“Then what the fuck is going on?”
Clayton let out a heavy breath and for the first time Hank noticed that his eyes were red, and his face was drawn. The realization made the hair on the back of Hank’s neck stand on end. He’d only seen that look one other time—when his father had given him the news that his mother had died.
“What is it, Clayton? What happened?”
“You’re needed at the palace immediately, Your Highness. There’s been an accident.”
Chapter Fifteen
Over two months had passed since Cassie had to be evacuated from her own brother’s wedding reception. Ten weeks to be exact, not that she was counting. At the time she swore she never wanted to see another reporter for as long as she lived, but when the Tribune asked if they could send someone from the Red Eye over to cover the newest addition to Millennium Park, she relented. And as her first day in business drew to a close, she was very happy with that decision because by all accounts, the grand opening of Sugar Rush was a smashing success. Even Cassie had to admit it, which given how much she’d been worrying about everything, was rather hard to accept. But despite a last-minute glitch with the computer system, a refrigerated case that conked out just as they opened the doors, and a young customer who decided it was best to lay on the floor and wail until his mother bought him the blue cupcake with the fondant teddy bear on top, things had gone remarkably well.
“That was amazing!” Olivia said, clearly riding the high of the day. That, or thanks to all the sampling she’d done, she was experiencing a literal sugar rush. “I think at one point there were about fifty people sitting under the umbrellas and they were all stuffing their faces with cake.” She sprayed the front of a display case with glass cleaner and wiped away the tiny fingerprints children had left as they’d pressed against the glass. Cassie had hired a small staff, but Olivia had insisted on pitching in for the opening. She’d been there all day and so had Cole, wearing a pink apron no less. Of course, he wore a tie beneath his, but still.
“I think I should take my business partners out for a celebratory drink,” he said once the last table had been wiped down.
Olivia clapped her hands together. “Champagne, definitely champagne.”
“No rest for the weary, or the successful,” Cassie said, reaching behind her to untie her apron. “You should know that, Cole.”
“But we aren’t open tomorrow,” Olivia remind her. “It’s Sunday.” Originally Cassie had planned to be open seven days a week, but Cole and Olivia had insisted on shutting the doors one day a week. Cassie worried about the loss of potential revenue from Sunday afternoon tourists, but Olivia was more worried about her friend running herself into the ground. They’d argued about it for days until Cole had his marketing team gather statistics on Loop foot traffic. Only then did Cassie relent, at least until she felt comfortable turning her baby over to someone else for a day. Truth be told, a day off after the exhausting week they’d spent revving up for the opening—not to mention the sixteen hours they’d just spent on their feet—would have been a welcome respite. But on this particular Sunday at least, the day off was going to be spent catering a swanky event at the Palmer House.
“Ah yes, but I’ve got that massive order to deliver and set up, so the champagne will have to wait.” She narrowed her eyes at Cole in a playful attempt to feign anger. “You ready to admit you’re behind that yet?”
He held up his hands in innocence. “I had nothing to do with it. I swear.”
“Uh-huh, so I just happened to land a massive order for the Meredith Vanderholden Grant Pediatric Cancer Institute by luck?” Not that Cassie was one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but she also wanted to succeed on her merits, not because Coleman Grant III pressured people into hiring her. An order of that size was unheard of for a shop that hadn’t even opened yet. When she’d gotten the call four weeks ago, she wasn’t even sure she should accept it.
“As much as I’d like to take credit, my grandmother doesn’t consult me on anything to do with . . . well, anything.” Cole laughed. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say you got that contract not because of your association with me, but in spite of it.”
He had a point. While the battle for control of Grant Industries had ended, his relationship with his paternal grandmother was still as contentious as ever. Olivia had once told her Cole referred to her as a viper in pearls. The image alone was enough to make Cassie’s skin crawl. With any luck, she’d be in and out of the event long before the charity’s namesake arrived.
“You sure you want to help with this one?” she asked Olivia.
“No way I’m sending you off to your first catering event alone.”
“I’d be there myself if I wasn’t due in Beijing Monday morning.”
Cassie laughed. “Coleman Grant the Third setting up a cupcake tower while wearing that pink apron? Now that I’d pay money to see.”
He tried his best to act wounded. “Hey, I think I rocked this look quite well today, thank you very much.”
Olivia wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist. “I hate that you’re leaving.”
“Come with me,” he said. It wasn’t a request.
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t leave Cassie. Her assistant manager doesn’t start until next week, so right now I’m all she’s got.” That had been another point of contention. Cassie wanted to conserve the salary needed to hire an assistant manager by doing all of the work herself. Not only was it good for the bottom line, but Cassie wasn’t sure she was ready to delegate responsibility. For her it had always been a case of “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” But Olivia insisted she hire a second-in-command, even going so far as to threaten to take the job herself if Cassie didn’t fill the position. Faced with the choice of an environmental activist trying to pipe frosting and roll fondant versus someone who actually knew how to bake, she made the wise decision and began to hold interviews. She’d even found someone she actually liked but her procrastination cost her in terms of start date so for now at least, she was a one-woman show.
Cole let out a resigned breath. “Fine, but I can’t be held responsible for my actions after a week away from you.”
Olivia molded her body against his. “I’m counting on that. Might even hit La Perla before your return.”
“The slutty stuff in the back?”
“Oh yeah.” Olivia nipped Cole’s earlobe with her teeth and he groaned.
Cassie cleared her throat with an exaggerated cough. “Get a room,” she teased.
“Just any room?” Olivia asked. “Or did you mean that kind of room. You know, they don’t have to be red. That was just in—”
“And on that note . . . good night,” Cassie said with a laugh as she herded the two of them outside. With the door locked and the closed sign flipped over for the night, she turned to face her shop. Her shop. She’d been in constant motion since before the sun had come up, but there, in the peaceful tranquilly, the reality hit her. Her dream had come true. She had a cute little cupcake shop in the heart of one of the city’s most beautiful parks. It was exactly like she had envisioned as a child, right down to the pink awnings and the white chairs. In her head she knew she should be happy. If only her heart wasn’t somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic.
She’d done her best to push him out of her mind. Having the shop to concentrate on these last two months had been a godsend, but even that wasn’t enough. The first week was the worst. After flying home on Cole’s private jet, she’d gone into seclusion. The concern had been that paparazzi would be camped out at her apartment, but news of Prince Edgar’s accident kept the coverage of Henry’s American fling to a minimum. The international press was far more concerned with the fate of one of Europe’s most beloved rulers than they were about his son’s latest tryst. One benefit to having a wild weekend with a man who turned out to be the poster child for bad boy behavior, even the press knew you were a dime a dozen.
According to Olivia, the phot
os of her and Hank had barely survived one news cycle. Not that Cassie ever looked. But she’d asked Olivia to keep an eye on the internet, updating her on Prince Edgar’s condition. From what the news reported, Hank’s father had taken a nasty fall down a flight of stairs. It was a freak accident that left him in a coma for weeks. When he finally woke, the palace had assured the country, if not the world, that the prince’s doctors expected him to make a full recovery. In the meantime, his son Prince Henry was to assume all of his royal duties. Which is why Cassie avoided the internet like the plague. She didn’t search his name or set up Google alerts, and she certainly didn’t look at any paparazzi shots that would undoubtedly show him with a different girl each night. What would be the point of seeing photos of the man who broke your heart moving on as if you were nothing more than a weekend fling?
Weekend fling.
That was exactly what she’d planned on having in Georgia. But then she’d gone and fallen head over heels for the guy. Cassie knew she sucked at relationships, but it turned out she was even worse at casual sex.
Olivia had tried to convince her to call him, citing the dreaded c-word, “closure.” Honestly, was there a more annoying word in the entire English language? Closure didn’t fix anything. It didn’t dry your tears or fill the hollow ache inside your chest. When a relationship was over, it was over. All closure did was sign the death certificate.
And besides, it wasn’t exactly like Prince Henry William Arthur George was listed in the White Pages. And even if 1-800-Royalty was an option, what exactly was there to say? He basically took his own version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, except instead of taking a sick day, he took on a new identity. Cassie was merely collateral damage. Nothing about that needed to be explained.
The First Annual Meredith Vanderholden Grant Pediatric Cancer Symposium was an event designed to bring the world’s premier minds together with the world’s premier checkbooks. And what better way to thank researchers for their expertise and donors for the generosity than with a tower of cupcakes? Yeah, Cassie thought, Cole had absolutely pulled a few strings.
“When you talk to that husband of yours tell him thank you.”
Olivia set the last tray of cupcakes on the table. “For what?”
“For booking this gig. Even though it’s got nepotism written all over it.” She smiled. “I still appreciate the vote of confidence.” Not to mention the business. While the donors and doctors might be expecting more than cake when they wrapped up their afternoon of presentations, with any luck they’d enjoy the treat and maybe even take a business card or two home with them.
“First of all, it would only be nepotism if you were related to Cole.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “I meant him and his grandmother.”
Olivia snorted. “That bitch wouldn’t lift a finger to help Cole or anyone he cared about. But I’m telling you, he had nothing to do with this.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I swear on Cole’s cock neither of us did anything to get you this order.”
Whoa! On Cole’s cock? There wasn’t anyone in the world who loved Cole’s cock more than Olivia did, well, except maybe Cole. “Okay, okay,” she said, laughing. “I believe you.” And after that declaration she absolutely did. But it still didn’t explain how a brand-new business scored such a big order.
“Done.” Cassie stood back to admire her handiwork. “Now let’s go put our feet up. I have a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge and we can pick up Chinese on the way to my place.”
“Sounds perfect,” Olivia said, falling into step alongside her as they made their way back to the van. They were halfway through the lobby when she stopped short. “Umm, Cass?”
“Hmm?” Cassie turned to find her best friend staring at a sign mounted on a brass easel. She followed her gaze and froze.
THE MEREDITH VANDERHOLDEN GRANT PEDIATRIC SYMPOSIUM WELCOMES HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY
Cassie’s pulse raced, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. He was there. Not just in the United States, but in Chicago. In that very hotel. Cassie had thought the security for the event had been a bit over the top for a bunch of eggheads talking about gene mutation and stem cells, but now the metal detectors and ID badges all made sense. It was all because of him.
Beneath the gilded lettering was a photograph of the prince himself. With a heavily adorned military uniform, slicked-back hair, and full beard, he looked nothing like the man she’d spent time with in Georgia. Still, there was something in his eyes that drew her to him and even though she knew she should just keep walking, Cassie found herself moving toward the photograph.
She stood, staring at it, lost in the memories of a time not so long ago, for what felt like an eternity.
“Are you going to talk to him?” Olivia whispered from beside her.
Cassie turned to meet her best friend’s gaze. Concern filled Olivia’s eyes. “What is there to say?”
“Obviously a lot according to him. Cass, the man flew halfway around the world to try to have a moment with you. Would it be so awful to hear him out?”
“He lied to me, Liv, not just about one thing, about everything. Nothing we shared was real, it was all some game to him. A double life with me as the punch line.”
For a moment Olivia’s shoulders sagged, but then she straightened and gave Cassie a look she knew all too well. It was the one that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Listen to me. You were happier those few days than in the fifteen years I’ve known you. And believe me, I get why you want to cut and run, but I’ve also seen the tears in your eyes these last two months when you thought no one was watching. And I can see the battle you’re waging even now. You’re tense as hell, but I bet your heart is racing too because part of you wants to go to him. Maybe to kiss him or maybe to slap him.” She gave her friend a small smile. “Lord knows that’s a reaction I’m familiar with,” she said, referencing the way she’d said she often felt about Cole. “But you can’t make that call looking at a picture. You owe it to yourself to see how you really feel.”
Olivia slipped her arm through Cassie’s and without another word pulled her toward the rear entrance of the ballroom. On the way they passed several men in dark suits with earpieces and microphones. Thanks to their credentials, the two women weren’t stopped or questioned, but the very presence of the imposing men was a reminder of how everything in Georgia had gone so horribly wrong.
“I can’t,” Cassie said, stopping a few feet shy of the ballroom. Behind the heavy doors she could hear the muffled voice of a speaker. “Besides, it’s already started. What if I open the door and everyone turns around to look at me?”
“Just take a peek. Then if your gut still tells you to walk away, at least you’ll know for sure.”
Cassie took a deep breath, wiped her damp palms on the front of her apron, then eased the door open a tiny crack. All at once she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. She should have waited, prepared herself more, hell, even taken a deeper breath. After Georgia she had resigned herself to the fact that she’d never see him again. But there he was, on a stage at the far side of the ballroom. Like the rest of the men on the dais, he wore a simple dark suit. Cassie wasn’t sure why that surprised her. It’s not like she was expecting him to be in a crown and a fur-trimmed cape. But even without the benefit of royal accessories, Hank still stood out above the rest. There was almost an aura around him, a commanding presence she could feel from across the room. He looked so serious and self-composed, entirely unlike the man who had walked into the bakery with a crumpled map and a shy smile. His hair was a bit longer than it had been then, though he still wore it down, not slicked back like it was in the photo in the lobby. And while he hadn’t let his beard grow back, he had a bit of stubble on his jaw that made him appear dashing and mysterious all at once. The combination was devastating and too much for her already chaotic emotions.
The man at the microphone finished speaking
and the auditorium erupted in a round of applause. A second man approached and shook his hand before addressing the crowd. He must have been one of the organizers of the event because his only order of business was to introduce the keynote speaker, Prince Henry William Arthur George.
Cassie pulled back, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible as she watched from behind the partially open door.
The prince took his time, entirely unaffected by the crowd that gave him a standing ovation for merely walking across a stage. When the clapping finally subsided, he began to speak. The sound of his voice cut through her like a double-edged sword.
“Ladies and gentleman, thank you so much for inviting me to what we all hope will be a world-changing event.” He stared down at the paper in front of him and his brow knit together as if considering his words. “As many of you know, cancer has had a profound effect on my life.” A deafening hush fell over the room as the prince paused. He waited a beat then cleared his throat before continuing. “My own mother was taken by this dreadful disease at a very young age, leaving a small lad without a mum and a grieving man without the love of his life.” His fingers curled around the edge of the podium. “This loss is not something I’ve ever talked about publicly, but I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few months thinking about something a friend told me. Cancer may take the ones we love, but they are never truly gone. Our love for them remains. And so do they, in the memories of those of us who loved them.”
Cassie’s mouth fell open. He was talking about her, quoting her, to a ballroom full of billionaires and brainiacs.
“Which is why I’ve established the Princess Sophia Grace Foundation,” he continued, “to work directly with cutting-edge cancer research centers, like this one, across the globe.”
Memories of the time they spent walking along the banks of a Georgia pond filled her mind. They’d shared a connection that night, bonding not only over a mutual loss, but in the comfort they found in sharing those emotions. At least she thought they had, but in hindsight she wasn’t so sure. Once back home, she’d replayed every moment they’d spent together through the eyes of someone who finally knew the whole story. Regardless of whatever name he’d called himself, Cassie hoped moments like those had been genuine and that the connection she’d felt was real. Judging by the story he’d just told the crowd, at least part of that was true.
Icing on the Cake (Wild Wedding Series Book 2) Page 19