Masters for Life

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Masters for Life Page 17

by Ginger Voight


  “Did you ever think you’d be planning for a baby within a few months of meeting me?” I giggled as I traced little circles across his massive chest.

  “No,” he admitted with a chuckle of his own. “I hadn’t thought about children in a long time,” he admitted. I glanced up at him.

  “You’ve wanted children before?”

  He gathered me close. “Once.”

  I wanted to ask him who and when, but I was afraid to broach such a tender topic, especially while we were doing so well with everything else. “So you’ve been in love before?”

  “I thought I was,” he admitted at last. “When she missed a period, I thought for sure that was fate telling us we could have it all, even though every moment we had was stolen. She was married,” he confessed.

  In an instant, I knew he meant Suzanne. He didn’t even have to confirm. “What happened?”

  He sighed. “Ultimately there was no baby. But it was the scare she needed to put an end to our affair, before it seriously complicated everything for her.”

  “You must have been heartbroken.”

  Again he nodded. “I was thinking this was the thing that would finally allow us to be together. Instead she decided it was the thing that proved we should be apart. She never wanted kids. She never really wanted the love I offered, just the fun. I could never be here with her like this, dreaming about the future, talking about a family. Anytime anything got too serious, she was ready to fly right out the door, right back to her cushy, pampered life, and whatever man could pay her the most attention.”

  I could tell by the edge in his voice he was still pretty bitter about it. “And you worried that was what I might do when I wouldn’t even talk about babies or the future of our family.”

  He sighed as he gathered me closer. “There was a time when I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved her. Then I met you. I see our future in your eyes, Coralie. All the years we’d share, the business we’d run, the home we’d create. I see our children,” he added softly, his eyes locked with mine. “My future was a bunch of blank pages before. But it has filled in with all this color now. I see every picture and every frame. If I lost you,” he started, but the tremor throughout his body silenced him.

  I held him close. “You’re never going to lose me, Devlin,” I promised.

  He absently brushed his thumb over my wedding rings. It reminded me of his urgency to marry me quickly, to stake his claim before I disappeared back into the ether like all of his other clients. It was why he was just as excited to conceive our first child quickly like I was. He knew better than to take it for granted.

  What we had was special. And we were going to fortify it however we could.

  We were also going to protect it however we could.

  That Monday, we arranged a small fashion show for my father, to present Darcy’s designs to him at last. Darcy was shy as she met my imposing father, which somehow managed to soften him. Even if he thought Devlin had manipulated him, it was easy to tell that Darcy was an innocent, someone meek and humble and grateful to even have a shot. There was something wounded in her, something that needed to be protected. In equal measure was the flickering light we could all see trying to catch, which needed kindness to nurture.

  Father seemed to understand that almost immediately, as did Oliver, oddly.

  I was afraid how they would regard her due to her size, given that’s always been such an iffy spot with them. But both welcomed her warmly and gently, talking with her about the practicality of her designs, trying to understand what she knew about the female form that many all of our current designers didn’t.

  It took her few minutes to find her voice. Only when it appeared that Father was listening did she confide in using the right fabrics, as well as the more flattering necklines and waistlines, and what made them flattering.

  Father surprised us all when he informed her that he wanted exclusive rights to her designs, starting with a wedding dress he wanted her to design for us. “I was thinking a New Year’s Eve wedding,” he said as he looked at Dev and me.

  I made quick calculations in my head. I’d be in my second trimester at that point, so it could work. Per my online calculator, I wouldn’t even show until mid-November, and I knew that Darcy could perform wonders with a wedding dress that would conceal any baby bump if we decided to wait until the reception to officially announce our baby news.

  Couldn’t get more perfect than that.

  So I happily agreed to a “real” wedding in our family church on December 31st, and Darcy went right to work on what kind of dress she would design for me. I suggested an A-line dress with an empire waistline, just to be on the safe side.

  I truly didn’t anticipate any problems getting pregnant. This was what I wanted now, more than anything, and I was going to make it happen.

  Considering I was married to the man of my dreams and my store had finally signed a designer who could produce the kinds of clothes I wanted to wear, I felt unstoppable.

  Our biggest fly in the ointment was Caz Bixby, but I figured I could take care of him too. I met him for our first workout that Wednesday, at the gym near our store. I wanted the privacy of our home gym, or the gym at our apartment, but Dev was adamant. He didn’t trust Caz as far as he could throw him, so he wanted to minimize any opportunities Caz might have taken to get me alone.

  Personally I figured that was all part of the plan. As long as he felt he could manipulate me, he’d stay the hell away from Father. I just had to keep him safely distracted until after we got back from France. By then I would be pregnant, and I knew my conventional father would never condone our divorcing after that. No matter what was revealed about Devlin, my father would suck it up and accept it for the sake of his grandchildren. He’d even move heaven and earth to protect Devlin’s dirty little secrets, simply to protect his heirs.

  Nothing mattered more to my father than legacy. After August, all of Caz’s threats would be moot. And I was pretty confident I could hold him off until then.

  I arrived at the gym early and changed into my workout clothes. Caz was late, likely a power play, but I remained easy-going, even after he showed up and suggested we get out of that old stuffy gym and do something a little more ‘exciting.’

  I glanced him over in his shorts and muscle shirt, which showed off dramatic tattoos on either arm, hinting this man could walk the line between bad boy and elite companion every bit as well as Devlin himself. That was his job, and from the looks of it he was very good at it.

  I knew Dev would kill me but I followed Caz out to his sleek sports car, which he helped me into before trotting around to the driver’s side. As soon as he got in, I sent him a wry glance. “You’re not going to take me out to the middle of nowhere and leave me for dead, are you?”

  He chuckled. “No, but after our workout today, you might wish I had.”

  “Ah. So you’re a sadist, then.”

  He slid me a cool glance. “I have my moments. But you’ll thank me for it when you see the results.”

  “Well, you have about six months to whip me into shape. My official, Father-approved wedding is now scheduled for December 31st.”

  Of course, I didn’t plan to be shackled with this guy beyond the end of August, when I returned home from Châlons-en-Champagne hopefully pregnant with Devlin’s child. But he didn’t need to know that.

  “A lot can change in six months,” he agreed with a slight nod of his head. I could only hope he was right.

  “So how are things going with Margot?” I asked, figuring that I’d let him think they were merely dating, rather than conducting a business arrangement.

  “She’s a beautiful, exciting lady,” he conceded with another nod. “We’re having a lot of fun. Her daughter sure is a pill, though.”

  I laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Not sure if I’d trust her alone with your husband,” he commented casually as he easily navigated the car through mid-afternoon traffic.


  This is where his innocent offer to help whip me into shape gave way to his true motive: giving me reason to distrust my husband. My only job was to play along. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “She’s a beautiful girl who knows how to get what she wants. And I get the feeling what she really wants is to watch the world burn. She’s going to test every single boundary, which is why she’s going to use these bogus piano lessons to get close to her cousin’s hot new husband, just to see how far she can push the envelope of propriety.”

  It surprised me that he was more worried about Aubrey than Devlin himself, considering this would be the prime opportunity to plant those seeds of doubt. “I trust my husband,” I said, to subtly goad him, just to see what he’d say.

  “It’s a mistake to trust any man,” Caz said. “When it all comes down to it, we’re just a very simplistic creatures motivated by primal urges.”

  “Not exactly a ringing endorsement for me to be alone with you in your car, being transported to places unknown,” I pointed out.

  Again he chuckled. “Touché.”

  After a silent moment passed, I asked, “Can I trust you, Caz?”

  He turned to me, his eyes traveling over my face and down to my chest. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  His answer took me by surprise. It also made me huddle practically into a ball in the passenger seat as he drove us straight for the beach in Santa Monica. I wasn’t sure what he had planned for me until he headed right for the bike rental shop. “Riding bikes at the beach?” I queried. “That’s your strenuous workout plan?”

  He smiled. “For now. We’re going to get you nice and comfortable in that pot before I turn up the heat and boil the water.”

  I scowled. “Thanks for the warning.”

  ‘You’re quite welcome,” he said with a smile.

  We got our bikes and set off south towards Venice, using the bike pathway that meandered lazily beside the sand up and down the beach. He kept a brisk pace, so I had to work to keep up with him. He decided to keep me otherwise occupied, talking about my upcoming wedding.

  “What does a bride wear when she cannot wear white?” he mused.

  I shrugged. “I can wear any color I choose to, even white if I wanted.”

  “Rebel,” he grinned at me. It made me laugh. If only he knew.

  Oh wait. He already did.

  “So how many clients have you had to train to get ready for a wedding?”

  He shrugged. “A few, not many. My clients tend to be a little older, more business-minded. They don’t have time really to date, much less marry. They cashed in their dreams of happily ever after on security of knowing they can take care of themselves. Everything they do with me is an extension of that.”

  It was surprisingly an honest answer, given that he probably didn’t think I knew what he did for a living. But maybe that was part of the point. Dev’s words of caution rang in my ears.

  “Whatever he says, you mustn’t believe him, Coralie. Even when he speaks the truth, he does it for a dishonest reason. You understand?”

  “So you don’t have any happily married clients, I take it?”

  “If they were truly happy, they wouldn’t need me, would they?” That gave me pause. “Look at you. Even with your new marriage and all your money, you’re still unsatisfied.”

  I bristled immediately. “That’s not true.”

  “Then why are you here with me, Coralie?” he asked softly.

  “I prefer you call me CC,” was my icy reply.

  He didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Whatever you say. CC.”

  “I am happy,” I informed him.

  “Okay,” he replied, with that same amused smirk. It wasn’t sexy, like Dev’s smirk had always been. Instead it suggested he was an unapologetic asshole, who got great amusement at other people’s expense. I didn’t understand this mentality.

  I turned the tables on him. “Are you happy?”

  He shot me a glance, as if he really wasn’t expecting that question. As if he had never really been asked that before. “Of course I’m happy. I have a great job. Great friends.”

  “Do you?” I questioned in a softer voice. “Or are you just playing the game, just like everyone else?”

  He pulled off to the side, sliding off of his bike and parking it by a palm tree. “Happiness doesn’t just happen, CC. You make it happen. I decide to be happy with my job and my friends, so I am.” He glanced me over. “Get off the bike. We’re going to do some stretches.”

  I didn’t put up a fight as I got off of my bike and parked it by his, then joined him in the sand. I mirrored his movements as the waves crashed against the shore behind us. He circled me, eyeing me critically so he could know just where to plan his attack. “You’re in pretty good physical shape,” he conceded at last. “Definitely top-heavy though. Have you ever considered surgery to balance your figure?”

  I glared at him. “My husband likes that I’m top-heavy.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. I guess he would.”

  I stood up straight. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He circled me even closer. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve known Devvy for quite a while? Years in fact. I know him better than anyone. Even his sister. Even you,” he added softly as he leaned towards me.

  “I’d say you were deluding yourself,” I answered with a defiant tip of my chin.

  He chuckled. “I see you’ve opted to stay clueless and happy. His suggestion, no doubt. But, given I actually know the truth, I can’t really say I blame you.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “Just say what you’re going to say and be done with it, Caz.”

  “You’re sweet. I’ll give you that. It’s easier to buy the fairytale than question fate a little too closely. But believe me when I say that nothing happens accidentally. There is no such thing as serendipity, not in your world. Things don’t just happen by chance. There’s too much on the line.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest and waited. Finally he tore off the bandage.

  “There’s a reason that Devlin Masters is with you, and it has dick to do with love. He’s a hustler, CC. Always has been. Always will be.”

  “And you know this because…?”

  “I’m a hustler, too,” he admitted with zero shame. “Deep down, we all are.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”

  He stepped closer. “Then believe this. Devlin Masters sleeps with women for money. And that hasn’t changed just because you put a wedding ring on his finger.”

  My heart dropped. As much as I knew better than to believe these words, they hurt all the same. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Coralie,” he said softly as he stepped even closer, to run a finger along my arm. “I was there when your email came through to the agency. I know that you hired Devlin to fuck you.”

  I gasped and backed up a step. He closed the new gap between us easily.

  “You should have seen how the office lit up when we got your email. Coralie Cabot, the one heiress to a fashion dynasty. Devlin had at least three dates booked for that Saturday, and he scrambled to dump them all just to make room for you.” He leaned forward. “Haven’t you ever wondered why that particular guy was free on that particular day?”

  I gulped hard. He continued.

  “It all seemed a little too perfect, didn’t it, sweetheart? You didn’t question it. You thought it was magic. But don’t you find it the teeniest bit coincidental that he just so happened to have a clothing designer for a sister?” He paused just to let what he was suggesting sink in. “Same hourly rate for the same kind of clients. What made you so special if it wasn’t for your last name? Why take such a loss, if he wasn’t expecting one hell of a gain?”

  “So you’re saying he married me to get to Cabot’s,” I surmised.

  He shrugged. “It’s only been a month and already he’s an executive, who is likely sliding his sister right i
nto place. He probably even made it seem like it was your idea.”

  “Why would he do such a thing? Why marry me if he didn’t love me? He didn’t have to.” I thought about the hundred thousand I had given Darcy, days before Devlin ever put a ring on my finger. “He could have had it all without having to marry me.”

  Caz chuckled. “That might be true if all he wanted was money.”

  “So what does he want?” I asked at last.

  “Revenge,” Caz stated simply.

  I shook my head and started for the bike, but Caz pulled me back by the arm. “He hates rich people, CC. He has ever since Suzanne Everhart fucked him over in Vegas. God, she was a first class bitch. She played his heart like a fiddle and now he makes every rich woman pay for her mistakes. Literally,” he added. “You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.”

  Again I tipped my chin. “I’m the first he married,” I stated.

  “Maybe because you’re the first one dumb enough to do it,” he countered. I tried to pull my arm away but he held me fast. “Think about it, CC. You paid $25,000 for one week with him, and he came back to town with one-half of your entire estate. Talk about winning big in Vegas.”

  I tried again to pull my arm free. “You’re just full of theories, aren’t you? And just what do you want out of the deal?”

  “Simple. I want $10,000 per week until I get you to your New Year’s Eve wedding, then I disappear from your life forever. You can have your happily ever after, since it means so much to you. But I guarantee it won’t last. He’ll be gone by January 1st.”

  I thought about all our plans to have a baby. I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”

  “It’s been known to happen,” he shrugged. “But I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is. You don’t have to pay me one thin dime until January 1st. I’ll keep your secrets. You’ll keep mine. And when January 1st comes, and you’re all alone, we’ll have one date, you and me, where you’ll pay me every single dime you owe because Devlin Masters will be out of your life for good. You don’t even have to fuck me,” he offered, magnanimously. “But you will, because you’ll want to make Devlin pay for breaking his promises to you. What better way than fuck the guy he hates?”

 

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