Masters Forever (Masters #3)

by Ginger Voight

  What had I done?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When my eyes peeled open the next day, I found myself alone on the big king-sized bed that was still tussled from our bawdy night before. I pulled myself into a sitting position and glanced around the empty room. Towels covered the mirror and the smoke detector. Still, I gathered the sheet and wrapped it around myself before I padded softly towards the bathroom. It, likewise, was empty.

  I headed to the living room, where the blackout drapes had been drawn. As I drew closer, I realized that the missing bedspread from the bedroom covered a figure huddled on the sofa. I stepped down, getting closer until I could make out the details of whoever slept on the couch. I pulled down the blanket, revealing the tattooed torso of Caz Bixby. With a sigh I nudged him on the shoulder.

  “Caz, wake up. It’s morning.”

  “Wake me when it’s evening,” he mumbled as he tried to turn away.

  “Where’s Dev?”

  “He left.”

  “Left where? When?”

  He turned back to face me. “He went to parts unknown after you passed out last night.”

  I gathered the covers up higher around my chest as I remembered our debauchery from the previous night. “Why are you on the couch?”

  His eyes never wavered. “Because that was where he wanted me.”

  “He told you to sleep out here? Why?”

  Caz pulled himself up in to a sitting position. “You said it yourself, CC. You’re his.” He rubbed his eyes with both hands. “And I guess I am too.”

  I sat next to him. “Is that why you haven’t made a move on me since you moved in?”

  “I’m an asshole, babe. Not a thief.”

  “You sleep with Suzanne,” I pointed out.

  “Slept,” he corrected. “And that doesn’t count. She gave herself away. That’s a whole other ballgame.”

  I chuckled. “Don’t tell me Caz Bixby is a stickler for rules.”

  He reached for a loose tendril of my hair. “Rules for sex separate us from the animals, CC. We get to pick and choose. We get to decide. You decided. We obeyed. That’s how it works.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly. I had asked him to take it easy on me and he had. I knew I’d never forget it.

  “No, thank you. Best blowjob of my life.”

  He punctuated his comment with his infuriating smirk. I took a cushion from the sofa and beat him with it. “You can’t let me have one moment, can you?”

  He laughed as he pulled me into his arms. “You wouldn’t love me any other way.” He kissed me softly on the lips and I let him. “Dev sent over more clothes from Darcy.”

  “Right,” I said as I thought about the gown from the night before. “Spare me the walk of shame.”

  “Hey,” he said as he captured my chin in his hand. “No such thing.” The look in his eyes stifled any argument I might have, so I nodded. “You want the shower first?”

  I shook my head and he flung off the covers before he stood, stark naked, in front of me. “Caz!” I said as I looked away.

  He chuckled as he used his hand to cup my face and turn me back. “No need to get shy now.” He thumbed my cheek. “You know, it is the desert. If you want to preserve water, you can join me,” he said as he stroked himself, like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. I glared at him and he laughed. “I do love you, pussycat,” he said before he headed for the shower.

  We were both back at our other hotel before noon, where I learned that Dev had already checked out of his room. Like Caz had said, he disappeared to parts unknown.

  Actually, I was fairly certain I knew exactly where he disappeared to, given it was Suzanne’s birthday the day before. He’d been given just enough time with us to show us who was boss, and then he was right back on Suzanne’s chain.

  I was fairly certain that we hadn’t proven anything, except how tawdry I could be when push came to shove.

  “Still good information to know,” Caz told me when I said as much to him about it in the limo on the way to the airport. “Know your depths. Know your limits. Know yourself.” He ran a finger along my nose until I jerked my face away. “Don’t tell me you’re having buyer’s remorse.”

  I glared at him. “What I did last night was to show Suzanne it wasn’t her show to run,” I insisted.

  “Bullshit,” he said. “What you did last night you did for you. Just own it. You wanted us and you had us. It’s okay.”

  “Maybe in your world,” I muttered as I stared at the Strip passing us by.

  “In everybody’s world,” he corrected. “You forget. I used to get paid quite a lot of money to bring fantasies to life. I know what goes on in the beating heart of many powerful, important women. I’ve called a CEO a dirty whore while she sucked my dick, down on her knees in her very own office. I’ve tied up and spanked a preacher’s wife while we watched her blowhard of a husband bellow about fire and brimstone from the TV. I’ve fucked a judge in her chambers, making her obey me to sit naked under her robes while she passed down judgment. I’ve even fucked famous couples who sell their own brand of happily ever after to the masses, because that’s what people want to hear, even though some beautiful married men like to suck a dick now and then. Deep inside, we all have our own personal itch to scratch. The problem isn’t how we define it. It’s letting other people define it for us.”

  “The Gospel According to Saint Caz,” I sneered.

  He chuckled. “I don’t promise one trip to paradise, honey. I guarantee multiples.” I simply glared at him. “Admit it, babe. You’re not pissed off about fucking two men. You’re pissed off that one of those two men now knows how much power he still has over you. Despite it all, you still want Devlin Masters.”

  I rested my head against the back of the seat. “Clearly I’ve gone insane.”

  He chuckled. “Love will do that to you. That’s why I avoid it like the plague. That’s what it is, you know. It makes you sick from the inside. Suddenly you’re on life support, tied to another person who could pull the plug at any time. Sex is easier. And way more fun. Trust me. You’re better off leaving Vegas as a dirty, dirty whore than somebody’s wife.”

  I thought back to the year before, when I was a happy newlywed. I felt so complete, even though I had only just met the man I married. Now I just felt dirty and used and ashamed. I turned away so Caz wouldn’t see the tear that hovered in the corner of my eye, waiting to fall.

  Devlin was right. The truth was a double-edged sword that always managed to cut me both ways.

  We got back into Los Angeles by late afternoon. On the way back to the house, Caz surprised me by saying, “I think it’s time I found my own place to live.”

  “You’re not worried about Suzanne coming after you?”

  He shrugged. “If she does, she does. I’ll handle it like I’ve always handled it. This isn’t about me.”

  My eyes met his. “If this is about last night…,” I started and he shook his head.

  “It’s not just about last night. Last night just showed me what I already knew. I’m in the way.”

  “Caz, no.”

  “It’s okay, pussycat,” he said with a warm, sincere smile. “I’m used to it.”

  I wanted to argue more with him, to insist that he didn’t have to face Suzanne alone. He had shown me loyalty when I needed it most, not to mention he had actually broken all ties to her, even when it cost him everything. He wasn’t in the way or on his own, and he needed to know that.

  For once in his life, he needed to know that.

  But the conversation dropped when we arrived at Father’s estate, only to find an ambulance out front. I barely got the car in park before I ran into the main house. Oliver was there, holding me back. “CC, it’s okay. Calm down.”

  “How can it be okay when there’s an ambulance outside? Where’s Father? What’s going on?”

  He sighed as he pulled me towards Dad’s office. Caz trailed behind, giving us enough space to talk, while still standing by if
I needed him.

  I suspected I might when Oliver sat me down in a chair and knelt in front of me. “Your father has cancer, CC.”

  “What? Since when?”

  “He was first diagnosed with bladder cancer your last year of college.”

  For a second I couldn’t breathe. “What?”

  “It’s a complication that many paraplegics face. They caught it early so they thought they could take care of it. They treated it aggressively and by the time you came home, he had already been given a clean bill of health. But this type of cancer recurs, so he had to have constant checkups to ensure it wouldn’t come back. Last year, it did. He knew by the time you left for Vegas last year,” he told me, his face set in a grim line. “He had already started treatment by the time you came back.”

  I remembered when I had come to see him right after Dev and I were married, and he looked so weak and frail in his bed.

  “They treated it aggressively, like last time, but this time it hasn’t gone away. It’s spreading.” I gulped hard as I waited. “It has spread to his lungs, CC.”

  I shot up out of the chair but he held onto my hand. “Let me go, Oliver,” I gritted as I glared at him. “I can’t believe neither of you told me this!”

  “He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to make any decisions based on…,” he trailed off and I fought tears as I waited. “The typical prognosis is five years, and that was what we were aiming for last year when he had his surgery.”

  I sank back into the chair. Father had surgery? How was that even possible? “When?” I asked.

  “When you went to France with Devlin.”

  For a second I couldn’t breathe. All of this had gone on underneath my nose and I didn’t know it? How was that even possible?

  Oh, right, because my powerful, wealthy, controlling father had made it possible. Like Devlin, he simply moved me around on his chess board, giving me only the information he thought I would need, when he thought I needed it.

  And now he had cancer, and Oliver was watching me with those heartbroken blue eyes of his, and I knew that Father had finally come up against a foe he couldn’t beat.

  “What’s the prognosis now?” I asked.

  “CC–”

  “Tell me!”

  “Optimistically, eighteen months.”

  I held back my gasp. “And pessimistically?”

  He sighed. “He won’t last the year.”

  I let out an anguished cry and Caz was by my side in an instant. “I need to see him,” I sobbed. Both men nodded and Caz helped me to my feet.

  “I’ll go with you,” he promised but I shook my head. I needed to do this alone.

  I tried my best to compose myself as I walked up the spiral staircase and down the hall to my father’s private suite. I felt like such a selfish shit. My whole world had been imploding around me and I hadn’t noticed, because I was too wrapped up in my own drama. Fabricated drama. Insignificant drama. Who the fuck cared who slept with whom? My father was dying. He had been dying right before my eyes for months and I didn’t even know it.

  I was the most awful daughter alive. I wasn’t just a bad girl, I was a bad person. A horrible person. And I knew karma was about to make me pay.

  I didn’t bother to knock on the door, I simply pushed it open. I rounded the bed, where Father lay beneath the covers. Just like the year before, he looked small and frail on the enormous platform bed built for a king.

  As I drew closer, I could see the bluish hue on his cheeks. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank and took shallow breaths as he dozed in and out. I covered my mouth with my hand so he couldn’t hear my panicked gasp. I eased up onto the bed and took his hand in mine. “Daddy?” I said softly, reverting instantly to a five-year-old who still needed her father, her hero.

  His blue eyes fluttered open and he turned to me. “Coralie,” he murmured. “You’re back.”

  I nodded. “I’m back,” I said. “I’m not leaving again, I promise.”

  He looked away. “They told you.”

  “You should have told me,” I chastised gently. “Why didn’t you?”

  He squeezed my hand. “You didn’t need the distraction. Nothing would have helped anyway.”

  “I could have been here,” I said.

  I could have enjoyed every minute, instead of letting them pass by like there was some unlimited supply somewhere.

  “You were here,” he smiled. “You’re with me every day of my life, Coralie.”

  His gentle words broke me. I lay on the bed next to him, my head against his chest, as I wept. He gently stroked my hair with one trembling, feeble hand.

  How the fuck had I missed this?

  I didn’t leave Father’s side for hours afterwards, until Gretch brought his dinner and virtually shooed me away so that he could get some uninterrupted rest. Caz was waiting for me when I finally lumbered downstairs. He didn’t say anything; he just took me into his arms to comfort me.

  I let him.

  I didn’t bother going back to Petit Paradis. Now that I knew how dire the situation was with Father, I knew I wanted to spend every minute I could with him. I would take over as his caretaker, like I had when I was fifteen. Within an evening I was back up in my old room, and Caz had my private bungalow all to himself.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, when I presented my idea to him.

  I nodded. “You need a place where Suzanne won’t get to you, and her goons wouldn’t dare to show up here. Not while Father is still alive.” There was a catch in my voice as I said it. “Besides, I’m going to need a friend nearby.”

  He took my hands in his. “Then I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

  That next week I spent taking over the operations of my Father’s estate. I didn’t go into the office. I didn’t bother with anything regarding YC. I stayed at the main house, interviewing nurses and going over my father’s end-of-life directives, which was a lot sadder to do now than six years ago, when I had gone with Father to his lawyer’s so that he could name me as his durable power of attorney and the heir to his estate the minute I came of age. Back then, I thought we were planning for an event decades in the making.

  Now I only had eighteen months, if we were lucky.

  I couldn’t afford to think about anything else. Wednesday came and went without a second thought. Devlin Masters was no longer my main concern. Men in general were no longer my main concern. Caz was a constant presence in the house, and I knew how serious everything was that Margot didn’t make a bigger thing out of it. Like me, she had found new priorities. We worked together to keep Father comfortable.

  Even Aubrey was on her best behavior.

  By the beginning of February, Father announced his retirement from Cabot’s, naming Oliver Lavoie as his successor. It was a decision we made together. As much as I had been groomed to head my family company, I no longer cared about the title. With that title came long hours of grueling work, and I had too much on my plate taking care of Father.

  I was still the official face of YC, though I didn’t want to be bothered with all the press and the hoopla that surrounded it. Thanks to stress eating, I had gained about five pounds, which made me feel more self-conscious in the clothes that no longer fit as perfectly as they used to. I tasked Caz with converting one of the bedrooms in the main house into a gym, just so things wouldn’t get out of hand. I could gain a lot of weight in eighteen months, especially with Gretch cooking for me again.

  She processed her grief by cooking all of my favorite foods. It was her version of taking care of me, and I defaulted to it. Caz wasn’t as judgmental about it as I thought he might be. Instead he cozied his way up to ol’ Gretch to teach her about other meals she could make.

  Even my stalwart Gretchen couldn’t fend off the charms of a determined Caz Bixby.

  Thanks to his more plant-based diet, even Father’s condition improved in small but steady ways over the next ten days. Because of this, everyone in the house welcomed Caz’s presence, even
Margot and Aubrey.

  I probably wouldn’t have thought of Devlin at all had it not been for Aubrey. She was determined to learn the piano, even though her teacher had gone M.I.A. Margot had hired someone else, a woman this time, who arrived at the house three times a week, for hour-long lessons that filled the den with the sound of the piano. Aubrey was still in her infancy as a pianist, so the music wasn’t very good. This made me pine for Devlin’s mastery in more ways than one.

  But I couldn’t afford to think about it. I had only one job left to do as Charles Cabot’s only child, and that was to make his remaining months on this planet as pleasant and stress-free as possible. I even suggested that we go to Châlons-en-Champagne and live there, but Father just shook his head and patted my hand.

  “I’ve too much left to do here, CC,” he said, and I knew he referred to the work he wanted to do with the Everhart campaign.

  “He needs to know the truth about her,” I grumbled to Caz one night, while we sat by the fire pit next to the pool.

  “Let the man die with some illusions,” Caz suggested.

  I was surprised that Oliver agreed. “It gives him something to fight for, CC.”

  I couldn’t argue that. Father came alive when he talked about the election, and the legacy he wanted to leave his grandchildren.

  It hurt my soul every time he brought up that painful subject. I regretted more and more that I hadn’t given him a grandchild that he had so dearly wanted.

  “This house was built to be shared. Our chateau near Châlons-en-Champagne is a virtual tomb now without a large family to inhabit it. Nothing would make me happier than to welcome a grandchild or two before my time here is done.”

  Harvey’s campaign gave Father something else to look forward to, to fight for; to wait for. So I kept my lip zipped and let him have one final illusion, to spare him at least from the double-edged sword of truth.

  I was the one who had to protect him now.

  So we diverted our focus to Lucy, who was due on February 17th, though she’d arranged her c-second on February 14th. The ultrasound showed that little Axl wasn’t so little after all, weighing in at over eight pounds, and he hadn’t turned from his breach position. The minute Lucy knew she’d have to have a C-section, she decided to aim for the date that she wanted the most.