by Juniper Hart
“If you are worried about those women,” Charlie continued, “I assure you, they will not be permitted back on the premises again.”
Pity that, Cassius thought. I would have liked to buy their dinner.
“I was not worried in the least,” he replied dryly.
“Very well, sir. Your brandy and bill are back at your booth.”
Cassius nodded and turned to follow the waiter back inside, his pulse faster than usual.
That had certainly been quite entertaining. It had been much more than a passing amusement to him, though. It had almost been arousing to watch the flock of women descend on the unsuspecting ex in defense of the sensational vixen he had been inexplicably drawn toward.
I hate the guy, and I don’t even know him, Cassius thought curiously as he reclaimed his seat.
Of course, if what the women had said was true, Ryan was to be blamed for the scandal. However, there were always two sides to every story. Cassius wondered why he had no interest in hearing the man’s side in this case. Perhaps Ryan’s story would make Cassius hate him all the more.
His eyes shifted toward the couple, who seemed to have regained their collectedness, but as they dropped their napkins onto the table and Ryan poured over the leather enveloped bill, Cassius could see they were ready to leave.
“Charlie!” he called, and the waiter appeared at his side in seconds.
“Yes, Mr. Williams?”
“Do you still carry the Opus One? Napa Valley 2012?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send a bottle to the couple there. They have suffered quite an embarrassment this evening, wouldn’t you say?”
Charlie nodded, and as he turned to oblige the request, Cassius noticed the young man was swallowing the urge to remind him that it was a four-hundred-dollar gift. Cassius wasn’t concerned about the cost; money was no object.
Cassius watched with intrigued eyes as Charlie presented the bottle to the table, turning slightly to address their benefactor. The couple gaped at him slightly, a small smile forming on Ryan’s lips as he nodded, raising a freshly poured glass and gesturing for Cassius to join them. Reluctantly, the real estate mogul ambled to his feet and ventured toward them, a half-grin on his face.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Cassius told them. “I simply hoped this would take the sting out of your evening.”
“That is very kind of you,” Ryan said. “Mister…?”
“Williams,” Cassius responded, extending his hand to the younger man. “Cass Williams.”
Ryan almost choked on his own saliva.
“The Cassius Williams?” he gasped. “Forbes, Time, The New Yorker—”
Cassius raised a hand, laughing.
“I think you are over-selling my reputation,” he replied modestly. “I am just Cass to my friends.”
“Wow!” Ryan gushed. “I am so honored! Sit, please join us for a glass of wine, at least!” He gestured for Charlie to bring them another glass, and Cassius found another chair so that he could sit.
“One glass,” he agreed, smiling at the silent woman. “Good evening, miss.”
“Oh, where are my manners?” Ryan continued, like he was a lovestruck school boy. “I am Ryan Shilling, and this is my girlfriend—”
“Fiancée,” the woman interrupted coldly, speaking for the first time since Cassius had appeared. Ryan chuckled slightly.
“Of course,” he agreed. “This is my fiancée, Elena Roy.” Cassius smiled to himself—he couldn’t help thinking about the drink Rob Roy, though he decided not to mention it. Then again, Ryan’s last name was Shilling, and Cassius held himself back from saying he didn’t think Ryan was worth one.
“Pleasure to meet you both,” he told them as Charlie poured a glass for him.
“What brings you to San Francisco, Mr. Williams?” Ryan asked, leaning on his elbows to stare in awe at the billionaire seated before him. “Are you closing some billion-dollar deal?”
“Well,” Cassius said, picking up his glass. “I am—”
A loud crash from behind him shoved the table a little, startling Cassius, and the stemmed crystal lurched from his hand, drenching both Elena and Ryan in blood red liquid. He gaped in shock at the couple for a long moment before he found his voice.
“Oh, my dear!” Cass cried, noting the fury on Elena’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, please forgive me!”
“This is my favorite dress!” Elena screamed, her features distorted in a hideous mask of displeasure. “This night is turning out to be a shit-show!”
“It’s all right!” Ryan cried, jumping to his feet. He shot Elena a warning look, but she didn’t seem to notice it as she sprang to her feet. “No big deal at all,” Ryan said quickly, trying to smile through his embarrassment.
Elena stomped off, probably toward the lady’s room, with a female server chasing after her with a bottle of club soda in hand, leaving the men to stare after her.
“My sincerest apologies,” Cassius said, rising. “I see that my gesture of goodwill has backfired.”
“Not at all!” Ryan gushed. “No need to go! We can resume our drinks.”
The desperation in his voice was nauseating, but Cassius only smiled patiently.
“I don’t think your fiancée will have any of that,” he argued.
“At least leave me your card!” Ryan exclaimed, his voice rising an octave.
Cassius shook his head. “I’m afraid I leave for New York tomorrow. I am not sure when I’ll be back in America again. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, though!”
He sauntered back to his booth, dropped enough hundred-dollar bills onto the table to pay for his bill and leave a generous tip, and disappeared through the back exit, where his car waited in the alleyway.
That worked out better than I planned, he laughed to himself as he slid onto the backseat of the town car. When he had sent the bottle to the table, Cassius had fully intended to “accidentally” douse Ryan with the wine, but he had genuinely been startled by the abrupt clang of dishes before he’d had the chance to do it himself. He had gotten both Ryan and his fiancée for the price of one.
He had no idea if either of them deserved it, but the magnetic energy he had felt toward Brooklyn had been unmistakable. He felt like he had paid her a silent tribute in his petty action, like it had been his duty to do so.
Brooklyn might not ever find out about it, but it still gave him a perverse pleasure.
How long has it been since I’ve done anything so stupid and immature for a woman? Cassius asked himself. It didn’t really matter—he found he didn’t regret it in the least.
“Back to the Fairmount, Mr. Williams?” his driver asked as they shot out of the alleyway.
Cassius stared at the back of his head for a quiet moment before answering.
“No,” he replied. “Take me to a nightclub called Palazzo.”
3
This was a stupid idea, Brooklyn thought, her mood growing increasingly sour as she slumped against the wall of the vibrating club.
“Come dance with me!” Maddy yelled in her ear as Christine tugged on her hand. Brooklyn tried to resist, but she was overpowered and almost dragged onto the dancefloor, her clique encircling her in their supportive arms—except Audrey, who had finally been dumped into a cab with Stella and sent on her way.
“She means well,” Stella apologized when she returned after seeing their friend home safely. “You know she’s got a good heart.”
Brooklyn couldn’t deny the truth in that, but it did not make up for the way her night had been brought to a crash.
It wasn’t even Audrey’s fault, she thought. Not really. It was Ryan’s for being there with Elena. How could he give her my ring? Does he intend to marry her?
The idea made her sick to her stomach. Then again, he had first given the ring to Brooklyn, and he had turned out to have no intentions of marrying her. Still, the image of Elena wearing her ring would not leave her mind. It opened a floodgate of other questions.
How long had Ryan been screwing Elena? He surely wouldn’t propose to her only a month after knowing her… would he?
Brooklyn thought of their own whirlwind engagement and shook her head.
“Stop thinking about him!” Maddy insisted, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her friend must’ve clearly read the look on her face. “It’s all about you tonight.”
They had ended up grabbing a bite at the Olive Garden after the fiasco at La Tortuga, and Brooklyn felt like the carbs were weighing in her stomach like a ton of bricks. Knowing that they were going to a dance club afterward, she shouldn’t have ordered pasta. It was like swimming right after eating.
“You love this song!” Stella yelled in her ear, trying to be heard over the music. “I know you want to bust out all your college moves!”
No, Brooklyn thought. I want to drink until this night is over.
Her well-meaning friends were beginning to feel like a suffocating blanket around her.
“I’m going to the bar!” she called back. “Anyone want anything?”
They shook their heads, gesturing to their full drinks, and Brooklyn made her escape. It seemed that she couldn’t catch any decent buzz, no matter how fast she downed her vodka tonic concoctions.
Something else to blame on the pasta, she grumbled to herself, annoyed. I shouldn’t have filled up on bread.
It was just one more woe to add to her already dismal mood.
Brooklyn fought her way through the crowd, oblivious to the appreciative looks she was getting from men and women alike. Despite the numerous gawking stares she received, and despite how hard the girls tried to make her forget about Ryan, nothing would possibly make her feel attractive tonight.
The limo will be outside at three, and then I can forget this ever happened, she thought, trying to catch the bartender’s eye. I can make it a few more hours.
Pushing her way to the front of the bar, Brooklyn wedged herself between a man and a woman uncomfortably, but she didn’t care; alcohol took precedent over ease. She impatiently drummed her fingers against the counter, straining to see where the bartenders had gone.
“The service is not very good in here, is it?” a man asked, his breath close to her ear.
His voice was warm and familiar, although Brooklyn was sure she had never heard it before. She instinctively jerked back, a shiver sliding down her spine. Her mouth fell open as she recognized the man she had locked eyes with in the restaurant—the one who had been sitting alone in the booth. And the one who had so openly witnessed her humiliation.
Is this night going to be the last one of my life? she asked herself. Are the gods testing me to my limit? Because I can’t handle much more of this.
Brooklyn pursed her lips together and stared ahead stonily, sensing that he was going to ask her about what had happened at La Tortuga earlier.
“Oh,” he said, his face close enough that she could smell his spicy aftershave. “There’s a bartender. Can I order your drink while I’ve got her attention?”
Brooklyn eyed him suspiciously as he waved the server over and asked for a brandy. Maybe he didn’t recognize her from the restaurant. Maybe she wasn’t as memorable as she had thought. Ryan certainly didn’t think she was.
“Double vodka tonic,” she replied, and the man added hers to his order. Brooklyn handed him the bill in her hand, but he waved it away.
“You can buy the next one,” he told her, and her mouth dropped over at the presumptuous statement.
“No, thanks,” she said flatly. “I’m leaving after this one.”
The man shrugged. “Who says that the next one will be here or tonight?”
The question caused Brooklyn to stare at him, a shiver prickling through her. Instead of being arrogant, his words were prophetic, as if he knew something that she did not. She had no way of responding to him, except to thank him as he handed her the drink she’d ordered.
“I’m reluctant to step away from the bar,” he confessed to her. “Because unlike you, I know I’m going to need another one.”
“Then you should probably stay put,” Brooklyn said. She had wanted to take her drink and go back to her friends, but she felt unable to move, like some unseen force kept her in place. After a moment of watching the crowd around them, she heard herself ask the stranger, “Are you from San Francisco?”
Why are you making conversation with a man who saw you get into a Jerry Springer moment a couple hours ago? Brooklyn chided herself. Get back to your friends and hide before he figures out who you are!
He chuckled and shook his head, glancing at her as he rested his elbows on the bar. “No, I’m not.”
Brooklyn waited for him to say more, but to her surprise, he did not provide any other information. It made her want to ask him more questions. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to push him and appear like she was prying. Then she shook her head. If the man wanted to have a conversation with her, he would, and it was stupid of her to just stand beside a stranger who had seen her at one of her lowest moments.
“Nice talking to you,” she said as she turned away.
“Where are you going?” he called, and she slowly gazed at him over her bare shoulder.
“To find my friends.”
“Oh,” the man replied. He held his gaze with hers, their eyes locked together, as if no one else was in the overcrowded club.
For a moment, Brooklyn wondered if remaining at his side was really as stupid as she had originally thought. “I could… I could stay…”
“I would like that,” the man said without hesitation, his eyes lighting up, and Brooklyn reclaimed her spot beside him.
The energy flowing between them was almost palpable, but it was more than just an escalating sexual tension. Brooklyn was again consumed with the feeling that she knew this man, even though she was positive she had never met him. Perhaps he was famous, and he was getting a kick out of the fact that Brooklyn didn’t recognize him. Whatever it was, she had no desire to go anywhere.
She found herself casually inching closer, doing so almost unconsciously. The man glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and from his expression, Brooklyn knew he could feel the line of her hip against his as she moved nearer to him.
After a few minutes, the man extended his hand for her to take it. “I’m Cass.”
“Brooklyn.” She seized his palm, relishing the softness of his hands against hers.
When the handshake was done, though, neither one released the other one for a couple of seconds, like they hadn’t wanted to let go. Their clasped palms fell between them, their fingers still holding on to each other’s, and they continued to stand in silence as the world whipped around them indifferently.
Brooklyn did not know how long they stood there.
Cass ordered another drink for each of them, and to Brooklyn’s both surprise and relief, he didn’t argue when she insisted on paying.
“I told you that you could get the next one,” he said.
Brooklyn shrugged her shoulders. “I… honestly didn’t believe you.”
“Well,” Cass chuckled, a smile on his lips. “That’s a mistake a lot of people make.”
Who was this man?
“You are looking at me strangely,” Cass commented, glancing at her through his peripheral vision. “Is… something wrong?” He suddenly seemed ill-at-ease, so Brooklyn quickly shook her head.
“No, I—I don’t think so,” she answered. Then, before she lost her nerve, she added, “Are you married?”
Cass almost choked on his drink. He turned his head to her.
“Do you think I would be in a place like this if I was married?” he asked dubiously, and his response made Brooklyn laugh. He was obviously not from around these parts.
“Engaged? Girlfriend?” she pressed. “Anyone wondering where you are right now, waiting up on you?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, though the smile was back on his face. “No. Have you?”
Brooklyn chuckled mirthlessly.
/> “No one cares where I am,” she mumbled. She immediately regretted her answer, shoving the intrusive thought out of her mind. It was no good for her to think like that—besides, she knew her friends cared about her. They had planned this entire night to get her back on her feet.
Cass glanced at her, and his voice was soft and gentle when he spoke. “I’m sure that’s not so.”
“Never mind that,” Brooklyn rushed on, shaking her head. “Do you want to come home with me tonight?”
Cass’s full mouth parted open, and he seemed to study her face, untangling his fingers from hers for the first time since they had touched. Brooklyn felt a well of disappointment threatening to drown her, but then Cass put his fingertips to her lips, his golden-green eyes almost glowing in the dim bar as he traced the lines of her mouth.
“It can only be for tonight,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, I will be gone.”
Brooklyn exhaled with relief.
“Tonight is all I need,” she reassured him. And she meant it.
At least, she thought she did.
4
Cassius’ town car waited in the alleyway, and as they fell onto the backseat, Brooklyn barely managed to give the driver her address before Cassius pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth was sweeter than he had imagined, the aftermath of vodka tickling his senses as he fell upon her, pressing her long body against the leather of the seat, his hands falling against the softness of her bare thighs.
Before anything else happened, Cassius closed the partition between them and his driver. Brooklyn moved to kick off her stilettos, but he stopped her, his palm resting on top of her foot.
“No,” he said gruffly. “Leave them on.”
She stared at him with surprised teal eyes but nodded slightly, parting her lips to allow him to lick into her mouth. Obliging, Cassius began to explore the inside of her mouth with his tongue, heat rising through his body to match the wave of hot emanating from Brooklyn as she wrapped her shapely legs around his waist. They seemed to melt together, and Cassius could not deny the shocking pulse hammering between them.
