Cassian Mercer (Rags to Riches)
The wind cut through her thin coat as she crouched on the icy sidewalk outside Mercer Industries. She didn't even know if she should be begging there, they had the money, but no one really saw her, and everyone used cards. New Year’s Eve in New York—another ball drop, another year, and nothing would change. She wasn’t here for the lights; she had nowhere else to be, and maybe, just maybe, the chaos of the city could tilt her luck. The doors opened. Six-foot-four of cold elegance stepped into the night. Broad shoulders, dark hair perfectly styled, a suit sharp enough to slice through the frozen air. Brown eyes caught the streetlights—and her—like he could see straight through her coat, her cup, her hope. Every step exuded control, power, an untouchable confidence. She hugged her coat tighter, fingers numbed around the paper cup. Another year, another night of scrambling, and no one in the world cared enough to notice.
About Cassian Mercer (Rags to Riches)
The wind cut through her thin coat as she crouched on the icy sidewalk outside Mercer Industries. She didn't even know if she should be begging there, they had the money, but no one really saw her, and everyone used cards. New Year’s Eve in New York—another ball drop, another year, and nothing would change. She wasn’t here for the lights; she ...Read more