The Truth About Forever (The Truth About, #2)

2

Penelope 

"Quit being judgemental," Cassian drawls. "I was too focused on smoking to realize I had my own lighter."

I shove the door open and hang my tote bag on the nearest hanger, kicking my heels off. There's no logic behind why I wore heels. They're nothing but harmful to a woman's body. "I'm not giving you your cigarettes back, Cassian."

A crease forms between his eyebrows. "Aw, come on, Pen!"

I turn to face him, shoving my heels to the side. "Smoking is bad for your lungs. I will not allow you waste away your health by smoking—even if it is a once-in-a-while hobby to calm your nerves. Find an alternative route."

As unpolished and infuriating as he may be, Cassian Russell is adorable when he pouts, and being stared down by his big brown eyes is making it impossible to think. Also, now the image of him in his suit and smoking while he leans against the pillar seems to be stuck in my head. The way he calls me "Pen" whenever we're bantering back and forth. Sometimes, I wonder how my name would sound on his lips while we're naked in bed together. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and exhale through my nose. I'm mortified by my thoughts. My silly school-girl crush has bloomed into a full-on sex fantasy, and I don't know how to prevent it. I love everything about Cassian—from his grotesque sense of humour to the darker tone of his skin. How can I not after hearing how much he did for Jake and Hanna? After their parents perished in a car accident, Cassian offered them a place to stay and gave Jake time to compose himself.

"I don't want to find an alternative route," he replies. "Smoking is fine."

I roll my eyes and head for the kitchen. Although we only exchanged a few words during the cab ride, Cassian and I came to a mutual conclusion—we need a night out after that meeting. I may have told Cassian that Ophelia Henry and her caramel-coloured hair weren't intimidating, but they sure as hell were. After years of experience in the business world, I know how cutthroat women have to be in order to succeed, and it's obvious she knew the same. Every time that woman looked at me, I felt like daggers were digging into the powerhouse of my nerves. My nerves are still on edge. I need a gin and tonic with lime to ease them. And some deep-fried pickles.

"Seriously, Pen," Cassian calls. "I want my smokes back."

I remove his pack of smokes from my pocket, tossing them on the counter and staring at them. Tapping my bottom lip, I weigh my options. While it wouldn't profit Cassian if I were to cut them into small pieces, the action would profit his lungs. Despite his oblivious charm and his inability to see what's in front of him, I still care.

Turning around, I rummage through the surrounding drawers until I find a pair of scissors. I set them down on the counter and pick up the pack of smokes.

"Sorry, Cass," I mutter, opening the pack. I remove the first one and cut it in half. The basic components of the cigarette flutter to the counter: tobacco, chemical additives, a filter, and the paper wrapping. "This is for your own good."