope sat beside him.
“Michael Mercer.”
Dorian closed the book.
There was a long silence.
“Cassian told you?”
“Some.”
“Then ask him the rest.”
“He shuts down.”
Dorian smiled sadly.
“He learned that from our father.”
“You two really hate each other.”
Dorian looked toward the house.
“No.”
“Cassian told me the same thing.”
“That’s because it’s true.”
Penelope studied him.
“Then why does he forbid me from coming to you?”
Dorian’s green eyes sharpened.
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Cassian still thinks control can prevent disaster.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
“Does every Mercer man answer questions like a politician?”
“Only the traumatized ones.”
Penelope laughed despite herself.
Dorian’s expression softened.
Then he said, “Cassian was not always like this.”
“What was he like?”
“Annoying.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
Dorian smiled.
“He used to laugh more.”
Penelope pictured Cassian chasing her through flour.
“He still does.”
“Because of you.”
Her chest tightened.
Dorian leaned back.
“Our father trained Cassian to believe love was vulnerability. Every person he cared about could become leverage.”
“So he stopped caring.”
“No.”
Dorian looked toward the windows.
“He stopped admitting it.”
Penelope followed his gaze.
Cassian stood inside.
Watching them.
His face was unreadable.
Dorian stood.
“Your fiancé looks murderous.”
“Fake fiancé.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Dorian walked away.
Cassian entered the garden.
“What did I say?”
Penelope rose.
“About?”
“Dorian.”
“You said don’t ask him for help.”
“I said do not involve yourself with him.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Cassian stopped.
Penelope folded her arms.
“You said never go to him for help. I didn’t.”
“That is semantic manipulation.”
“That is contract language.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You hired me.”
Cassian stared.
Then unexpectedly, he smiled.
Penelope’s anger weakened.
“I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Become attractive while I’m annoyed.”
The smile disappeared.
Something hotter replaced it.
Cassian stepped closer.
Penelope did not retreat.
“You find me attractive?”
She felt suddenly foolish.
“You own mirrors.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“This conversation is stupid.”
She turned.
Cassian caught her hand.
Not hard.
Just enough.
“Penelope.”
She looked back.
His expression had changed.
“Tell me to let go.”
She should have.
Instead she whispered, “I don’t want you to.”
Cassian’s breathing changed.
He drew her toward him.
Slowly enough that she could stop him.
She didn’t.
His hand moved to her waist.
Her palms settled against his chest.
No cameras.
No audience.
No contract requirement.
Cassian lowered his head.
“Last chance.”
Penelope kissed him.
He froze for half a heartbeat.
Then everything inside him seemed to break.
Cassian pulled her close.
The kiss was nothing like the balcony.
No performance.
No restraint.
Penelope’s fingers slid into his hair.
Cassian made a rough sound and backed her gently against the garden wall.
She could feel his heart.
Fast.
Much faster than she expected.
When they separated, both were breathing hard.
Cassian looked almost angry.
“That was a mistake.”
Penelope’s face fell.
He closed his eyes.
“That came out wrong.”
“It came out pretty clearly.”
She tried to leave.
Cassian caught her again.
“The mistake,” he said, voice low, “is that I want to do it again.”
Penelope stopped.
“And again.”
Her pulse jumped.
“And I am not supposed to want anything from you that is not in the contract.”
“Maybe the contract is stupid.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
Cassian almost laughed.
“Did Cassian Mercer just agree with me?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Penelope touched the edge of his scar.
His entire body went still.
“How did you get this?”
His eyes darkened.
“My father.”
Her fingers stopped.
Cassian looked at her hand against his face.
“He struck me with a glass.”
Penelope’s stomach turned.
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Why?”
“I told him not to hit Dorian.”
Everything shifted.
Penelope lowered her hand.
The brothers weren’t enemies.
Not really.
They were two men carrying the same father differently.
Cassian had protected Dorian once.
Maybe he still was.
“Cassian…”
His phone rang.
The moment vanished.
He answered.
Marcus’s voice was audible even from several feet away.
“Sir. We found the source of the photograph.”
Cassian’s face became cold.
“Who?”
A pause.
Cassian looked toward the house.
Toward where Dorian had disappeared.
“Are you certain?”
Another pause.
His eyes hardened.
“Bring him to me.”
Penelope’s stomach tightened.
“Who was it?”
Cassian ended the call.
“One of Dorian’s former employees.”
Penelope stared.
“Former?”
“From a company Dorian quietly sold three months ago.”
“So Dorian may not know.”
“Or he may.”
There it was again.
Suspicion.
Old wounds.
Penelope stepped closer.
“Don’t assume the worst.”
Cassian looked at her.
“You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you anymore.”
That landed.
He said nothing.
That night, Penelope woke to shouting.
She went into the hallway.
Cassian and Dorian stood below in the marble foyer.
“You had him followed?” Dorian demanded.
“I had everyone followed.”
“You arrogant bastard.”
“Then explain why your former employee is threatening Penelope.”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough.”
Dorian laughed bitterly.
“Of course not. Nothing ever is.”
Cassian stepped forward.
“You stay away from her.”
Penelope descended the stairs.
“Stop.”
Both men turned.
Cassian’s face hardened.
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Penelope.”
“I said no.”
She looked between them.
“You’re both acting like teenagers fighting over a car.”
Dorian almost smiled.
Cassian did not.
Penelope faced Dorian.
“Did you send the photograph?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No.”
She believed him.
Cassian saw it.
That was the problem.
“You trust him?” Cassian asked.
“I asked him a question.”
“And believed the answer.”
“Yes.”
Something wounded flashed across Cassian’s face before anger replaced it.
Dorian noticed too.
“Oh, Cass.”
“Don’t.”
Dorian’s tone softened.
“She is not choosing me over you.”
Cassian’s expression became lethal.
“I said don’t.”
Dorian raised his hands and walked away.
Penelope remained.
Cassian would not look at her.
“This is why I made the rule.”
“Because you’re jealous?”
His head snapped toward her.
“Jealous?”
“You look like you want to murder your brother because I believed him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Cassian came closer.
His voice dropped.
“Dorian knows exactly how to get inside people.”
“And you don’t?”
“He makes people believe he needs them.”
“Maybe he does.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened.
Penelope suddenly saw something.
Not suspicion.
Fear.
“You’re afraid he’ll use me against you.”
Cassian went still.
Penelope’s heartbeat changed.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
He looked away.
She stepped closer.
“Because I matter.”
Silence.
“Cassian.”
His eyes closed.
Then he said quietly, “Yes.”
Penelope forgot to breathe.
Cassian opened his eyes.
“And that is exactly why you need to stay away from him.”
He walked away before she could answer.
From the upper landing, Dorian watched.
His face held no triumph.
Only sadness.
May you like
And something Penelope would not understand until months later.
Guilt.
