razorblade | sebastian vettel ✓

chapter 11 | good intentions

"I'm not asking you if you want to do it or not, I'm telling you to do it." His tone was so sour and irked. "If you don't then I'm pretty sure someone like Jan wouldn't have any issue using the recording material you shared with me to pull together the kind of article I want."

Cassandra could murder him. She wanted to. The mere mention of the name Jan touched a nerve with her. And Hans knew that. The little feud between them wasn't unfamiliar to everybody at the magazine, and he knew he could take advantage of that to get a reaction out of her. The sudden sound of someone walking downstairs distracted her, but she knew Hans was on the other side awaiting her answer. Sebastian's loud jawn prompted Cassandra to turn to him as he approached the kitchen. He smiled at her, and just winked at the sight of her talking on the phone.

She swallowed hard. "Don't." Her gaze flickered to Sebastian. "I can—I will do it the way you want it."

"Thank you for collaborating, Cassandra," Hans told her. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt. "We'll keep in touch."

"Sure." Sebastian downed a glass of water and folded his arms over his chest, attentively looking at her. "Thanks for the feedback." She said with bitterness hanging from her tone. It might've not been noticeable for the German, but she was sure Hans could pick up the hint. He knew her well enough.

There were no pleasantries or courtesies exchanged when the call ended. Cassandra just slowly put the phone away from her ear. Sebastian walked over to her, trapping her between the counter and him, his hands holding onto the surface of the counter behind her. She looked at him, and he smiled. By default she smiled too, trying to forget for a moment that Hans even existed in the same dimension they did.

"Was that your boyfriend?" He joked, pressing his body to hers.

Her arms found their way around his neck. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Sebastian chuckled. "It was," She pursed her lips in a sign of distaste, or what she hoped looked like it. "It was the editor of the magazine." She didn't want to get into more detail. "Nothing important...good morning."

Sebastian scanned her face and gave her a dopey smile. "Good morning to me." Cassandra gently pulled the hairs at the nape of his neck. He complained with a funny grunt. "How did you sleep?"

"Germans are very hospitable apparently. They let you sleep in their bed and everything, wow." He placed a hand on her waist and squeezed. "Brits could learn a thing or two, I guess."

"I'm open to learning everything about British culture. Very open." His suggestive notions were very charming, which filled her with curiosity because she would never find that cute from anyone else. "Wait," Something seemed to flash in his mind. "You told me something about your mom not being English, didn't you? On the day of the interview. I remember."

Her stomach dropped, but she tried to maintain a neutral expression. Cassandra let go of him and shrugged one shoulder. As if pretending she didn't care. "That's not important." She deeply hoped her voice didn't sound as strangled as she felt.

Sebastian eyed her with curiosity, and Cassandra avoided his gaze, looking past him at the big glass door in front of her on the other far side of the room. She spotted a pool, not too big, but not too small. He opened his mouth to say something, probably related to her change, but she was faster and interrupted him before he could gather his words.

"You have a pool." Cassandra pointed out, nodding at where her eyes were focused.

His gaze switched to follow her attention, then back at her. "I do, yes. I thought I showed it to you yesterday." She shook her head. The thing about her mother still lingered in his mind, but he could spare her for a bit. "Do you want to go in?" He pointed at it with his finger.