Reilly's Promise

by Christyne Butler

  “This house has been in the Carrington family for years. My mother started bringing me and Rann here for the summer when we were little. We came every year, June through Labor Day, until I was sixteen.”

  She struggled to process what he was telling her despite the wild roaring that still echoed in her head. “Sixteen?”

  “My stepfather decided I needed to earn my keep,” Reilly continued. “I went to work in the oil fields that summer, and the two summers afterwards until I graduated from high school. Then, like I told you last night, I joined the Marines.”

  His gaze remained steady as he spoke. She, on the other hand, felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of her world. She sank into the nearby sofa. “I can’t believe this. This was a set up. Ranndolph Carrington couldn’t care less if I redid this place. This has nothing to do with my work or my shop—”

  “In the beginning, no.” Reilly lowered himself next to her. “I needed to get you out of town for your own safety. I thought of Heaven’s Gate and called Rann.”

  “Heaven’s Gate?”

  “It’s the name of the house.”

  And it fit perfectly, Cassandra thought, unable to stop herself from looking around the house that had captured her heart. A way in, an entry to a tiny slice of paradise on earth.

  “But now…” Reilly’s voice trailed off for a moment before he continued. “I want you to go ahead with your work here.”

  “Why? What do you care?” Cassandra jumped to her feet. “This isn’t your house.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Her world tilted, then came to a sudden and complete stop. “What?”

  “The house is mine. My mother left it to me in her will.”

  “Yours?” The word rushed out of her mouth in a whisper. “All of this is yours?”

  Reilly nodded and Cassandra released a sarcastic burst of laughter. It was either that or she’d disintegrate into tears. “Of course it is. You’re Stephanie Carrington’s son. What else did she leave you? Stocks? Bonds? More homes, more land—”

  Eyes narrowed, Reilly rose. “How’d you know my mother’s name?”

  “My father might’ve never met the great Ranndolph Carrington, but he certainly knew his millionaires. Your stepfather was the richest oilman in the country. That makes you—how did you put it—rich, single and beautiful?”

  Cassandra marched over to the small table where she’d laid her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She punched a few buttons and put the phone to her ear.

  “Who are you calling?” Reilly said.

  “Go to hell—hello…yes, Ranndolph Carrington, please. This is Cassandra Van Winter calling.”

  Reilly rose from the couch. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking your story.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  Cassandra offered a single raised eyebrow in response before she looked away. “Mr. Carrington…hello, Cassandra Van Winter here. The interior designer you hired? Yes…well, I’m here with your brother, Reilly—”

  “Half brother,” Reilly cut in.

  She turned to face him again. “Hmmm, your brother just said the same thing. I guess at least that part of his story is true. I need to know if Reilly called and asked you to contact me about redecorating this house…and this is his house?”

  Cassandra closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. This can’t be happening, it can’t be! “I see. I know this next question is a bit rude, but it’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”

  Her eyes snapped open and her gaze landed squarely on Reilly’s face. “What’s that? I can ‘shoot’? Don’t tempt me.”

  Reilly took a step toward her. “Cassandra…”

  “Oh, you mean I can ask my question.” She held out her hand, and backed away. “Okay, does Reilly own any holdings in RannCarr Oil? Oh, I realize that’s a personal question…a round figure will work fine for me…”

  Ranndolph Carrington’s smooth voice rang in her ears as he named a sum that made her stomach drop to her feet. She stared at her bodyguard. Damn him.

  “Really? That much?” Her throat was tight, but she forced the words. “Well, thank you, Mr. Carrington, you’ve been most helpful. No, I won’t be taking this job after all…right now I don’t really care what your brother, oh excuse me, your half brother, might have known or not.”

  Cassandra snapped the phone shut. “You bastard.”

  Reilly’s jaw tightened into a hard line. “Not the first time I’ve been called that.”

  “You lied to me! You’ve made snide remarks all along about my family being rich when in fact, you’re worth millions.”

  “I didn’t know—”

  “Save it, Murdock, I don’t want to hear it.” Cassandra let out a humorless laugh. “What’s that cliché’? The pot calling the kettle black? This is just so ironic! You walk around with a chip on your shoulder, looking down your nose at me, my family, at Willard. When the whole time you grew up richer than we did. No wonder you looked so comfortable in a tuxedo, dance like a dream and know all those languages. It’s amazing what a proper upbringing can teach a person.”

  “You have no idea how I was raised.” His voice was low and he spat out the words. “Or who I am now.”

  “I could say the same thing to you,” she shot back, the tears she fought to control overtaking her voice. “Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to tell—wanted to share—”

  The beeping of her cell phone cut off her words. She flipped it open again. “Hello? Rosa? Rosa, slow down. I can’t understand you. What? Mom’s flying home? Why…how? We can’t—Rosa, please calm down.”

  Reilly grabbed the phone from her fingers. “Rosa? This is Reilly Murdock. I need you to take a deep breath…respire profundamente…in through your nose. Bueno.”

  “Give me that,” Cassandra cried.

  Reilly ignored her and kept talking. “Now, slowly let it out. Okay, tell me what’s wrong.” He clamped his mouth, a muscle ticking along his jaw. “Lily’s in the hospital?”

  “What?” Cassandra shrieked, snatching at the phone.

  Reilly held her off with one hand. Cassandra clung to the strength of his powerful grasp, hating herself for doing so. “Is she okay? What happened?”

  Reilly didn’t answer, his only response the hardening of his jawline. “Okay, we’re coming back. We’ll take the first plane we can get off the island. No, I’m sure Cassandra is going to want to go to the hospital first, but we’ll call when we land.”

  “What’s going on?” Cassandra demanded. “Why is Lily in the hospital? Did something happen at the store?”

  “Yes, Lily was hurt at the store. Rosa didn’t have a lot of the details, but Cass, honey, there’s more—”

  “Just tell me!”

  “It’s Willard. He’s dead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A cold wind blew through the cemetery. Cassandra shuddered and burrowed deeper into the upturned collar of her coat. She looked up at the cluster of clouds suspended over the crowd of people gathered around the flower-draped coffin.

  Thanks to a two-day torrent of rain that had only ended this morning, her heels sank into the soft earth where she stood at Willard’s gravesite. Her mother clung to her, both choosing to stand instead of sitting with Willard’s family as asked.

  The scene before her hit too close to home.

  She and her mother, just over six months ago in this same cemetery, in front of two polished coffins, each draped in a cascade of red roses. They had first buried her father and then two days later, her aunt. She and her mother had found out the morning of her father’s funeral about the financial state of their family, and Cassandra hadn’t known if their tears were from grief or anger at what her father had done to them.

  But now, her mother’s composure and glow showed just how much she had moved on.

  Her mother was in love.

  Last night they had talked into the wee hours of the morning. Cassandra had been shocked t
o find out her mother had known all along about her father’s affair with his former sister-in-law. She then told Cassandra of an old love who’d come back into her life after he’d learned she’d become a widow. Her mother spoke of how their relationship had first started many years ago, but ended when she was in college. Now, they’d spent the last few months falling in love again despite his ongoing battle with cancer. She then begged for Cassandra’s blessing.

  How could she refuse?

  When she’d learned Louis DiMarrio was a former Marine who’d once served with Reilly, and in fact, was the one who’d called in a favor in order to get Reilly to the city, she’d managed to hide the tears until she was alone. The fact her mother had found love while her own heart was breaking filled her with such anguish. It tore at her insides and she’d cried until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

  Cassandra forced back the fresh sting of tears. “No,” she whispered. “There can’t be any left inside of me. There can’t be.”

  Looking out over the crowd, she found herself wishing the priest would hurry and finish. A movement on the far side of the cemetery section caught her eye.

  Reilly.

  He slowly walked across the grass, several feet from the crowd. He paused to glance at each car in the long line of limousines and town cars before moving on. In a dark suit and matching trench coat, he looked powerful and menacing. Her heart pounded and her breath caught in the back of her throat.

  Damn him and her body for continuing to react to him.

  She’d had to face that fact when she’d come downstairs this morning at her mother’s house to find him waiting for her in the front foyer. Their eyes had met on the top step and she hated that she hadn’t been able to look away for the remaining twenty-nine.

  It was the first time she’d looked directly at him since they’d boarded the small commuter jet he’d chartered to get the two of them off Nantucket. The news of Willard’s death had numbed her, the frozen walls of her prison erected again immediately. Returning to the inn, packing and getting to the airport was a blur. Once seated, he’d tried to talk to her, but she’d cut him off, telling him she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say ever again.

  He’d done as she asked and remained silent.

  Since returning to New York, she’d spent most of the last three days either at the hospital, the Bancrofts’ or alone in her old room at her mother’s home. She’d had little contact with Reilly. But he was always there. A strong, quiet presence never far away.

  When she’d insisted on going to the hospital from the airport, he’d waited outside while doctors explained Lily’s unconscious condition. They’d run into the police on their way out, who’d requested she come down to the station. For over an hour Detective Griffin had filled them in on the gruesome details of the discovery of Lily and Willard by an early morning customer, lying in a pool of Willard’s blood.

  The police were working on the suspicion the publicity over the Czar’s necklace had led to a failed robbery attempt. Cassandra, forced to pull the necklace from the auction, still retained possession of it, but it lay useless in a Sotheby’s vault. Until the investigation was wrapped up, she couldn’t sell it.

  Later, at the Bancroft mansion, Reilly blended into the background while she tried to comfort Willard’s inconsolable mother and stay clear of Edwin Bancroft who remained locked in his private study. When she decided to stay at her mother’s for a few days, Reilly waited for her while she packed her bags.

  And he never said a word.

  At least not to her.

  That suits me just fine, Cassandra thought. She pulled herself back from the events of the last few days. The less Reilly spoke, the less chance he’d lie to her again. Why were the men in her life incapable of telling the truth? Was she a magnet for liars?

  In a matter of minutes she’d found out her childhood friend and the man she lov—correction, thought she was falling for—had both lied to her. Over real estate, no less. The secrets of Willard’s penthouse and Reilly’s actually owning the beachfront house represented such a large part of who these men were, she’d come to realize she didn’t know either as well as she’d foolishly believed.

  But then again, look at where’d she’d gotten her education. From the most deceitful man of all, her father.

  Reilly had been right. Being Steven Van Winter’s daughter had meant she was raised a princess. Teenage rebellion hadn’t hit her until she was in college, and even then she’d been blind to any faults her father might have had. She’d adored her dad and thought he could do no wrong. All that had ended when she found out about his affair.

  She’d never explained why she’d moved out so suddenly. Her mother had fully supported the idea, claiming she wanted her daughter to experience independence. It was only now she’d learned her mother had been trying to protect her from what was happening right in her own home.

  Her relationship with her father had never been the same after that. When the house of deception and lies he’d built to cover his gambling addition came tumbling down around her mother at his death, Cassandra had been forced into her own web of trickery and dishonesty.

  The moment Reilly had admitted his ruse, a sharp pain lanced through her. It was now a full-blown ache that filled her with so much hurt it took every ounce of her strength to draw a breath. The sting of her father’s cheating had been unbearable, but it’d finally shrunk to a dull throbbing in the corner of her heart.

  With each of the countless men who’d dated her only to get close to the Van Winter fortune, she’d cut herself off a little bit more from feeling any emotion. She’d devoted herself to her mother’s charity foundation first and then to the shop, unable to think about getting involved with a man.

  Until Reilly. Until she’d relented and let him in. Now, his lies were killing her.

  His lies or hers?

  She didn’t even know anymore. She shivered. The ice wall was back. Firmly wrapped around her heart and her soul.

  The priest finished his remarks and bent low to speak with Willard’s parents. The mourners began to disperse into small groups and headed to their cars.

  “Darling, I’m going to return home now.”

  Cassandra turned toward her mother. “I thought you were going with me to the reception?”

  Margaret Van Winter sighed. “I’m just not up to it.”

  “Do you want me to go home with you?”

  “No, you go on alone—”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Reilly was standing so close to her, Cassandra could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck. She turned to face him, her heels again sinking into the soft earth, and she stumbled. His hands shot out, but she righted herself and managed to avoid his touch.

  Her gaze locked onto the snowy white cuffs sticking out from his coat sleeves, so white against the tanned skin of his hands. Hands that only a few days ago had caressed her skin with a tenderness she’d never forget.

  Forcing herself to take a step back, Cassandra hated that she had to clear her throat before she spoke. “You don’t have a say in this matter.”

  “Cassandra—”

  “You’re fired, Mr. Murdock. There is no longer any need for your services.”

  He didn’t even flinch.

  “Cassandra!” her mother cried. “How can you say that with Willard dead and Lily lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life? If Reilly hadn’t taken you to Nantucket, it might’ve been you we were burying today!”

  “I don’t—” Cassandra forced herself to keep her eyes on her mother’s face. “I don’t want to talk about Nantucket.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that quite clear over the last few days, but it still doesn’t change the fact someone is out to hurt you.” Margaret’s fingers tightened on the lacy handkerchief she carried. “You need Reilly—”

  “Don’t worry, Margaret,” Reilly interrupted her, his eyes focused on Cassandra, the look on his face matching honed
granite. “No matter what your daughter says, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Cassandra bit into her bottom lip to keep from responding. Finally, she relented. “Take the car, Mom. I’ll get a ride with someone else and see you at home later.”

  “Are you sure, dear?”

  Wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders, Cassandra gave her a quick hug, holding on for a few moments before she released her. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  Her mother gave Reilly a side glance before she silently headed for the silver town car Cassandra had rented for the day. After she watched her mother get safely inside, Cassandra turned toward the black limo parked behind the dark hearse.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked when Reilly fell into step next to her.

  “Wherever you are.”

  “I already told you, Mr. Murdock—”

  “Cut the ‘mister’ crap, princess. You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

  Cassandra stopped and turned to face him. “Princess? Gee, I guess I can call you ‘your highness’ now, can’t I? If that’s what you really think of me, you don’t know me at all.”

  “I know you better than you think.”

  “Why? Because we had sex?” Cassandra started walking again. “So I’m an easy lay. That doesn’t get—”

  “Don’t say that.” Reilly grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Damn it, it wasn’t just sex.”

  Cassandra pulled free of his tight grasp. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare call what we did making love. You lied to me, but hell, I’ve been doing the same thing. I guess we can just call it even.”

  “Cassandra, you have to listen to me—”

  A gust of wind caught the loose tresses of her curls and blew them across her face. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Fine, don’t listen, but I’m not going to stop protecting you. Someone could still be out to hurt you. And what do you mean by ‘we’re even’?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.” Cassandra crossed her arms tightly over her middle. “I don’t have the necklace…I mean, I have it, but I can’t do anything with it. With Willard’s death splashed all over the newspapers everyone thinks someone was trying to rob the shop. Willard and Lily got in the way of whoever wanted the necklace—” Her voice broke into a sob. “A necklace I purposely wore to attract—to attract attention…and now Willard is dead.”