Chapter 315

Cassandra Winslow's hand froze mid-air.

She turned slowly, flashing Alexander Kensington a bright smile.

"Alright, we'll play by your rules."

Crossing to the executive desk, she set down her designer tote and unzipped it with deliberate care.

Inside rested an oversized thermal container.

"I know how you get when you're working - completely forgetting basic human needs like eating."

She snatched the half-empty coffee cup from his desk and dumped its contents into the wastebasket.

"Black coffee on an empty stomach? Really, Alex? Even interns know better."

With a dramatic flourish, she popped open the container's lid.

Steam curled upward, revealing perfectly glazed ribs and golden fried chicken. The rich aroma of smoked paprika and honey glaze filled the office instantly.

"I remembered how much you loved the BBQ ribs from The Canopy. Got their signature fried chicken too."

Beaming, she arranged silverware before him with unnecessary ceremony. Propping her chin on both hands, she gazed at him with exaggerated expectancy.

Alexander arched one eyebrow. "You prepared this yourself?"

"Obviously! Come on, taste it already," Cassandra urged, her smile widening until her eyes nearly disappeared.

"You cooked?"

His repetition wasn't a question but an accusation. Those piercing gray eyes dissected her expression like a surgeon's scalpel.

Cassandra huffed, pushing back from the desk with enough force to make her Valentino heels click sharply against marble.

"Fine! It's from The Canopy's takeout! Happy? I literally just landed from Paris this afternoon - when exactly was I supposed to whip up a gourmet meal? Between jet lag and unpacking, I'm surprised I managed to change out of my travel clothes!"

"Nobody expected you to cook."

Alexander snapped the container shut with finality and slid it toward the desk's edge.

"You should be resting. Harrison can drive you home."

"I wanted to see you." Cassandra's voice turned petulant as she watched him reject the food without even a courtesy bite.

"Does it matter if I didn't cook it? I still went out of my way to bring you dinner. Since when do you turn down food from The Canopy?"

"Not hungry." His tone remained glacial. "It's late. Harrison will take you home."

"I'm not leaving!"

Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the desk's edge. "If takeout offends your delicate sensibilities, let's go out. Right now. My treat."

Before he could react, she'd circled the desk and seized his wrist with both hands.

"Midnight supper, Alex! Just like we used to!" The whine in her voice was calculated, perfected through years of getting her way.

She'd gone straight from the tarmac to The Canopy precisely for this excuse. Six months apart, and he thought she'd leave after five minutes? Not a chance.

"Cassandra. Enough." He peeled her fingers away with deliberate slowness.

"It's nearly midnight. You should be home recovering from your flight."

"I don't want to!"

The outburst echoed through the empty executive floor.

"You're really going to do this? I fly halfway across the world, and you can't even spare an hour? Six months, Alex! Six months since I've seen you, and this is the welcome I get?"

Alexander massaged his temples. "It's not safe for you to be wandering around at this hour."

"Since when do you care about curfews?" she shot back.

"Because I like you! The entire Kensington empire knows it! Is it a crime to want to see you?"

Her declaration would have scandalized any remaining staff.

Alexander's gaze turned arctic.

"I've told you before - you're like a sister to me. If you can't accept that, then stop pretending we have some sibling bond."

The Winslows and Kensingtons ran in the same elite circles.

Their grandfathers had built empires together. Old Man Kensington still owed the Winslow patriarch a life debt from some long-ago business crisis.

The families were practically woven together - Cassandra's aunt had married Alexander's uncle, making them cousins by marriage if one traced the connections closely enough.