Taken Over

by Penny Jordan

  Peter was ringing to confirm the arrangements for their date that night. They were going out to celebrate their as yet unpublicised engagement, and to make arrangements for their wedding at the end of the month. Not until she was actually married to Peter would she feel completely safe, Cassie thought as she replaced the receiver. Safe? She frowned a little, force of habit encouraging her to analyse her emotions. From what or whom should she need to feel safe? Against her will her eyes were drawn to Joel Howard’s photograph and she stared blindly at it for several minutes before finally tearing her gaze away.

  * * *

  SHE WAS LATE leaving the office, primarily because of an idea she had suddenly had that she couldn’t wait to start working on. It was only when she happened to glance at her watch and realised the time that she had reluctantly left her computer.

  Now she had barely half an hour in which to get ready for their date. Guilt smote her as she remembered the hair appointment she had made. She had wanted to look her best for Peter tonight, feeling that she owed it to him to make some special effort on his behalf. She knew why he was marrying her. It couldn’t be easy for him. She sighed faintly, studying her face in her mirror. Every feature was unremarkable save perhaps for the size and shape of her eyes and the delicate bone structure of her body, but Cassie could see no virtue in these. She was too thin; too pale and just generally too uninteresting.

  When she had showered and put on clean underwear she opened her wardrobe doors. All the clothes inside it had been chosen for their anonymity; chosen to help her blend into a crowd and thus escape any criticism. Selecting a mushroom beige dress she tugged it on and fastened it. The loose, shapeless style disguised her slimness covering her from wrists to knees in dull beige. Against the dress her skin looked paler than ever, her hair even more mousy. Cassie normally wore it up in a neat chignon and she gathered it into this style with the ease of long practice. At one time she had worn it in one long plait, but she had been so teased for this at university that she had adopted a more mature style. She had once toyed with the idea of wearing contact lenses, but as she told herself that really she needed her glasses only for close work she had abandoned this idea. She put them on to apply a brief covering of make-up, adding her lipstick almost mechanically, wondering why it was that make-up did so little for her. A brief spray of the rich, oriental perfume Peter had bought for her, and she was ready. That the perfume did not suit her at all, did not concern her, Peter had chosen it and therefore she felt she must wear it.

  She glanced down at the large solitaire weighing down her slender finger and picked up her coat. She was just putting it on when she heard her door.

  Peter smiled when he saw her, leaning forward to give her a dutiful peck on her cheek. She couldn’t imagine Joel Howard embracing his dates so tamely. The thought made her face flame with anger. Why on earth was she thinking about him?

  ‘Ready?’

  She nodded and smiled, following Peter outside.

  ‘My parents went on ahead to the restaurant,’ he told her with a smile. ‘My car’s outside.’

  Peter’s parents. Cassie’s heart sank. She wasn’t too keen on her in-laws-to-be, finding Peter’s father brash and overbearing, and his mother another potential Aunt Renee. She knew that Isabel Williams was disappointed in her only son’s choice of wife; and she also sensed that even though Ralph Williams was pleased by the match, he was contemptuous of her as a woman. Sometimes Cassie felt that she wanted to scream that it wasn’t her fault that she was plain; that she still had feelings and could still be hurt, but she squashed the impulse. As she followed Peter into his car she found herself stifling the reckless desire to turn to him and demand that he kissed her, really kissed her. What on earth was the matter with her? She shivered despite the warmth of the car and Peter was instantly concerned.

  ‘It’s time I got a new car,’ he told her, frowning. ‘This one’s had it, but father replaced his Rolls earlier this year. Perhaps you could buy me a new car as a wedding present?’

  Cassie knew that he was only teasing but somehow the words grated. She was getting oversensitive, she told herself. She had entered this engagement willingly enough; she had known why Peter had proposed; she couldn’t claim that she loved him any more than he loved her, so why this feeling of distaste; this desire to open the car door and run?

  Bridal nerves? She smiled derisively. Hadn’t her father brought her up to face the truth about herself, no matter how painful? She was a plain, clever woman, whose fiancé was marrying her because of her cleverness rather than her beauty. Was that really any worse than being married for beauty? Beauty faded, ability lasted…so who really was the loser; the beauty or the blue-stocking?

  Sighing, Cassie realised that they had reached the restaurant. Peter looked very attractive in his dinner suit, his fair hair gleaming under the lights in the foyer. It wasn’t his fault that despite his boyish good looks there was a weak, almost petulant droop to his mouth. He had been spoiled by his mother, Cassie knew; and she also suspected that Isabel Williams fully intended to carry on that spoiling after their marriage.

  The restaurant was a popular one and full. They were shown to their table where Peter’s parents were waiting for them. Isabel Williams made a big show of kissing Cassie enthusiastically, but Cassie could see the rejection in her eyes, the smug female satisfaction in the younger woman’s plainness, and as she studied her mother-in-law-to-be’s immaculate make-up and expensive silk dress Cassie was acutely conscious of her own plain appearance.

  Once their meal was ordered Isabel started to discuss plans for the wedding.

  ‘Talk to Cassie about that some other time,’ Ralph Williams ordered his wife. ‘Cassie, I want to set up a meeting between our two accountants…’ He went on talking and Cassie was suddenly and acutely conscious of being studied by someone outside their table.

  So intense was the sensation of being watched that her skin prickled underneath it. She itched to turn round but refused to give in to the impulse, forcing herself to listen to Peter’s father. He was asking her about the work she had in progress, enquiring if she was working on anything new. She was just about to demur, hating talking about what she was doing until it was clear in her own mind, when she felt an overwhelming urge to turn round seize her. She had given in to it almost before she was aware of doing so, her breath catching in her throat as her glance clashed with the navy-blue stare of Joel Howard. He was seated two tables away, just simply watching her, oblivious to the chatter of his blonde companion. The look in his eyes was so savagely angry that Cassie rocked with the force of it. It was like shouting defiance at thunder and lighting, and her mind reeled away from the shattering impact of his anger. She had known he was angry at her refusal to talk to him, but the intensity of that rage was something she had not anticipated. It was several seconds before she could draw her glance away and in that time Peter became conscious of her lack of attention.

  ‘Joel Howard,’ he exclaimed in disgust, ‘what on earth is he doing here?’

  His father spun round, frowning angrily at the other table. ‘He wants Cassietronics.’ He said it loudly enough for the other man to hear, and Cassie caught the flash of fury darken the navy-blue eyes to black. Fear, and something else coursed through her body, making her shake and cling to the safe security of Peter’s fingers. The stone in her engagement ring glittered and she could almost feel the instant Joel Howard’s attention became fixed on it, the expression on his face changing, hardening first to rage and then to contemptuous derision.

  Quite distinctly above the murmur of conversation from the other tables Cassie heard his companion complaining, ‘Darling, what’s wrong? You look dreadfully angry.’

  She could just hear Joel’s response, and as the cruelty of it drove what colour there was from her face, she knew that it had been pitched deliberately for her to hear it.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he told the blonde, ‘I was just thinking that some men would sell their very souls, not to
mention their lives, to get what they want.’

  The blonde pouted, and Cassie couldn’t drag her eyes away even though she desperately wanted to. ‘Would you?’ she asked him archly. Across the intervening tables, his eyes locked on Cassie’s, contempt and derision mingling.

  ‘Not in this particular case,’ he drawled, and Cassie knew the words were meant for her. ‘There are some prices too high for any man to pay.’ His gaze left her face to slide contemptuously over her body and where she had been pale Cassie was now hot, with humiliation and rage; so bitter and angry that she was shaking with it. At her side Ralph Williams said something, and remembering his earlier question she replied brightly and a little too loudly.

  ‘As a matter of fact I am working on something new—it’s going to be a wedding present for Peter.’ She flashed a bright and totally meaningless smile at her fiancé, barely aware of what she was saying as she told him, ‘If it’s anywhere near as successful as my last one darling, it will buy you a whole fleet of new cars—and the garages to go with them.’

  Ordinarily, Cassie would have been appalled by her behaviour, shrinking away from the crassness of it, but right now, all she cared about was wiping the derisive glitter from Joel Howard’s eyes; she wanted to see him humiliated as he had just humiliated her. Without saying the words he had told her plainly that in his eyes she had bought herself a husband; and that no woman would ever be allowed to buy him.

  The rest of the meal passed in a daze. She drank champagne, she knew that, and she listened to toasts on their engagement. Later she and Peter danced, but although he held her close to his body, murmuring his delight at her earlier words, excitement making his body tense against hers, in reality she was far away from him, concentrating on the sight of Joel Howard, dancing with his blonde companion. Her head barely reached his shoulder and their bodies swayed together as intimately as though they had been making love… As they would make love later on. Cassie’s head swam with the intensity of her thoughts: she shivered in Peter’s arms, shaking with revulsion at the direction of her thoughts. They were an invasion of the other couple’s privacy; almost voyeuristic in their intensity and they shamed her to her soul. What was it about Joel Howard that prompted such a reaction from her; that drove her beyond the boundaries of logic and reason into a realm where emotions alone held sway?

  She was relieved when the time came for them finally to leave. She was just waiting for Peter in the foyer when she felt iron fingers curl round her arm. She froze instantly, knowing with a knowledge that went beyond logic whose fingers they were.

  ‘Why are you marrying him?’

  The contempt in his voice lashed her into swift retaliation. ‘I thought you already knew. I’m buying myself a husband. Peter is a very attractive man.’

  ‘Attractive enough to make you willing to part with Cassietronics?’ His voice derided her, telling her that he knew exactly why Peter was marrying her. She wanted to lash out and hurt him as he had just hurt her by laying bare the fact that without her skill, without her company Peter would never even have looked at her. It was one thing for her to know that, it was another for someone else; for him, to point that out to her, and suddenly she latched on to the thing that would wound him the deepest.

  Baring her teeth in a parody of a smile, she said softly, ‘Oh no, but knowing that by marrying him I’m preventing you from getting Cassietronics makes it more than worthwhile.’

  She pulled herself free of his grip before he could retaliate, walking on shaking legs to where Peter had just emerged from the cloakroom with her jacket. It was only when they reached the door that she turned round, impelled by something stronger than her will to look at Joel Howard. What she saw in his face made her pale and sway, shocked by the force of the implacable determination she saw written there; forced to acknowledge the message he was sending her with those cold, hard eyes. She might have thought she had won, but he hadn’t given up the fight yet. He still wanted her company; and he still meant to have it, with or without her consent.

  As she settled into Peter’s car she was attacked by a cowardly desire to beg him to marry her tomorrow; but she fought against the impulse telling herself that she was reacting foolishly emotionally. What could Joel Howard really do? Nothing, nothing at all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WAS almost a week since Peter had taken her out to dinner with his parents; almost a week since she had seen Joel Howard, and in that short space of time he had occupied far too many of her thoughts Cassie reflected, angered by her own inability to dismiss the man from her mind.

  This afternoon she had an appointment for the first fitting of her wedding dress. Peter’s mother had made all the arrangements and Cassie glared resentfully at the entry in her diary, wishing instead that she could spend the afternoon working on her new idea.

  It was always like this when a new idea came to her; she wanted to spend all the time she could developing it and it occupied her thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Not quite everything on this occasion a small voice reminded her; there was the irritating monotony with which Joel Howard interrupted her thought processes.

  Damn the man, she thought angrily. Another three weeks and she would be safely married to Peter and Cassietronics would be out of his reach for ever. That must be why she spent so much time thinking about him. That threat of his, unspoken maybe, but very real threat, none the less, was preying on her mind. Her intercom buzzed and she flicked the switch automatically. The voice of her temporary secretary, cool and disembodied reminded her of her afternoon appointment. Her own secretary had been absent with some mysterious ailment for several days but before going off ill she had arranged for a temporary girl to take her place. The temp was almost frighteningly efficient Cassie acknowledged, shrugging on the jacket of her neat tweed suit. She had owned the suit for several years, and although it was unremarkable both in cut and colour, she felt comfortable in it. It helped her to fade into the background. As she moved Peter’s ring glittered under the office lighting and she almost flinched from its gleam. It wasn’t really her sort of ring at all, far too cold and brash; chosen for show—rather like her marriage an inner voice taunted—but Cassie firmly dismissed it. As yet she and Peter had made no formal announcement to the press of their engagement. Peter’s father had suggested they wait until just before the wedding; had in fact told them that he would call a press conference for that day, at which the announcement would be made. Although she had said nothing at the time, Cassie frowned a little, wondering if she was quite happy about the way Peter’s father seemed to be ruling their lives. Peter was weak where his parents were concerned, and although initially that had not worried her, gradually she was coming to see their power over him as a cause for concern. What would happen if there were ever to be a clash between Pentaton’s interests and those of Cassietronics? Would Peter support her?

  Telling herself that she was just suffering from pre-nuptial nerves Cassie let herself out of her office. The temporary secretary; a tall, attractive brunette smiled at her, but Cassie ignored her smile. The other girl was poised and attractive, her very self-confidence making Cassie miserably aware of her own short-comings. Although she was only wearing a very simple skirt and blouse the rich emerald colour provided a stark contrast for Cassie’s own drab oatmeal outfit.

  Would there ever come a day when the sight of a pretty woman didn’t immediately underline and reinforce her own insecurities Cassie wondered bitterly, as she left the office.

  Her car was parked in the basement car park, and she had already told the temp that she didn’t expect to be back that afternoon. In the capacious bag she always carried with her were the notes she had jotted down for her new game. Perhaps this evening she would get an opportunity to work on them. The initial stages of creating a new game were always very absorbing, and as she pressed the basement button in the lift Cassie felt her doubts and dreads slip away as she was filled with the familiar tide of exultation a new venture always brought her.


  By the time she stepped out of the lift she was feeling much more optimistic. The basement was murkily dark after the bright light of the lift, and while she waited for her eyes to adjust she made her way automatically to her parking bay. As she reached her car she frowned over the selfish way in which the owner of the next bay had parked his vehicle, almost, but not quite blocking her in. The car was unfamiliar to her, long and sleek, its black paintwork glittering almost menacingly.

  As she drew nearer she recognised its distinctive trademark and her mouth curled disdainfully. A Ferrari, no doubt the proud possession of some image-conscious, successful businessman occupying one of the other offices. Without bothering to give it another glance Cassie extracted her keys from her bag and bent to insert them into the lock.

  The totally unexpected pressure of strong fingers on her arm made her freeze, her heart thudding in instinctive terror as fear drove a surge of adrenalin through her veins. Without stopping to think or reason Cassie tried to pull away, fear clawing frantically inside her. Her free hand lashed out at her foe, palm and fingers smarting from the blow she managed to land against a frighteningly hard torso.

  ‘Stop it, I don’t intend to hurt you.’ Her free hand was tethered, imprisoned with its fellow behind her back in the same instant that she was spun round to face her assailant.

  The sight of him was almost as terrifying as discovering his presence. The colour drained from Cassie’s face as she stared up into familiar ink-blue eyes and then unwillingly down over a hard boned male face to the grim line of a mouth drawn into a hard curl of disdain.

  ‘If you always react like that when a man touches you, Peter Williams must have been dreading his honeymoon.’

  The mocking words infiltrated her brain slowly because it was far too busy trying to come to terms with the identity of her attacker.