Selene POV

Of all the people I thought I’d run into today—while carrying a tray of lemon water and judgment-flavored tea—the last was Uncle Cassian.

Not that the café wasn’t nice. It was charming, elegant even, with warm lighting and tables adorned in soft linen and fresh-cut flowers. But Cassian? The Alpha with the tailored suits, sharp jawline, and colder-than-ice glare? He seemed like the kind of man who only dined in exclusive rooftop lounges with a dress code, not in this cozy, ...