She nodded again but still stayed quiet. Her body tensed when I started, but after a few minutes she relaxed some, the tension easing up, and I knew she had gone inside herself. A lot of people did that when the pain was intense, either that or scream like fucking babies. Cassandra was tough—not a surprise. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.
I couldn’t let those blushes and smiles, that fucking tear, get to me. She was a Deighton. She’d always be what she was: a cold trust-fund princess.
I was glad she’d let her true colors shine through again. It made it a fuck of a lot easier for me to do what had only been a crazy idea until a few moments ago.
Lyall Deighton had hurt my family, had torn it apart.
He was about to learn exactly what that felt like.
Chapter Four
Cassandra
As I drove up the curving driveway to my father’s house, I cursed when I saw whose car was parked out front. Dammit. He’d set me up. He’d actually done it.
My father had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about Spencer and me for a while now. Spencer Livingston and his family owned the property next to ours, and it was his family who had bought our land when my father sold a large portion of it in a deal no one knew about until it was too late.
The guy was an egomaniac with an overinflated opinion of himself. We were never going to happen. Okay, I’d almost stupidly gone there after a night of backhanded comments from my father and one too many glasses of champagne. At the time, I’d felt…well, sad and lonely. I’d just wanted someone to want me. I didn’t care who it was. I’d wanted to be looked at like I was beautiful, all of me—to finally know what it was to be with a man. I hadn’t been in a great headspace and had somehow decided that man should be Spencer.
Probably because he had been trailing after me all night, plying me with drinks.
He’d driven me home and followed me into the guesthouse. He’d kissed me, and I’d realized within seconds that it was all wrong. I’d told him so and excused myself to use the bathroom. When I came out, I’d found him in my bedroom. He’d stripped off and was on my bed. I’d kicked him out and had ignored his texts and calls ever since.
I parked my car, and as much as I wanted to go to the guesthouse and pretend I hadn’t seen Spencer’s car, I’d agreed to have dinner with my father and Gran. My manners that had been drummed into me all my life wouldn’t let me do it. There was also the fact that Gran hated the Livingstons. If nothing else, I needed to be there to keep the peace. She and my father butted heads at the best of times, but inviting a Livingston to the house? She’d be furious, and she’d let them both know.
The house seemed to loom over me as I walked toward it. I had to fight the urge not to run to the stables, saddle Tierra, and take off for the night.
But with my father, it was all about appearances. Always. How he and his family looked to the outside world. If I stood him up, I’d never hear the end of it.
The fact I wasn’t perfect anymore, that I was marked physically by the awful day we lost Chris, was something he could barely tolerate. He certainly couldn’t look at it. The last time he’d seen my scars I was seventeen years old. It had taken every bit of courage I had to put on my new sundress that morning. It’d been hot and the dress was so lovely. I’d felt beautiful in it, for the first time since the accident. From the front, you could only see a little of the scarring at my shoulder, and I’d left my hair down to cover the back. My father had taken one look at me and paled.
“We have guests coming over. Get upstairs and cover that up at once.”
I’d never felt beautiful like that since.
My first session with Cal had been a week ago, and I wasn’t sore anymore. The stinging had subsided and now it just itched a little. The reminder of what I’d done bolstered me. It was my secret, all for me, and no one, not even my father, could take that away. The back piece would take at least another three or four visits before it was done. Cal had only done the outline so far, but I already loved it. I shivered as I took the steps to the front door, remembering the way the rough tips of his fingers had grazed my skin, the way he’d undone my bra…like a man undressing a lover. God, it had been so erotic.
Then he’d called me Cassy, and all the warmth I’d been feeling had drained away. No one had called me that, not since before Chris had died. My walls had come up instantly, an automatic defense mechanism to protect myself.
The door opened as I reached for it.
I expected to see my father, but instead, Spencer stood there, a smile stretching his lips wide as his gaze blatantly dropped to my chest. “You’re finally here. We’ve been waiting for you.”
He held out a hand, but I brushed past, ignoring it. “I thought this was just dinner with my family.”
“It is, but we had some…business to finalize.”
I slid off my coat and hung it up. “Please, don’t let me hold you up.” I offered him a cool smile.
He didn’t move, just stared down at me for too long until my skin started to crawl. “Why won’t you go out with me, Cassandra?”
I wasn’t expecting him to be so direct. I definitely wasn’t prepared for it. “I…well, I…”
“We had fun that night, didn’t we? Okay, I may have gotten a little ahead of myself, but that kiss. I haven’t been able to forget it.”
“A little ahead of yourself?” I said, incredulous.
He grinned. “I’m a wealthy man. Handsome. My father’s ranch, all that land, will be mine one day.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of women who would love to have me chasing after them, but you…you insist on playing hard to get.” His eyes did another sweep of my body. “Perhaps you’re just shy?”
I straightened my spine. “I don’t play games, Spencer—”
“Cassandra, you’re here.”
I turned toward my father’s deep voice. He was watching the pair of us, assessing us in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner, Spencer?”
“Unfortunately, I have another engagement, Lyall.”
I spun to my father, shocked that Spencer had used his first name. No one did that, only his very close friends were given that privilege, and my mother when she’d been alive. My father’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.
I was stunned.
They shook hands. “We’ll hammer out the finer points of this…arrangement next week?” Spencer said.
“Of course.”
When the creep left, I turned to my father. “What was that about?”
He flushed—from anger, embarrassment, something else, I had no idea. God, I’d never seen him lose his composure like that before, and that’s what I was witnessing.
“Dad…”
He turned away. “Let’s eat before dinner’s ruined.” Then he strode to the dining room, back and shoulders stiff.
What in the hell was going on? “Where’s Gran?”
“In her room.”
I followed and took the seat to my father’s left. My seat. The right had been Chris’s. My father always used to say Chris would be his right-hand man one day. Then Chris had stopped coming to dinner, had stopped coming home altogether. He’d become someone else, and my father had refused to see it. Had blinded himself to the downward spiral my brother was on. They’d always had a strained relationship, and I got the feeling my father had been afraid he’d lose him for good if he tried to control him. Because it had never worked. The tighter my father held on, the more my brother pushed back.
“Has she not been well today?”
Dinner was already on the table. There was also a glass of whiskey in front of my father, the bottle beside it. He swallowed down the amber liquid in one gulp then refilled his glass and repeated the action.
“Dad?”
“She’s fine,” he muttered.
This was so out of character I reached out and grabbed his hand before he could down a third glass. He jolted and yanked his hand f
rom mine, stumbling to his feet.
“What on earth’s going on?” I blurted. “And don’t try and brush me off and say it’s nothing. Something’s really wrong and I…I demand you tell me.”
The glass in his hand suddenly flew across the room, shattering against the marble fireplace. I shot to my feet when he spun back to me.
“You want to know what’s wrong?” he all but screamed.
I just stood there in shock, actually frightened. My father could be controlling, cruel at times, but I’d never believed he would physically hurt me. Right then, he was as close to the edge as I’d ever seen him, and I thought he might be capable of anything.
“I’m ruined,” he yelled, voice breaking. “I’ve lost almost everything. Besides this house and the land we have left, I have nothing, and it’s only a matter of time before the bank takes our home as well.”
My body was held so rigid I thought I might shatter if I tried to move. “Ruined?” I shook my head, unable to believe it. “How?”
“A couple of investments turned bad. I was treading water, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Then something came up, a sure thing, something that would save me…” He shook his head. “I trusted the wrong people, Cassandra. There was no sure thing.” He lifted his head. “I don’t know what to tell you…except it’s gone, all of it.”
I slumped back into my seat. “Is that why Spencer was here? No…tell me you aren’t going to sell this place to him?”
“This land has been in our family for generations. If I lost it”—he rubbed his hands over his face—“it would kill your grandmother.”
I’d received a small trust fund from my mother when I was twenty-one. The bulk was used to open the gallery, and the rest I’d used on my horses, to work toward reestablishing a breading program here. “I have the gallery,” I said in desperation. No, I didn’t want to give it up, but I would if it saved our home.
He shook his head. “The gallery, the horses, if we sold all of it, it still wouldn’t be enough, Cassandra. Not nearly enough.”
“Have you been to the bank?”
“They won’t touch me. I’ve tried.”
Oh God. How could this be happening?
I couldn’t bear to think of losing our home, Gran’s home. My father was right; it would kill her. She’d die of a broken heart if she saw it taken from us, everything she and my grandfather had built, had worked for.
“Spencer came to me with a proposition, something that could save this house, our land, my business…it could save…us.”
“Whatever it is, you have to try. You have to.”
“It involves you.”
I froze. “Me?”
He stared at me, flushing again.
A sick feeling gripped me behind the ribs. “What does he want?”
“He’ll back me financially until I’m back on my feet, and in exchange, he…”
“What?” I rasped.
“He wants you to marry him, to link our two families.”
I backed up so fast the chair behind me was knocked over. “You can’t be serious?”
“The ranch would remain ours until my death, then it would go to him. But if you’re married to him…” He shoved his fingers through his thinning gray hair. “I have connections, contacts that would be beneficial to him. You know what his family’s like. They’ve alienated themselves, made enemies of some powerful people in this town. Doors have closed. Spencer has been taking over more of the day-to-day running of their property, and he’s trying to repair the damage his father’s done. He needs me. He can’t succeed without my help. This union, it would be an answer to all our problems. Would be—”
“No.” I sucked several breaths in through my nose. “I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to.”
“You would rather see me sink, see me ruined, humiliated, than marry an eligible man, a man with money? A man who clearly adores you? He’d give you anything you wanted. He’d take care of you.” His face twisted. “He’s willing to look past the way you look—”
“You told him?” Pain, so acute it had the ability to knock me to the ground, washed over me. “About the scars?”
“Yes. You should be flattered that he’ll take you as you are.”
“Flattered?” I was going to be sick. “I don’t love him.”
“Love has nothing to do with it.”
“You loved Mom.”
“After a time, yes. I grew to love her, but ours was a kind of arranged marriage. Two powerful families joining forces, just like this would be.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “And that’s what you want for me?” I choked out.
His eyes darkened, locked on mine. “This is a good option for you.”
“Because I’m so hideous no one else will have me?”
He was red, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. “If Chris were here, if you’d told me how far he’d sunk, this would never have happened. He had a head for business. He would have done anything to save this family. He would have—”
I lifted a hand, unable to listen to another word. “I…I need to go.” I couldn’t take the weight of it, his accusations, the guilt, the shame. Chris’s death was my fault. And a part of me, a big part, knew he was right. I’d kept what I knew to myself, thought I could help Chris. I’d failed him.
“Cassandra,” my father barked.
I ignored him and ran for the door.
“Think of what losing this house would do to your grandmother,” he called after me. “She wouldn’t survive a blow like that.”
I froze, his words like a dagger to the heart. He was willing to use my love for his own mother to manipulate me. The threat of losing her to get me to bend to his will.
I shoved the door open and ran outside. I climbed back into my car and headed to the main road. I needed to get away. My phone was ringing before I hit the end of the driveway. I ignored it.
I kept driving until the “Thank you for visiting Springhaven” sign was in my rearview mirror, and I kept on going. When I finally stopped, I was across the street from Rocktown Ink.
I didn’t know how I ended up there, or maybe I did.
My next appointment wasn’t for another few days. I should have gone to Ted’s—that would have been the wise thing to do—but I was suddenly desperate to get the tattoo finished. I needed it done. God, I felt trapped. I couldn’t breathe. I shoved my car door open, slammed it shut behind me, and ran across the road, crying out when a car screeched to a stop in front of me and blasted its horn. I kept running, not sure why, just that I needed to get inside. I needed to be in the only place, besides riding Tierra, I’d ever felt any kind of freedom, any control over my own life.
It was late, after nine, but the lights were on inside the shop. I tried the handle, but it was locked, so I started pounding on the door, a desperation driving me that I had no control over.
Just like every other aspect of my life.
I’d tried to tell myself I could have a life of my own, that I could break free of the pain, the past, the guilt, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t.
The door swung open and Cal filled the space, tall and big and scarred and terrifying. God, magnificent.
“Please,” I whispered. “I…I need you to finish my tattoo…tonight. I need it done…I need it…I—”
His hands were suddenly on my shoulders and he was pulling me inside, shutting the door behind me. His fingers curled around my biceps and he stared down at me, intense gaze moving over my face. “What is it? What the hell’s going on?”
I clutched at his shirt. “Can you do it, can you finish it tonight? Please…please, need you to finish it…I need—”
He shook his head. “It’ll take longer than tonight, and you’re not healed enough for another session.”
I slumped, all my energy suddenly drained from me. Cal’s arms came around me, and he cursed. “What the fuck?”
God. What was I doing? I tried to push away, but he held on to me. Humiliation burned m
y cheeks, and I pulled on every bit of strength that I had and straightened. This time he let me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. Of course, you can’t do it right now. I’ll…I’ll leave.” I tried to turn away, but he held on to me. I forced myself to look up at him. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’ll see you at our allotted appointment time.”
He shook his head.
I blinked.
“Don’t have anyone else coming in tonight. If you want, I can give you something else, something small?”
The relief I felt had me grabbing for the wall. I didn’t care what he did. I just…needed this. “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with a dark intensity, in a way that had heat curling low in my belly and my nipples tightening against my shirt.
I dragged in a breath. I suddenly felt reckless. The desperation hammering me when I was banging on his door had changed into something else. Oh, I knew what I was doing. I was running, hiding from my feelings, from what I might have to do—from the guilt that threatened to suffocate me every day.
I’d been stupid, naïve to think I could erase even a small part of that by covering the scars on my body. I’d failed my brother and there was no getting around it, no hiding from it. And now I’d pay the price for it, because I owed my father. And I’d never hurt Gran, not for anything.
I walked to the curtained-off room beside the counter without being asked. Cal followed me in, and I turned to him. “I don’t know what I want. I just…I need it.”
“Where do you want it, Cassandra?”
I shook my head. “Somewhere no one will see it unless I want them to.”
He took a step closer, not crowding me, but close enough that my heart started to race faster. He reached out, fingers curling around my waist. “How about…” His hand slid higher, over my ribs, stopping just below my breast. His thumb slid back and forth. “Here?”
My nerve endings ignited, the heat from his skin burning me through the silk of my shirt.
His hand dropped to my hip. “Or here?”
Beg For You (Rocktown Ink #1) Page 4
