He cupped my face for another kiss, which was equally tender and hungry. I pushed him onto his back for round two. I wasn’t about to stop until Dev Masters had been erased from every corner of my soul.
By morning, I had done all that needed to be done to break every single vow I had ever made to Devlin. I supposed that was why it surprised me that I didn’t feel any less bonded to him. The minute I woke up and found Caz sleeping curled up around me, I was still surprised to see it was his face and not Dev’s, even after all the naughty things we had done all night long.
I closed my eyes against both the hangover and the brutal reality that I still wasn’t free, and I never would be. I really was Coralie Masters–forever. I didn’t need a ring. I didn’t need any papers or a preacher or a church or a wedding or, as it turned out, a faithful husband. I had married him in my heart, and there was no divorce court for that.
I slipped out from under Caz’s heavy arm and reached for my dress. I had one walk of shame left, and it was back to my Father’s house.
Where I belonged.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I didn’t want to face Caz that next day, particularly because it was Valentine’s Day, so I did everything I could to avoid him. I had used him as sure as I had used anyone, and that was the thing I regretted most. When Aubrey mentioned heading to Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade, I offered to go along with. This surprised her, but she didn’t refuse, which surprised me.
Apparently we had a lot to talk about, because the second my car door closed, she asked, “So. How long have you been nailing gigolos?”
My mouth dropped open as I turned to her. “What-what makes you say that?”
“Two words. Caz Bixby.” I gulped hard. To further prove her point, she prattled off the website where I had found Devlin, which was also where I would have found Caz. “Alphas4Hire, right? Four hundred bucks an hour. I only hope it was worth it.” I stammered as I tried my best to think of something–anything–to say, but she was quick to let me off the hook. “I don’t care, okay? In fact, it makes me like you more. You realize how hard it was growing up in your shadow? The perfect Cabot.”
I chortled. “I have never been perfect, Aubrey. In fact, my own father favored you over me until I lost all my weight.”
She just shrugged. “He expected more from you. That’s a different thing. He felt it was his duty to keep pushing you and honing you and refining you. That’s what good parents do,” she added with a scowl.
“Margot loves you,” I assured.
“As much as she can love anyone,” Aubrey agreed. “Why do you think she fucks gigolos?”
“I would think it was because of three ex-husbands,” I commented, which made Aubrey chuckle.
“Point taken. So why did you do it?”
I slid a glance to her before I took a deep breath. The cat was out of the bag, so it was pointless to pretend it was still in it. “I wanted the fantasy,” I dismissed with a shrug.
She laughed again. “Boring ol’ Oliver just didn’t do it for you?”
“Oliver is a good man,” I asserted. “But no,” I finally admitted with a sheepish grin.
“It’s driving Mother crazy that he lives right there on the grounds,” Aubrey said with a grin of her own. “And she can’t say anything without admitting how she knows Caz is a paid escort. So major points there.”
“That wasn’t the goal,” I told her.
“So why is he there?”
Good question. “He’s my friend,” I shrugged. “Things have been difficult since the annulment.”
“And before the annulment,” she deduced, which I verified with a slight nod. “So Dev is one too, then.” I slid her another glance without answering. “Look, I’m not an idiot. Stunningly handsome man who clearly has beef with Caz, who showed up like Prince Charming but got put out to pasture for ‘fraud’ months later. There was only one thing he could be. Did you know when you met him?”
This was my chance to ‘edit’ my side of the story. I could have lied. I could have made myself out to be the victim. Those were the blanks she had already filled in. And if I were Dev Masters, I probably would have done just that. “I knew,” I admitted at last. “I hired him to go to that first party at Father’s.”
“Look at you,” Aubrey said, looking almost impressed. “So why did you marry him?”
“I was stupid,” I muttered. “He’s a guy who built his whole world with smoke and mirrors, and I believed the fantasy he sold.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched me. “Which he did so he could get Darcy in place at Cabot’s.”
She really was a smart cookie. “Points,” I acknowledged with a nod.
“What a jerk,” she decided. “Don’t feel bad, CC. I bought his nice guy act too, and I’ve dated way more losers than you. That was why I tested him almost right away, especially during those bogus piano lessons. I dressed sexy, I said provocative things, and he treated me just like a kid. That’s usually how you know the good ones,” she said. “Must be a professional credo or something, because Caz didn’t rise to the bait either. Still doesn’t,” she added with a frown.
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with my seventeen-year-old cousin. She really had matured past her years, but I credited being born into influence and excess for that. She acknowledged as much by admitting she’d begun having sex as early as fourteen.
“That’s way too young.”
She shrugged. “Age is relative. I never felt like a kid. From the time I was twelve I was more mature than my own mom. Her boyfriends reacted accordingly. My first was one of guys she dated, one of the younger ones, like she likes, but he was still older than me. Twenty-three, I think? I didn’t care about any of that. I just thought, hey. Here’s this older guy, who seemed to understand I was tired of everyone treating me like a kid. So he didn’t. I don’t have to tell you how powerful that made me feel.”
I shook my head. I did know. I just learned my lesson at twenty-three, rather than fourteen. “He took advantage,” I told her and again she shrugged.
“I figured I could either be a victim to my life or I could take charge of it. I decided to do the latter.”
“Maybe you could teach me some things,” I commented.
She smiled. “Maybe.”
Our afternoon together was one of the best we’d ever shared. We talked. We shopped. We even stopped for burgers and shakes, where she matched me calorie for calorie, admitting she actually wished she could gain weight because she was tired of being dismissed for her looks alone. Her perspective was eye-opening to say the least. By the time we returned to the house, we were fast friends at last. And my new bestie decided to give me some privacy when we ran into Caz in the kitchen.
I deposited the bags filled with my new goodies on the table, so he walked over to join me where I stood. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again,” he commented with that smirk of his.
“Sorry about leaving so suddenly. I just needed some time.”
“I know,” he said softly. “And I also know that it was one and done. I knew that last night, which is why I made the most of it.”
“I’m sorry, Caz,” I started but he waved away the apology.
“One night with you was one more than I ever thought I would get. And it was perfect. Who am I to complain?”
I could tell he was being sincere. It only made me feel worse. “You’re too good to me, Caz.”
He caressed my hair. “Gotta be. You’re my pussycat. The only one I got.” He pulled a paper heart from his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Caz,” I said before I walked into his hug and he squeezed me tight. Against my ear he said, “But I have put the whole night into the spank bank. Just FYI.” He pulled away just enough to turn over the heart to show where he’d drawn a crude figure of stick figures going at it doggy style.
I tried to pull away and he just laughed. “Why do you have to Caz everything?” I asked.
He looked dow
n at me with that infuriating smile. “Because you wouldn’t love me any other way.”
Sadly, he was right. I did love him. He was my friend, and I was glad to have him around, so much so that I wouldn’t entertain any ideas of his moving out of Petit Paradis. “We’ll keep going like we’ve been going,” I decided. “And you’ll be famous, just like you always wanted.”
For the foreseeable future I was still the face of YC, traipsing all around Los Angeles wearing pretty clothes under the harsh, unforgiving spotlight. I wasn’t going to go through all of that alone, especially after the stern lecture I got from Father when he was informed of my shenanigans the night before. He was still the only one who could shame me, mostly because he was now doing it behind an oxygen mask.
Almost for that reason alone I went into overdrive trying to make things up to him over the next couple of weeks, since I really didn’t have anything else to do. Oliver had everything under control at the store, and I had fully staffed the house to meet every single need Father might have.
Plus, and this was the important part, Devlin Masters had finally taken the hint. I knew it the first Wednesday that passed without dozens of roses to greet me at the office, with an invitation to meet him at our house in Brentwood.
There was nothing more to learn about each other. All our secrets had been laid bare, wedging us apart every bit as much as we thought they might.
Of course, it could have been because he was busy with his new life as a pop star. I heard his song everywhere. Everyone wanted to know more about this enigmatic man who had seemingly exploded out of nowhere with such impressive talent and skill it was a marvel he got to the grand ol’ age of twenty-eight without being discovered.
It became one more interview question I had to field. “Did you have any idea how talented Devlin was while you were married to him?”
To which I would smile and reply that I knew Devlin was full of surprises from the moment we met.
#truestory
I, on the other hand, was done with dating and with men in general. I stopped myself just short of ceremonially burning the rest of my birth control pills, which I threw away in a vain effort never to have sex again.
Not that it mattered. I couldn’t get pregnant even when I tried to, so the gesture was symbolic at best.
To the world, though, it was understood that Caz and I were an item. His living arrangements leaked to the press, which created quite a story. But it was okay because it was our story. We didn’t announce Father’s illness, or the gravity of it, until after Oliver had taken over as CEO. Afterwards, when the story broke of Father’s prognosis, gossip sites began to whisper about Caz being seen at the house at all hours. Eventually we broke the news ourselves as an exclusive to a celebrity magazine that he had moved into the guest house so he could be nearby if I needed him.
The added benefit of this was yet another slap in Suzanne’s horrible face, to let her know she wasn’t going to get to Caz or control me anymore.
And Devlin could stick it in his ear that after I slept with Caz, I still preferred to live near him than return to Dev. A win all the way around.
In fact, I didn’t have to see Devlin again until early March, when Caz and I attended a fashion show hosted by Cabot to introduce our spring line. It was my debut as a model, and I was really quite sick about it for a variety of reasons. One, I had never walked a runway in my life. I had begrudgingly accepted the spotlight, but it wasn’t where I wanted to be. Especially around the kinds of people I knew would attend our fashion show.
Because of how prominently Youniquely Cabot had figured into Suzanne’s image branding, she had been invited as a VIP guest, and I figured that Devlin would be on her arm. He had to make an appearance because his sister wouldn’t, or so I thought, at least until I showed up backstage and I saw Darcy huddling with her models, Jorge Navarro at her side.
The changes in her were astounding. I had only seen her a couple of months before, but it was like looking at a new person. She wore one of her own outfits, still purple, like she liked, with a little bling and pizzazz, like she liked. The sheath dress was a deep grape color, with a layer of heavenly chiffon falling from the dropped neckline like a waterfall, a smattering of amethyst-colored rhinestones across the bodice. Her makeup was impeccable, thanks to Jorge, and her hair was a bit longer, straightened and framing her face, practically shining like copper under the lights.
I greeted her with a hug, which she shyly reciprocated. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged as she pulled away. “It was Oliver’s idea,” she dismissed without looking at me. I knew she was just as overwhelmed as I was about walking down that runway in front of all those people who would pick apart any and all details. I squeezed her hand.
“I’ll carry your barf bag if you carry mine.”
She laughed, which helped her nerves. I turned around, practically face to face with Devlin, which destroyed mine.
He was still, without a doubt, the most handsome man I had ever seen, and the suit he wore only accentuated that. Those eyes were still positively lethal as he stared down at me. I had to fight the urge to step out of their hold.
“Miss Cabot,” he greeted with the faintest of snarls. My stomach dropped even more.
“Mr. Masters,” I said.
He handed me a box. “Here’s your dress.”
“Thank you,” I stammered as I snatched the box from his hands and ran into one of the dressing rooms, where thankfully he did not follow.
I slipped into the ivory masterpiece. It, too, had a chiffon skirt, with a slit high up on the thigh, but it was the bodice that set this dress apart. The seashell lace was in the same classic ivory, and the snug-fitting bodice featured a dramatic jewel neckline.
Jorge joined me to finish my look, styling my hair and applying my makeup, while his assistant, Clementine Pomeroy, another full-figured alternative beauty with tattoos and bold purple streaks in her platinum hair, chose my accessories.
I felt better prepared to face both Suzanne and Devlin when I emerged, but my legs still shook as I waited backstage with an equally nervous Darcy. I reached for her hand, and she allowed me to give her a reassuring squeeze.
Finally it was our turn. Pulsating music blared from the speakers overhead as our hostess, Fierce’s own Dominique Prejean, prattled off all the details of what we all wore as model after model sashayed along the platform. I honestly thought I really did need a barf bag when it was my turn. I ignored everything except that tiny inner voice saying, “Don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip,” as I took my spin along the stage. I decided not to look into the crowd whatsoever, because if I saw Devlin, or Suzanne, or worse–the two of them together–I would have taken a nosedive right into the audience.
Less than a minute and it was over. The Face of Youniquely Cabot had popped her modeling cherry with nary a spill, or the projectile vomiting I suspected might play a factor thanks to all my jangled nerves.
More important to me was the warm welcome that Darcy received as she officially introduced herself as our masterful, magical designer, which was celebrated with thunderous applause and a standing ovation, led mostly by Oliver.
I gave her another big hug once we disappeared backstage. “You were fantastic,” I praised.
She just shook her head. “You’re the one who they wanted to see, CC.”
I lifted her chin to look me in the face. “Not anymore.”
In fact, a throng of admirers flocked to Darcy once we were all whisked away to the after-party. Had it not been for Oliver standing strong and true at her side, I suspected she would have flown right out the door, particularly when Caz insisted we say hello.
“You really think that’s a good idea?” I asked.
“If you can face Devlin, I can face Darcy,” he said quietly.
She, however, wasn’t thrilled to see him, especially when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “You look amazing, Darcy,” he praised warmly, but I could tell by her flashing g
reen eyes she didn’t believe him.
Neither did Oliver, who almost created a human barricade between them. Caz understood this, and looked appropriately contrite. “I just wanted to say congratulations. You looked beautiful up there. You deserve every success.” He leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. She didn’t look into his face as she nodded.
“What did you say?” I asked when we were swept with the throng of admirers towards the ballroom, where I could already hear Devlin playing.
“What else could I say? I told her I was sorry.”
I squeezed his hand in mine. “You’re a better man than you think you are, Caz Bixby.”
He simply smiled, wrapped an arm around me and said, “Say that to someone who hasn’t been staring at your tits for the last two hours.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop chuckling either.
We joined our table, where Margot and Aubrey were already seated. Margot had another date, some wealthy businessman from our country club, who was smitten with the dark-haired beauty, though I could tell by looking at her she didn’t feel the same. Aubrey was quite over it, I could tell by the pout she wore. No one wore the resting bitch face as well as Aubrey Dupriest, but this went way beyond that. If you looked hard enough, you could see the pain she masked with adolescent contempt. We’d become close in the past couple of weeks, where she confided how much it had hurt her over the years that her mother cared more about scoring a husband than raising her daughter.
“And now she wants me to find a husband, too,” Aubrey had frowned. “There are other priorities in life.”
I was surprised to learn that she wanted to go to college way across the country. She had already been accepted at Columbia, and it seemed that Margot was ready to marry her off before she sent her baby packing to New York City.
“Like that’s worked out for any of us,” she had muttered to me in private. As I watched Devlin play, I couldn’t really argue.
She leaned forward. “You still love him, don’t you?”
My startled eyes met hers. “What makes you say that?”
Masters Forever (Masters #3) Page 22
