C1. Play Anything
Sienna POV
The night grew late.
The guests in the restaurant had gradually departed.
And the most relaxing part of my day had finally arrived.
In the back, the kitchen staff was deep-cleaning, while the servers cleared the remaining tables.
As the supervisor, I made my rounds, checking off each task one by one.
Then I noticed the grand piano in the center of the room.
The lid was left wide open, and the bench hadn't been tucked back in.
Ugh. That new pianist.
I sighed and walked over.
The very instant my fingers brushed the polished wood of the lid, I yanked my hand back as if I’d been burned.
I retreated a few steps, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I thought I was finally brave enough to touch it.
But I still failed...
I ended up hiding in the storage room for quite a long time.
By the time I finally stepped back out, both the restaurant and the kitchen had fallen into complete silence.
My colleagues had all clocked out and left.
I stared at the piano, my footsteps dragging slow and heavy as I approached it.
My breathing hitched, growing thick in my throat.
I dug my fingernails deep into my palms.
Be brave. Life has to go back to normal eventually.
Put an end to this ghost.
Do it today.
I settled myself onto the bench, my trembling hands hovering over the keys—
A single note rang out.
Then another.
The melodious chords began to echo through the empty restaurant.
It was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Pure muscle memory had guided the music straight to my fingertips.
Though it was nowhere near as flawless as how I used to play, it didn’t matter.
After all, I finally conquered the fear that haunted me for two long years.
Suddenly, as one note sustained, my hands froze rigid over the keys.
The third movement—that lightning-fast passage—I just couldn't force my fingers through it.
I massaged my stiff right hand, letting out a soft, defeated sigh.
It really is... ruined...
A shadow flickered in my peripheral vision.
I spun around abruptly, only to realize that five men had materialized behind me out of nowhere.
Dressed in identical, sharp black suits, their sheer presence made the air in the room turn suffocatingly heavy.
I raised my eyes to look at the man leading them.
My heart skipped a beat, nearly stopping entirely.
Cassian Russo...
No. It's impossible.
I took half a step back, my hand slamming onto the piano.
The lid shut with a heavy BANG, the sound piercing through the cavernous, empty restaurant.
“Gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry, but the kitchen is already closed for the night. Please come back tomorrow.”
I dropped my gaze, not daring to look at him for another second.
My breathing completely lost its rhythm.
Cassian... we hadn’t seen each other in two years.
One of the men beside him muttered a low complaint.
“Don, I told you, a joint like this is definitely closed at this hour.”
“Let’s just hit a bar instead. Pop a few good bottles to celebrate.”
Cassian shot a single, razor-sharp glance over his shoulder, and the men instantly shut their mouths.
My heart seized violently in my chest.
They called him... Don?
I caught my breath, a cold chill running down my spine.
He never mentioned anything about this to me. Never.
Memories of the past violently ripped their way back into my mind.
Him, drenched in blood.
The gruesome gunshot wounds on his body.
...
My fingertips grew icy cold.
I curled my hands into tight fists, desperately trying to suppress those horrific images. Don’t overthink it. Maybe I just misheard them.
He jerked his chin toward the exit.
“All of you, get out.”
Though the words were meant for his men, his eyes remained locked dead on my face.
“Get out? Go where?”
The men glanced back and forth between him and me, as if they had already picked up on the suffocating tension in the air.
“Wherever.”
His voice was terrifyingly soft, yet it instantly made those men wipe the lazy, casual shrugs right off their faces.
“Leave.
“Now.”
“Understood, Don.”
The men in black suits filed out, leaving the restaurant entirely empty except for me and Cassian.
He wore a tailored black suit, its sharp, impeccable cut emphasizing shoulders that looked broader than I remembered.
His dark hair was slicked back, exposing the fiercely sharp angles of his brow bone.
His deep blue eyes narrowed slightly, staring straight through me, he could read every single thought inside my head.
I cast my eyes down, staring intensely at the geometric patterns on the floor tiles.
My heart was hammered wildly against my ribs.
Two years apart.
I had envisioned our reunion in a thousand different ways, but I never imagined meeting him like this.
I had rehearsed a thousand opening lines, but now, I couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Cassian pulled out a dining chair and sat down.
“Play something for me,” he said, his voice deadly calm.
My heart gave a violent jolt.
I clenched my right hand, quietly hiding it behind my back.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t remember the sheet music anymore.”
He stared at me in agonizing silence.
The crystal chandelier overhead cast harsh, unforgiving shadows across the rugged contours of his face.
“Play anything.”
His voice was slow, unhurried, and perfectly measured.
I took a deep, shaky breath, dragging up every ounce of courage I had left just to squeeze out the words.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know how anymore.”
The corner of his mouth curved up slightly, carving out a cold, mocking smirk.
A few agonizing seconds ticked by.
“Then make me a cup of coffee.”
His tone left absolutely no room for refusal.
I kept chanting frantic reassurances to myself in my head.
He’s just a guest.
Refusing three times is unprofessional...
“Just a moment, sir.”
I turned to leave.
I had barely taken two steps when his voice pursued me.
“Black.”
I froze in my tracks, my heart launching into another wild round of hammering against my ribs.
“The way you used to make it.”
A phantom chill ran down my spine.
He recognizes me...
He still remembers...
I didn't dare turn around.
Forcing a strained, barely audible “Understood” from the tight knot in my throat.
I practically fled into the safety of the kitchen.
The machine whirred to life, grinding the beans.
The drone of the grinder filled my skull, but his words echoed relentlessly in my mind, drowning out the noise.
Did the buzzer go off? Or did it not?
Before I realized it, my hand had already reached out for the mug.
A sudden, searing wave of heat scalded the back of my hand.
I let out a sharp cry.
The coffee cup slipped from my grasp and crashed down.
Scalding water and shattered ceramic shards splattered across the floor.
I rushed over to the sink, shoving my burned hand under the running cold water.
Once the blinding pain subsided a little, I went back to clean up the mess.
I had just swept the broken pieces into a small pile when a pair of polished black leather shoes stepped directly into my line of sight.
Inch by inch, I lifted my gaze.
Cassian was standing there, looking down at me.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll brew you another cup right away.”
I scrambled to my feet, instinctively taking a step back to create some distance.
His hand shot out toward me.
“Let me see it.”
“It’s fine... It’s not that bad...”
Ignoring my protests, he reached out and gripped my wrist in a firm hold.
“Hiss—”
The sharp sting made me gasp for air.
“This is what you call fine?”
I fell silent, unable to find an excuse.
He glanced around the kitchen, spotted the first-aid kit, and walked straight over to it.
Seconds later, he returned with a tube of burn ointment.
“Hand.”
I hesitated for a beat, but ultimately gave in and extended my hand to him.
The cool cream met my scorched skin, bringing an instant wave of soothing relief.
The fiery, throbbing sting finally began to fade.
Then, a familiar warmth stung my eyes.
Two years ago, when my right hand was ruined, I had envisioned this exact scene a thousand times in my lonely nights.
But now, when he was finally standing right beside me...
Everything had changed.
He kept his head down, his touch incredibly gentle.
Even after the ointment was fully applied, he didn't let go of me right away.
His gaze lingered on the angry red burn on the back of my hand, as if he were lost in some deep thought.
A few more seconds passed before he slowly released his grip.
I withdrew my hand.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll make you a fresh cup right away.”
He let out a faint, enigmatic smile.
“No need.
“I can already smell it. It’s exactly the way it used to be.”
My chest tightened.
I couldn’t even find the words to describe the sensation.
It felt like something soft had brushed across my heart.
He slid a bank card onto the table.
“Check, please.”
I picked it up.
The icy surface was etched with intricate, luxurious embossing.
It was a black card from an elite bank.
Is this really the same man from two years ago?
The one who had absolutely nothing to his name?
A sudden, suffocating weight pressed down on my chest.
I walked over to the register to process the payment.
The machine whirred, spitting out the receipt.
“Please sign here, sir.”
I knew I should have looked away, but I couldn't stop myself from stealing a glance.
The tip of his pen glided smoothly across the paper, leaving behind a flawless, elegant signature.
Cassian Russo.
I let out a silent, trembling breath of relief.
At least his name... at least he didn’t lie to me about that.
But in the very next second, a wave of self-derision washed over me.
How ridiculous.
Cassian handed the slip back to me.
“Thank you for coming, sir. Have a good night.”
I kept my chin tucked down, refusing to meet his eyes.
Yet, he didn’t leave.
He stood his ground.
“What time do you start tomorrow?”
I blinked, caught entirely off guard.
“What?”
He flicked his gaze toward the prime table right by the window.
“Reserve that table for me.”
My heart began to sink slowly into an endless abyss.
“Tomorrow at noon,” he said.
And without another word, he turned and walked away.
💥 💥 💥
Oh my God, why is he still coming?
