I thought about that first day at Cabot’s after Dev and I got back from Vegas, when he got crazed over Oliver.
“I waited my whole life for you, and I’m not going to lose you because some rich, entitled asshole decides he now wants to stake a claim. He can’t have you. You’re mine.”
Was that where it all stemmed from, all this anger and possessiveness? Had that insecurity taken root all those years ago, when Suzanne flouted Caz under his nose? Knowing what I knew of her, I had no doubt that she rubbed Dev’s nose in it the fact that Caz came from money and Dev didn’t, since that was where he was most vulnerable.
There was also that day he told me he didn’t buy my ‘poor little rich girl’ act.
“You have more opportunity and privilege than over ninety percent of the country, but because you don’t get to stamp your name on a project and collect your gold star, I’m supposed to feel sorry for you. Sorry, sweetheart. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
And of course, there were Caz’s own words…
“He hates rich people, CC. He has ever since Suzanne Everhart fucked him over in Vegas.”
I looked back at Caz. “If I give you a job at Cabot’s, what would you want to do?”
“Become rich and famous,” he grinned.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I mean, you do realize what a goldmine you’re sitting on here, right? Look at you, CC. You have turned into a real fucking stunner. Put me in some exclusive workout gear and use me in all your ads. A sort of, ‘Excellence over Perfection,’ kind of message, where I could be surrounded by a variety of models in various shapes and sizes. Hell, I could still be your personal trainer. With a killer before-and-after like yours as an endorsement, I’ll have work all over this city.”
I pursed my lips as I considered what he was proposing. He was right. That would likely be a very successful campaign. Everyone but everyone always asked how I had gone from a ‘frumpy’ 14 to an ‘exceptional’ 8 in six months. His grueling weekly workouts were a cornerstone to that success. Not only were they brutal and intensive, lasting anywhere from 90 minutes to two hours at a stretch, his training program had me doing daily laps in the pool or working the punching bag the other six days of the week he wasn’t around. He was a task master that demanded, and got, results.
In this town especially those skills would be in hot demand.
“What about Darcy?” I asked. I didn’t want him anywhere near her, not knowing what I knew.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to want to have any contact either. “You’re the one they keep pushing as the face of Youniquely Cabot, not her. She doesn’t design menswear. She’s never in L.A. at all, and Dev doesn’t have anything to do with these campaigns anymore. I can’t see why that would be a problem.”
That week, however, would prove Caz very wrong.
Father was open to our sales pitch, especially given the success of Youniquely Cabot. Oliver, likewise, saw the potential in our plan, and we went immediately to work putting it all together. Even though Caz had technically been my Aunt Margot’s boy toy, the work he had done as my personal trainer spoke for itself. His living arrangements would have never been an issue had Devlin not called an emergency meeting with us that Wednesday, with Suzanne right at his side, to express their “concerns” with making someone like Caz Bixby such a prominent feature of Youniquely Cabot.
“I don’t want to tell you your business, Charles,” Suzanne purred. “But Caz has worked for me in the past, so I know a little bit about his background. Perhaps it’s not my place to bring it up, but he’s a bit of a hustler. He likes to find and date rich women, milking him of their fortunes while living a rather… alternative lifestyle. I mean, honestly. Wasn’t he dating Margot mere months ago? And now he and CC…,” she trailed off, so my father could connect the dots on his own.
He turned to face me. “Are you dating this man, CC?”
“It’s not like that,” I promised.
“No?” Devlin piped up. “Then perhaps you can tell us where he’s living at this current time.”
I slid him a cold glare. “He’s staying with me,” I admitted.
“Coralie,” Father reproached under his breath.
“There was a time in my life where he was my only friend,” I said, glaring at Devlin. “I’m not going to kick him to the curb when he needs one.” I turned back to my father. “And his past isn’t unsavory, Dad. His last name is Gaboury.”
I let that little nugget sit for a second. I knew he’d not only recognize the famous last name, but that it was also French.
Heritage was a big thing for my father.
Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Dev’s eyes narrow. I knew that by telling Father Caz’s real name, it implied an intimacy between Caz and me that even Dev could not ignore.
“Yes, he does come from a prominent family,” Suzanne confirmed with a curt nod. “But they are currently estranged. Dreadful thing, really. He crashed and burned his first year at Princeton, before dropping out. He eventually headed to Las Vegas to work for me. Among other things.”
“What other things?” Father wanted to know
Just as she opened her mouth, I said, “Overture.”
Both Dev and Suzanne snapped their heads around to gape at me.
“What?” Father asked.
“Overture,” I repeated. “The instrumental part at the beginning of an opera.”
“I know what it means,” Father snapped.
“So do they,” I said, my eyes locked on Suzanne and Devlin. “You’re more than welcome to drop Youniquely Cabot if you think it may conflict with the brand you’re creating. Completely your choice. I encourage you to do whatever it takes to protect yourself,” I added with a sadistic smirk of my own. “We will do likewise. The simple fact is that you need us more than we need you. Until the primaries in February, you’re just one of a dozen potential first ladies. What Caz has done with me is current and fresh and newsworthy. There’s a demand for it, because I get asked about my miraculous transformation every single time I am interviewed. All we have to do is introduce the world to my miracle worker and it’s like printing our own money.”
Suzanne’s eyes narrowed and Dev likewise glared at me, but I just steeled my spine and kept going.
“Since we have an iron-clad exclusive contract with Darcy, you’re the only variable. We hope you stay,” I offered, as sincere as I could possibly be, “but if you want to play hardball with us now, it will backfire. I’m not going to cost my company millions of dollars to make one client happy, especially on a ‘maybe.’ I’m sure that there are plenty of wealthy, notable women who were also his clients, who could vouch for Caz much like you vouched for Devlin,” I pointed out with a slight arch of my eyebrow. “And that’s worked out so far, hasn’t it?”
Suzanne sat straighter in her chair, sliding a cool glance to my father. “I see we’re going to have to discuss this in private, Charles.”
Father had watched the interaction quietly. Finally he sat back in his chair and referred once again to the sales projections report regarding the new line of athletic wear that Caz would be endorsing. “I see no need to beat a dead horse, Suzanne. My daughter has presented her proposal and I have considered it. I think she’s right.”
My own eyes shot to my father, who had never made such a public display of support before. I stopped myself just short of squealing, “Really?” Instead I folded my hands on the folder in front of me and looked back to Suzanne, who was very obviously displeased.
Good.
“I see,” she said as she rose from the table. “I guess I have some reassessing to do. Come on, Dev,” she said before she stalked from the conference room.
Dad turned to me after they had slammed out. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
I thought about the looks on their faces when I had said, “Overture.” A slow smile broke across my face.
“Oh yeah. I’m sure.”
CHAPTER FOUR
>
I didn’t leave the office that day until well after six o’clock. There was too much to do. Oliver and I brainstormed on a social media blitz that would resurrect several of my dormant accounts. “Post photos of you at the gym, working out in the clothes, with Caz in every shot. They need to see him constantly, so that they can associate your changes with his talent as a trainer. I’ll set up some joint interviews, that way we can get his input on healthy physical transformations. I have to hand it to you, CC. Coming up with this at this time of year is genius.”
Two votes of confidence in one day? Apparently I was on a roll.
“I want you to go out with Caz whenever you can. Go to restaurants. Snap photos of healthy food. Be cozy. Touch. A lot. Show him as this rock of support, willing to go the extra mile to make you as strong and as excellent you can be. And if it gets a few tongues wagging around the water cooler about what may or may not be happening between you, all the better.”
I arched an eyebrow at my ex. “Seriously? You want me to lie?”
He shrugged. “Neither confirm nor deny. Let people fill in the blanks accordingly.”
“Let people see what they want to see,” I mumbled as the words came back to haunt me.
“You know how this works. Sex sells. We have crushed it with Youniquely Cabot. You sell a happily ever after with that and it’s like you said. We’re printing our own money.”
The positive reinforcement I had received from both Father and Oliver put a little spring in my step all the way to my car. I carried an armload of folders, to finish coordinating everything at home with Caz. With this new campaign, my January schedule filled up almost immediately. Ideally we would have had all this in place weeks ago. Now we had to strike while the iron was hot, while everyone and their dog rededicated their lives to healthy fitness goals as their new year’s resolutions. There was literally no time to waste.
And I was excited about it. Unlike Youniquely Cabot, which had been hijacked from the jump by Devlin, this new campaign was my baby. I couldn’t wait to get back into it at the house, where we could strategize what we would be doing that week to get the word out there.
My step slowed considerably as I approached my car, which was parked in my designated spot in the parking garage, near all the empty spaces of all my colleagues. From fifteen feet away I could hear the pulsating sounds of a heavy beat thundering from my car. Once I identified the song as “Hung Up,” I knew instantly who sat in the driver’s seat.
The tinted window eased down, spilling the loud music into the subterranean garage, where it ricocheted off of every wall.
“Get in, Coralie,” Devlin commanded.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Devlin. Get out of my car.”
“I’m not in the mood to haggle with you, darlin’,” he drawled with that hint of his Irish brogue, the one that indicated he meant business. “We need to talk before things go too far.”
“They went too far October 9th,” I spat.
“Fair enough,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you just fired the first shot in what will likely be a bloody war with many casualties. If you want to spare your family, yourself, and even Caz, you’ll get in this car.”
I debated for a long moment before I finally let out an exasperated sigh. I walked around to the passenger side, where I dumped my heavy load in the backseat before I slid into the front. He put the car into drive before I could fasten my seat belt, squealing out of the space and around the pillars toward the exit.
He hadn’t said anything by the time we pulled out onto Santa Monica Boulevard. “So do I get to know where we’re going?”
“Home,” he answered without looking at me.
“I could have driven to Bel Air myself,” I snapped.
“That’s not your home, no matter how long you choose to hide out there,” he informed me. “We’re going to Brentwood.”
“Fuck that,” I said at once. “Stop the car and let me out right now.”
“We haven’t had our talk yet.”
My jaw clenched. “So talk.”
He finally slid a sideways glance my direction, locking me into that icy green gaze. “Not till we get home.”
He locked the doors before turning his attention back to the road. He didn’t speak or even look at me until we pulled off into the private driveway to what used to be our home in Brentwood.
It hurt my heart to see it. I had fallen so in love with the place when we first found it. I could picture our whole life unfolding there, like an adventure we’d live every day. We were going to fill the halls with children. He would work at Cabot’s, I likely would too, but mostly I’d raise our family and keep our home. It was a dream I never even knew I wanted until I lost it.
“I don’t want to be here, Devlin,” I muttered as he put the car into park. Before I knew what was happening, he snatched my purse, and my set of keys, away from me.
“Your displeasure is duly noted,” he said before he exited the car. He put his own set of keys in his front pants pocket, so I knew I wasn’t getting them back anytime too soon, unless I went after them myself.
If I did that, I might not leave at all.
I exited the car and followed him up the walkway. He unlocked the door, pushed it open and then stood aside, holding his arm up, his hand pressed against the open door, almost creating another doorframe with his body, one he was going to force me to enter. He watched me while I cautiously approached and ducked under his arm, afraid that he would sweep me up into his arms like he had been prone to do.
(I missed that.)
Instead he just stared down at me while I ducked down and rushed past, closing the door behind the both of us.
I turned to inspect what changes he might have made now that he was a single man once again. It was all exactly the same. The same art on the walls. The same books on the shelves. The same furniture. I sent a look over my shoulder. “Surprised that Suzanne hasn’t changed everything.”
He walked to the bar in the library, set up near the patio doors leading to the massive, gorgeous backyard. “Suzanne doesn’t come here,” he said as he poured us both a drink.
“No? And here I was thinking she was the one pulling all your strings.” He brought me my glass and I took it. “Maybe she’s not the one holding the strings at all.”
“I simply pointed out that it was a lot riskier to meet here, in a house that I own, with my name on the deed, than some apartment that she rents under her own name.”
The fucker didn’t even bother to deny it. My throat ached when I swallowed. “Smart boy,” I said as I toasted him. “Protect that paper trail.”
He put his hand on the small of my back to lead me towards the living room. It was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, with all my beloved cobalt standing out against the stark white shelves, making the blue marble fireplace pop even more. A print of my mother’s favorite Monet painting hung above the fireplace, which instantly tugged at my heart.
“Please. Sit.”
I parked myself on the sofa, as close to the edge as I could get. He chuckled to himself as he sat on the opposite end.
“So what do you want, Dev?” I asked.
He studied me over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink. “What I want? I want to take you into our bedroom and fuck your brains out,” he said as casually as you please, as if commenting on the weather. “But what I want is irrelevant, Coralie.”
“You got that right,” I snapped before I took a drink myself. “So what’s this about?”
“You need to quit fucking with Suzanne,” he stated simply.
“Still looking out for her best interests, I see.”
“Yes,” he confirmed without any hint of remorse.
“Imagine if you had ever done that for me. We might still be married.”
“What I did, I did for you.”
I scoffed. “You fucked some other woman for me? How romantic. Most wives only want boring old diamonds and roses. Me? I guess I
get sloppy seconds and the threat of herpes.”
He let the comment slide. “Suzanne Everhart is a dangerous woman, Coralie.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m so sick of hearing all all-powerful she is. Did you see her in that meeting, Devlin? She was running scared. She knew I could blow over her house of cards like that,” I said as I snapped my fingers. “She’s all bluster and hot air now. Kind of like her husband.”
“You’d be a fool to underestimate her.”
“No, Dev. She’s a fool to underestimate me. You may be okay with her keeping you on her chain, but she has no power over me. I’m not some hot guy she can corral in her stable of studs. There’s nothing she can get from me.”
“Don’t you see? Your being a woman makes it that much worse. She’s always more sadistic to the women. Remember what Caz already told you about Lydia?”
“Excuse me but I’m a little bit more than some barmaid. My name has power. So does my reputation, especially now.”
“That’s why you have so much more to lose,” he said as he leaned forward. “This isn’t a game, Coralie.”
“Of course it is,” I snapped. “I just didn’t know I was playing it until one night in early October. Now I get to make some rules of my own. Suzanne Everhart is not going to threaten me, coerce me or intimidate me into doing what she thinks I need to do. She’s already taken everything away from me she can steal. There’s nothing left.”
He pondered that a bit before he placed his glass on the coffee table. He rose to his feet.
“Please. Join me for dinner.”
I stood too. “No.”
“Come on,” he cajoled. His voice dropped a notch and those eyes inhaled me as he gave me the once over. “You’re too skinny.”
I glared at him. “I thought you said I was perfect just the way I was.”
“You were,” he admitted before he turned towards the formal dining room. I fumed as I followed him.
Masters Forever (Masters #3) Page 5
