Christmas With Cassandra: A Billionaire Holiday Tale

by Cynthia Dane

  No wonder she had to put so much trust into a man. Before meeting Henry, it had seemed so impossible to meet one who would have her best interests so close to his heart.

  When Henry asked her to come to him, it certainly meant to sit in his lap with both arms wrapped around his neck and head resting on the back of his office chair. Monica was lithe enough to not be an extra burden on the furniture, and Henry was tall and strong enough to secure her in his lap, even with her feet fluttering off the floor. And, damn, was there anything more reassuring than existing in her husband’s embrace like this? Aside from holding her daughter, anyway…

  “Cassandra’s returning to the city,” Monica muttered against her husband’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen her in forever.”

  “Nor have I.” His hand squeezed her knee. “I thought she had become a west coast hermit. I was fine with that, honestly.”

  Monica snorted into his shoulder. “You used to date her.”

  “It was more than dating… on her end, anyway. I daresay she believed we were fast tracked to being engaged.”

  “Was this before or after she dated your sister?”

  Henry bit his tongue long enough for Monica to realize the surprising truth. “After. Her dating Eva was how we formally met.”

  “Henry!” Monica jerked up. “Are you serious?”

  “As Batman.” He attempted to chuckle, but when he saw his wife’s face, he stopped himself. “I was under the impression that they were not serious. She told me she didn’t care.”

  “Damnit, Henry, and you believed her?” Henry had admitted to some stupid things in his life, but dating his sister’s ex-girlfriend was a new one even for him. Monica didn’t care if it was all in the past. If Henry was okay with doing something like that back then… what the fuck would he do now? Date their daughter’s ex should anything terrible happen to Monica? (He would never, of course, but Monica sometimes couldn’t be sure.)

  “I have done foolish things. We all have.” He shrugged. “I can’t say her coming back to town affects me in any way.”

  Monica picked at one of the hairs growing from his chin. Henry wasn’t the hairiest man around, but he had a decent five o’ clock shadow when his genetics put their minds to it. “Were you the father of her child?”

  Regardless of what she had told blissfully ignorant Jasmine earlier, Monica was certain that the reason Cassandra bailed on New England was because she didn’t want to be around the father of her unfortunate child. Everyone – and that meant everyone who was in the know during the time – knew that Cassandra was a ticking time bomb of emotions. Men loved dating her because she was rich, sophisticated, and apparently good in bed. What drove them away from her, however, was her clinginess and amazing ability to rewrite histories, whatever those histories were supposed to be. In Henry’s case, he had once told his wife that while he had enjoyed his time with Cassandra, he had quickly decided she wasn’t “the one” because she was about as interesting as a dormouse. Unlike Monica, who had all the submissive qualities he loved without being boring. Monica could have entire conversations about politics, finance, business, literature and even world history… Cassandra, well…

  She had her strengths, but conversation wasn’t one of them. Great girlfriend material, not the best fiancé and wife material.

  “I doubt that I am,” Henry finally said. “Not that it matters. It unfortunately was not meant to be.”

  Monica could hardly believe he said that. (Couldn’t she, though? No man was empathetically perfect, no matter how much she loved him for his high level of empathy.) “It absolutely matters! If she sees you and has a break down… well, what can we do? It especially wouldn’t help since you just had a baby. With your new wife. Who is the ex-girlfriend of…”

  “Don’t go down that road.” Henry caressed Monica’s cheek. They sat up together, her back bumping against his desk. “Don’t do that to yourself, Princess. What’s in the past should probably stay there. Is it possible that I am somehow involved in that? Unfortunately. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. But we didn’t have a child together. You and I did. I married you. I became a parent with you, Monica. You and I are all that matter now, along with our daughter. I will defend you if necessary. You know I will.”

  “Hopefully it should never come to that.”

  “Hopefully, but you know how the dice like to roll.”

  Of course Monica knew. She was all too familiar thanks to her life experiences so far.

  “I heard that she’s going to the gala.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be? Her family is practically throwing it. We go because we like the Welshes well enough. Just because Cassandra is a bit… eccentric…”

  Monica took the hint he was throwing at her and hopped up on his desk. Her legs dangled on either side of his, her eyes never leaving the line of buttons dotting his collared shirt. Would it be so bad for him to take that shirt off right now?

  Henry caught the look of mischief in her eyes. “Already wanting to change the subject, my lovely?”

  “You had asked me to come into your office for a reason, hadn’t you?”

  “Observant as always.” Henry leaned forward, slowly, his chair growling beneath his shifting weight. It made him sound like a wild animal prowling in her direction. “I know you’re busy today. So am I. So let’s make this quick, shall we?”

  Hmph. Monica may not have personally dated many men, but she was confident in saying that most of them were the same. Henry had said it herself. She was observant, and she had observed plenty of men thanks to her lifestyle and the business she now ran. For fuck’s sake, Henry had winked at her when he told her to be in his office at her convenience. Of course they were both busy people at this time of year. So of course an office quickie was on the docket.

  “Quick, huh?” Monica tried to fight the need already building within her. After all, there were things to tend to around the estate. She probably had some work emails to return as well. Who was Henry to call her into his office like he was some big, powerful principal and she was the misbehaving teacher still wet behind the ears?

  Oh, now wouldn’t that be a fun scenario? Not that Monica was good at playing innocent. But the type of teacher she had in mind was far from innocent…

  “Where in the world is that mind of yours going?” Henry leaned in toward her, a kiss barely touching her lips. Shivers jetted through her body, making a diligent beeline for her nipples and the warmth between her legs. “When I want you right here with me?”

  Monica’s demure smile started off as a coy act, but ended in genuine amusement. “Fantasizing about us, sir.”

  That was what he wanted to hear. Henry lightly gripped her hips and placed a delectable kiss on her lips. “As you should be. You should always be fantasizing about us.”

  Monica knew there was no turning back from the first real kiss that blossomed between them. She could never say no to Henry once the idea of sex was in her head. Good thing, too. Nothing calmed her nerves and soothed her soul more than making love to her husband. Even if they only had ten minutes to spare on a busy December day.

  Times like those made her so grateful that he was hers. Monica also wasn’t the jealous type, but the thought of him being with another woman, let alone fathering a child with one… a part of her wanted solid answers. Another, bigger part of her told her to leave well enough alone and enjoy what she had and could call her own.

  She was a privileged woman. But someone of her background knew that the privilege could disappear any day. If 2016 had been good to her, then she dreaded what could possibly happen in the coming year.

  Luckily, she had a family other women would die for… let alone her.

  A Note From Your Narrator

  Dear esteemed reader,

  This is where our story splits and takes two very different paths. For, as I’m sure you can imagine, once Monica Warren is aware of some salacious news, it’s only a matter of time before the whole of New England knows about it.<
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  Within two hours of Jasmine’s departure from the Warren Estate, Monica placed a timely phone call that she almost feared regretting. And by her return to work the next day, she had another conversation that would set forth a string of gossip making its way back to the west coast, from where Cassandra was currently traveling.

  Ah, yes, Cassandra! By now I’m sure that you, dearest reader, are curious to know this Cassandra Welsh and discern your own truth about her. Rest assured. Your humbled narrator will get to her eventually. For how could it possibly be fun to meet the woman right away, as opposed to gathering the opinions and misconstrued facts from some of our favorite couples?

  Here are the “facts” we know so far about Cassandra Welsh:

  She is the only daughter of a very old, very wealthy, and very reclusive family. (Everyone who was not ignorant of her existence agrees upon this point. Let’s accept it as fact.)

  She is either a waifish willow of a feminine flower or a modelesque harpy, depending on who you ask. (And their opinions will often change depending upon how their own lives are going.)

  She has dated almost every eligible bachelor her age with a personal portfolio totaling hundreds of millions of dollars or greater. She’s also dated a few eligible bachelorettes. (While there are some who will deny having touched Cassandra, we can safely assume they are embarrassed liars. Because, dear readers, few men, particularly the alpha-type cads we all know and love, can deny an attraction to Cassandra. Perhaps you will soon understand why.)

  Every one of these relationships has ended with someone’s heart either broken (Cassandra’s) or on the verge of collapsing if not for the intervention of hard alcohol and other loose women (everyone she’s dated.) And those who managed to scrape by with no drama are not even the types to recognize said drama, although Cassandra certainly never forgets.

  Most scandalous of all are the rumors surrounding her departure from New England not so long ago. Is it true that she became pregnant from one of her many disastrous relationships? Is it true that the child was unfortunately lost, spurring her crushed soul to flee the haunting memories of her past mistakes? And if these matters are true… who is the father?

  Unfortunately, we are not meant to know the answers to these questions quite yet. They are coming in due time, rest assured, but until then, we must further ponder the existence of Cassandra Welsh and what her life has meant for many of the heroes (and heroines) we have come to rely on for entertainment and a touch of humanity.

  For if you and I knew the truth of the matter before any of our friends did, well, that wouldn’t be a very interesting story, now would it?

  (No, it wouldn’t. That was the correct answer you were looking for. And if you did answer otherwise, well, your humbled narrator shall pretend to not have heard it. Trust me. You don’t want to know yet.)

  What you do want to know is what path we shall follow first. Do we follow Monica’s phone call, or do we follow her to work?

  Since the phone call came first, we shall explore that avenue of information. Let us resume our tale with one of the most unconventional couples anyone knows… let alone Monica Warren, who never knows what to expect when she calls upon these certain friends and clients.

  (But we have a pretty good idea what to expect, don’t we?)

  Scene 6

  The Andrews

  Few people understood the extent to which the Andrews were willing to get a building renovated on time. This extended to their own office building, which – besides their house – was the one piece of property they were hell bent on never letting go of. Unless the right price came along, of course.

  But holding on to a building for a long time meant renovations had to be made eventually. Times changed, and Lana Andrews would not have potential business partners and real estate investors show up to an executive office that reeked of 2006 sensibilities. (Even if she really, really liked the furniture she made billions of dollars on. Oh well. It had to go!)

  As usual for renovations, however, everything was woefully behind schedule. With Christmas holidays coming up and the contractors insisting on taking “time off” or whatever, Lana convinced husband Ken to keep working through the renovations so they could be renovated on time.

  Both of them knew what a terrible idea that was. And yet…

  “I said that our lawyer just called and wants to meet tomorrow!” Lana shouted to her husband on the other side of their shared executive sitting area. Their offices, finished with their renovations while the crew took on the receiving areas, boasted open doors but way too much noise – because the double doors to this area were removed for replacement, and the audacious sounds of drills, hammers, and crewmen yelling at one another dominated the workspace. (But at least the evils of having to wear masks and hardhats whenever they went to the bathroom were over with.)

  Ken held his hand up to his ear and gave his wife one of the most disgruntled shrugs he had ever gifted the world. Grumbling, Lana pulled out her cell phone and texted her husband the news. He picked up his own phone right away and gave her a thumbs up.

  “This is ridiculous,” Lana muttered. She had half a mind to go out there and demand that the foreman somehow quiet things down, but that only worked if she was already in a good mood… or the foreman was really cute. Neither were the case today.

  She blew her husband a half-assed kiss before retreating into her office and cranking up the noise machine. A woman would much rather listen to whales whining at the tops of their lungs as opposed to the rabble going on beyond her (supposedly soundproofed, but so much for that) door. Besides, she was expecting a few other phone calls anyway.

  …But not one from Monica Warren. When that phone number lit up her screen a few minutes later, Lana was compelled to sit back in her seat and wonder why someone like Lady Warren was ringing her up so late in the afternoon.

  “Monica!” Lana greeted with her all-frills voice. She tossed one leg over the other and pretended she didn’t hear sweaty grunts and curses (and not the sexy kind) going on in the other room. “What brings you to my phone on this lovely gray afternoon?” She glanced outside. Sunset was early that time of year, and the sky was already covered in disastrous gray clouds. It would probably storm on the way home. Good thing she and Ken were taking the same car – and that they had brought a driver to deal with it. Lana wanted to curl up in the backseat with her husband and search for some warmth, with or without the tinted partition up. Was it too much to ask for a make-out session that lasted the whole twenty-minute car ride? Never mind the kissing. Lana could think of some other things for them to do.

  “Good to hear you in such a pleasant mood, Mrs. Andrews,” Monica replied. Lana was always disappointed to hear Lady Warren in such no-nonsense spirits. Either the flesh-peddler was running behind schedule, or she wasn’t calling to have a pleasant conversation with one of her biggest clients. “I take it that the Christmas season finds you well?”

  “Well and busy.” Lana could tone down her attitude at will, and right now she willed it to match Monica’s demeanor. “Wrapping up the loose ends before the holidays get us while dealing with a renovation right outside my door. Now, what can I do for you? There’s no chance you called me while we’re both supposed to be busy just to shoot the breeze.” Lana chuckled. “This must be business related. What is it, Mrs. Warren? Need to buy a new condominium complex for your expanding sex business? Kenny and I just came into the possession of a lovely little thing overlooking the waterfront. Fifty million and it’s all yours!” She was offering a bargain, honestly. For ten units? That could easily go for ten to fifteen million each? Monica should be thanking her!

  “No thank you.” The diplomacy with which Monica always spoke should have shaken Lana to her core, but she was not easy to faze. Quite the opposite. She was always trying to find ways to faze women like Monica. She had yet to come up with a solid, workable plan, however. One of these days… “But you are correct in that this is partially business related. First of all,
I am calling to confirm your attendance at the Château’s annual New Year’s party.”

  Lana’s chuckle turned into a well-timed cackle. “Monica, please! You know we’ll be there as we RSVP’d over a month ago. Besides…” She leaned forward against her desk, staring at a framed photo of her and Ken on their second honeymoon a year ago. Lana licked her bottom lip before continuing. “What a bullshit reason to call me. What’s the real reason?”

  Monica was not quick to respond. Ha! Had Lana fazed her after all? “I have some news I thought you might be interested in.”

  Monica? Rumor mongering? That honestly wasn’t much like her. Or at least… she never went out of her way to rumor monger with the likes of Lana. Whatever it was, surely it was serious… and without a doubt the truth. Monica was too much of a lady to engage in the type of tawdry half-truths Lana loved to indulge. “Do tell. I hope it’s sexy.”

  “Perhaps.” Monica took her sweet time getting to the point. “It has to do with Cassandra Welsh.”

  Wow. There was a name Lana hadn’t heard in a long time. Perhaps too long, if her memories served her right. “Little Cassandra? I never thought the day would come in which you and I had a conversation about her. What is she up to these days? Last I heard she moved to California or wherever.”

  “Seattle,” Monica corrected. “And I hear that she’s coming back to town. For the Christmas gala her family is a part of.”

  “Oh. Is that so?” Lana’s finger traced a broad outline of the gilded photo frame. In it, she and Ken stood before the Caribbean waves, taking in the sun and smiling just before sharing a kiss. They had conned some other beach lover to take the photo for them. The person had been more than willing after hearing it was a ten year wedding anniversary kiss. “I haven’t seen her since she moved. Why are you calling me to share this wonderful bit of information, though? I can’t imagine it has anything to do with you.”