by Mary Malcolm
He’d said he needed her to keep up the act of marriage so he could get a divorce, but not for the first time today, Cassie wondered if he had something else in mind.
Surely he didn’t still want her. Which left...? A boulder settled in the pit of her stomach and cold chills ran up and down her arms. Stephen wanted revenge. She knew it. She’d embarrassed him by leaving; made things harder by coming back and now he wanted to torture her.
Fine.
She straightened her back and stepped away from the dresser. Crossing over the sand colored carpet, she sank back into the guest bed. If he wanted to try to torture her, she didn’t have to make it easy on him.
Stephen might have his own agenda for what he wanted to do, but that didn’t mean Cassie had to play fair.
She’d been thinking too small.
Turning, she clicked off the Tiffany lamp and rolled over in bed. A cloud of angel feathers, really. The mattress cradled her in ways she hadn’t realized she could be cradled. The sheets, Egyptian cotton, she suspected, and a much higher thread-count than her discount store sheets, felt soft and silky against her skin.
Cassie loved nice things, but she had a thrifty side that ran deep. She thought she’d be able to get Stephen to call this off by spending his money, but as she rolled over in the bed, she realized, money was not an issue for him.
He’d probably love for her to spend some. It would make them appear more legitimate. No, she needed something bigger.
Something that would send such fear through him that he would want nothing more than to send her packing. And apparently telling his housekeeper he had intimacy issues was not it.
Snuggling deeper into the covers, Cassie crossed arms over her chest and tucked her knees up tight. She had to think of something insurmountable. Something Stephen himself would never see coming.
But for tonight, at least, she would enjoy these wonderful sheets.
****
Morning came with the phone beside her bed ringing and Abigail letting her know breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes.
Sitting up, Cassie stretched arms over her head and relaxed back into the plush pillows. Stephen Sands might have a lot of faults, but he had a very keen sense of comfort. She’d not slept so well in, well, possibly ever.
A glance out the window let her know the sun was up, but she had no idea the time. Surely Stephen would have left for work. Not that she felt afraid to face him. No, she could handle him just fine.
It was the kissing that got to her.
And that she couldn’t seem to stop her body’s reaction to those kisses.
Plus, if he hadn’t left for work, that meant he’d probably want to make a show of a good kiss at the door.
Jerk.
Pulling on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, Cassie wondered what Stephen had told Abigail. It seemed strange that the woman had welcomed her as his wife with no question. Sure, she was his servant, a word that made Cassie shiver in horror, but she was still a woman. Cassie couldn’t imagine not having questions about an arrangement as queer as theirs.
Of course, Abigail hadn’t questioned when Cassie told her she and Stephen weren’t intimate, either, so perhaps this was her nature. Tell her what you may, and she accepts unquestioning.
Cassie felt a little jealous.
Applying light lip-gloss and brushing her hair, she thought about their time in Vegas. She’d thought about it a lot over the past few weeks, but being so close had intensified the questions over the last twenty-four hours. They’d gotten married.
More so, she had his grandmother’s ring. At the thought, she twisted it on her finger.
But the fact that he had it meant Stephen planned to propose. He’d told her as much in his office yesterday but it still made her mind reel. Why marry a woman you don’t even plan to share a life with? Or, at very least, a woman with whom your entire relationship had been built on lies.
It seemed, well, odd. They’d spent time together—mostly in the bakery—even gone on a few dates. Spent glorious hours wrapped in each other’s arms in bed, but really, what kind of a relationship is that? It wasn’t as if they’d done many relationship things. Alcohol may have erased the actual ceremony sans a few small photograph-like memories, but the way she felt standing next to him she remembered clearly. She fit him perfectly.
That had been unforgettable.
The morning she woke up in his arms she felt more relaxed, happier than she’d felt in a long time.
Until he told her he wanted to keep her a secret.
So why had they married? Cassie didn’t fit into his lifestyle. She came from a poor family. Happy, but never financially comfortable. He was heir to the Sands family fortune. If he made it his mission to spend every dime of his fortune in his lifetime, it would be a difficult mission to accomplish.
So why had he wanted her?
It didn’t make sense.
Giving her curls one last tug, she stepped away from the mirror and headed downstairs.
Three stories. And she was on the top. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about a gym membership as long as she lived with Stephen.
Halfway down she smelled breakfast.
Which seemed strange, considering how large the house.
But oh, it smelled delectable. Cassie usually had a hurried cup of coffee and an apple for breakfast. She hadn’t had a real, sit-down breakfast in a long time.
The smells lead her toward the dining room where she saw a spread so grand it seemed almost ridiculous.
There sat Stephen.
Who looked sharp at the head of the table. He wore a slate-gray suit with a reflective royal purple tie and a crisp, white shirt. He sat transfixed by the paper and he took a sip of coffee without seeming to notice her presence. Pushing past the dread, she walked the length of the table and pulled out the chair next to his. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He nodded as he lay down his paper. Catching her eye he asked, “Did you sleep well?”
She smiled. Tensely, but politely. “Thank you, I did. And you?”
Abigail appeared at her elbow before he had a chance to answer. Probably saving Cassie an earful. “Coffee, Mrs. Sands?”
“Thank you, I would love a cup.”
Abigail went about preparing the beverage and Cassie reached for some scrambled eggs, a couple of strawberries and a piece of toast. “Are we expecting company?” she asked. It seemed like an awful lot of food. Cinnamon rolls, pancakes, oatmeal, cut fruit of every variety possible, muffins, scrambled eggs and a few things Cassie didn’t recognize.
Stephen quirked his brow. “No, should we be?”
“The food...”
He looked around the table, then toward Abigail. “It seems Abigail enjoyed cooking for more than just me this morning.”
Cassie looked at his plate. All he had was a piece of dry toast to go with his coffee. “Not exactly the breakfast of champions,” she quipped.
“Your coffee.”
Cassie glanced up at the housekeeper. “Thank you, Abigail. Breakfast looks wonderful. But it seems like a lot.”
The woman blushed and for a moment Cassie wondered if perhaps she’d embarrassed her.
“I didn’t know what you would want, and I wanted to make your first day pleasant.”
Now Cassie felt embarrassed. “Well this is wonderful, thank you.”
“That will be all, Abigail,” Stephen said.
Cassie shot him a dirty look as the woman left the room.
“Why did you dismiss her like that? That’s so rude.”
“How should I dismiss her?”
“Not at all. She could have sat with us, you know. There’s plenty of food.” Cassie took a bite of her scrambled eggs, which didn’t taste as good now that she had a sour taste in her mouth. She had to wash them down with a swig of coffee.
Stephen pushed his paper aside and brushed a few crumbs from his shirt. “That isn’t how it’s done, Cassie. We don’t dine with the help, that’s not how it’s done.”<
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Cassie didn’t think she liked how things were done in Stephen’s world. In her world, people didn’t have help. Or servants. Or housekeepers, even. If a neighborhood kid mowed your lawn, you offered him a glass of lemonade when he needed a break. And a twenty for his time.
She imagined that Stephen had a team of people who kept his lawns and gardens manicured. None had probably ever been offered any lemonade.
“She could have eaten with us,” she mumbled again.
He looked bemused. “Should I call her back?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No, I think you embarrassed her.”
“If anyone embarrassed her, it was you. Abigail is paid to perform a service. You making a big deal out of it might make her feel as if she has to put on a show every morning. Now, how are you going to feel when she starts doubling or tripling her normal workload just to please you? That doesn’t seem fair.”
Cassie had been chewing another bite of eggs, but now it wouldn’t go down. It felt like rubber in her mouth. She forcibly swallowed then said, “I didn’t mean anything.”
“I slept fine, thank you.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“That was quite the stunt you pulled last night. I expected you in my bed and to hear that I had intimacy issues really, well, I underestimated you, Cassie.”
It didn’t sound like a compliment. Lowering her voice so only Stephen could hear, she said, “I told you I won’t be sleeping with you.”
“You did warn me.”
She sat back in her seat, her appetite completely diminished. “I have to go to Just Desserts today. There are a few orders pending, I’ve got to plan winter’s menu, so I had better be...”
“No.”
“No?”
He shook his head and stood. “As of yesterday, you don’t work. It would seem odd for my wife to have a job.”
“Where do we live, the 1950’s?”
He bent a smile. “No, but you don’t need to work. If you had a lucrative career, or something that fit within our status, it would be fine, but you’re a baker. That doesn’t fit the image of a Sands wife. So please take the day to come up with other arrangements, someone else to run the shop, I don’t care. I’m sure Graciella would manage fine without you.”
Balling her fists, Cassie said, “That’s not going to happen. Bake? Is that all you think I do?”
“It will happen, and you will do as I ask. We are supposed to be husband and wife. If you think I’m going to let you ruin this by acting as if we aren’t married, you are mistaken. I’ve had Abigail arrange to get you a bank card today. You do not need money, Cassie. For you to keep your little business, to act as if you still need money...that would raise a lot of eyebrows.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll try to empty out your accounts?” she threw at him.
He laughed. Then smiled. “Cassie, you could try. But it would take you several lifetimes. Besides, your card has a daily limit. I make more in interest than your daily limit, so please, spend away.”
Good thing she’d changed her mind about bankrupting him.
Wouldn’t happen.
What about her business? He certainly didn’t seem to care how much her work meant to her, which made her ache. When they were seeing each other he’d always seemed to admire what she did. He spent all his free time, in fact, at her bakery. Still, appealing to his sentimentality didn’t seem as if it would work. Especially after she burned him last night. “Stephen, I can’t just abandon ship like that. I have to be professional about this. Do you really want word to get out that Stephen Sands’ wife didn’t finish out her obligations? All the weddings I have scheduled, all the catering events. I’ve got standing orders...I think that would go over worse than my working. Plus, if I quit these jobs mid-steam, I won’t have a leg to stand on once we get divorced.”
Completely ignoring her plea, he said, “Speaking of which, I will also send my attorney over today to sign a post-nuptial agreement. This is non-negotiable, so please be available when he arrives. I’ll fill out my part at the office. He should be here around three o’clock. Be ready.”
Teeth gritted, Cassie tried to remember this was for Annie. Still, if she’d known she would be losing the bakery either way, she’d have rather lost it on her terms than his. It only helped a little to remember that even then the money might not have been enough. She needed his pull. If she kept reminding herself this would save Annie, perhaps she could put up with anything Stephen threw her way. “Is there anything else you want for today?”
Besides, she didn’t have to close the bakery, just treat her absence as a vacation. Make sure the jobs got done by other means. Graciella had been working with her for almost as long as she’d been open anyway. And she was a good friend; Cassie could trust her.
“I would like you to move your things back into my room.”
She moved to speak.
“But,” he interrupted, “since I know that won’t be happening, I’d like for you to at least make an effort to look as if you’ve moved in. Abigail would never question me, but I have other staff who come by daily. Some not as loyal, I suspect. So please at least make an effort to seem as if you live here.”
She nodded. For Annie, whom, she suspected, would be waking up pretty soon. She’d wanted to tell Liz everything at her house, but it all went so horribly. And Liz was already so stressed with Annie it didn’t seem fair. So Cassie kept it to herself. Still, she needed to tell her something before the announcement of their marriage came out in the paper.
Stephen stood and walked to the dining room entrance. “Cassie, this doesn’t have to be a horrible arrangement. We got along, once. We can surely treat each other as adults and get along now. Don’t you agree?”
She nodded. Not that she agreed, but it seemed pointless to argue. She followed him out of the dining room and watched as he pulled his suit jacket on for the day. He seemed taller. Or perhaps Cassie just imagined him as such. She loved the lines around the corners of his eyes. He may not smile much that she saw, but he’d earned those lines at some point.
Maybe she should give in. Maybe she should just accept that this reality—as bizarre as it was—would be hers for as long as it took. And if she’d just accept it, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.
He picked up his briefcase and adjusted the sleeve on his jacket. “Well?” he asked.
“Well?”
He stood by the door. The kiss. Damn, how had she forgotten about the front door kiss? She’d even anticipated this. She looked around. “I don’t see Abigail anywhere, so well what?”
He took a step toward her. Leaning in close, he said, “Just because you don’t see anyone around, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
Their lips touched. Lightly, this time. Brief. He stepped away.
Somehow the brevity shook Cassie more then their passionate kisses from the day before.
“Have a good day, Cassandra.” With that, he was gone.
And Cassie found herself rubbing the tips of her fingers across her lips. They wanted more. They seemed to have swollen in anticipation of more. That light, feathery brush kiss was not enough.
Damn, Stephen Sands! Why did he have to be so infuriating?
Pursing her irritated lips, she turned on a heel and headed toward the kitchen. It seemed a shame to waste that much food, and Cassie knew just what to do with it.
Chapter Six
The drive to the office seemed longer than normal. A lot longer. Every bit of his reflexes wanted to turn the car around and get a better kiss from his wife.
Still, her confused look at the front door had made his own torture almost worth it.
Almost.
He’d think about her all day. Which would make the nine hours he’d planned to stay seem much too long. Maybe he could take off early?
No, he’d never been that irresponsible. Well, once. Their Vegas trip. But after that, never. God, Cassie still made him feel like a love-struck little boy. She walked in that morning with that cur
ly auburn hair flowing around her shoulders. He’d seen the glow of her green eyes as she stood uncertain in the doorway, and it took all his willpower not to look up from his paper and draw her in. She’d worn a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into her tight blue jeans.
He’d never wanted to call in sick so much before in his life.
Their kiss at the door was part of his new plan.
Revenge could take many forms. Cassie, whether she knew it or not, was a passionate, sensual woman. He’d been reminded of that yesterday in his office. And again later, in his room—of the way she couldn’t control herself when their lips melded. The soft curve of her bottom beneath his hands, the way her hips cradled against his as if they belonged there.
Her sounds, whether she’d noticed them or not, were those of a woman who enjoyed being kissed. And her lips, soft, full, moist against his, needed to be kissed.
With all that in mind, the idea of not having sex with Cassie tightened his groin even more. But, revenge, as he knew, came in many forms.
A woman like Cassie was made to be kissed. Made to be loved. They would have sex, Stephen had promised her that much, but he would make her beg.
And that’s when he would end it.
Not that it was about the sex, that was certain. It was about making her want him. And he would be the one walking away this time.
He pulled into his parking spot in front of the building and turned off the ignition.
He’d loved Cassie once upon a time. He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, wanted to watch them grow old together. And she’d run away.
Now, he’d make her love him. Make her want him in the deepest possible way, then show her how much love could hurt.
Pocketing his keys, and stepping out of the car with a deeper sense of purpose. Simple revenge was not enough for a woman like Cassie. He had to make her pay.
Inside the building, he took the stairs up to his fourth floor office. Gayle, among others, believed he took the stairs for fitness. Truth was, Stephen hated elevators. He’d stop short of saying they terrified him, but only because Sands men didn’t feel terrified.
Once in his early twenties he’d gotten stuck in an elevator for five hours. It jolted to a stop between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth floor of his father’s downtown office. The emergency button sent clanging alarms through the elevator car, but Stephen had a sneaking suspicion the alarms could only be heard by him. After speaking into the red emergency phone, he’d waited. A little less than an hour in the fire department arrived and assured him things would be okay.
