Point of Submission (Point Series Book 1)

by Remy Rose

  She’ll also be surprised when she opens the gift I got her. Estelle helped me pick out the dress, and I found the ideal accessories to complement it. Giving her things makes me feel less like a prick, but it goes beyond that—I want her to have nice things, even though I know her pride makes it tough for her to accept them. So I’ve got to be diplomatic. It’s obvious that she’s struggled financially, probably all her life. It gets to me, thinking of her struggling in any way.

  There it is again—that goddamned protective urge I get when I think of her. I’m pulling into her apartment complex now, so I’ve got to change my mindset. This time, I’m going to the door and actually knocking—probably even step inside.

  I glance down at the two jewelry boxes on the passenger seat. The Paloma Picasso amethyst pendant I ordered from Tiffany's is twenty carats, and there are matching earrings and a Waverly sterling silver and amethyst cable bracelet to go with it. A little on the extravagant side (Estelle had raised an eyebrow), but this will be the only formal event I’ll take Cassandra to, and I want her to feel elegant. Special.

  The door opens before I can knock. “Hi,” she says breathlessly. “You're early.”

  Jesus.

  My mouth suddenly goes dry. I swallow—can’t speak. Seeing the dress when I ordered it was one thing, but Christ...nothing could prepare me for how beautiful Cassandra is in it. The color is a vibrant violet—a perfect shade for her creamy skin—and brings out the richness of her auburn hair, which falls to her shoulders in long, loose waves. The dress is strapless, fitted at the top to accentuate her breasts and pulled in at the waist with a flat bow, ending just above her knee with a filmy-looking skirt.

  She looks like a goddess. A dream.

  “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

  Get ahold of yourself, Leone. Speak. “Just for a minute?”

  She smiles. “I don't want you to be late to your sister's party.”

  I sweep her into my arms, nestling my nose into her hair. “Mmm...you smell delectable. Not like fried pickles this time, but still delectable.”

  “Thank you. Calvin Klein ck one.”

  “Very nice choice. It's clean. I like it.”

  She wraps her arms around my waist and looks up at me as my chest tightens. “My friend Teal lent it to me. I don't usually wear perfume. And you smell quite lethal yourself—almost tropical. Let me guess...you didn't get your cologne at Macy's.”

  “Correct. Straight to Heaven by Kilian.”

  “Expensive?”

  “$245 a bottle.”

  “Seriously? You actually spent that on cologne?”

  “It could be worse. Clive Christian has one for over $800. But then again, the bottle is crystal and gold with a five-carat diamond.”

  Cassandra shakes her head. “I just don't get that.” She fluffs at the skirt of her dress. “This—Bloomingdale's—even feels out of my league. I'm more of a Target/T.J. Maxx kind of girl.”

  “So you basically turn up your nose at snobs. Which I find refreshing. And I hope this doesn't make you mad, Ms. Larsen, but I did get you some non-Target accessories.”

  “You didn't need to do that.”

  “I wanted to get you something special, to thank you for going with me. Wait here.” I go to the car for the jewelry boxes.

  She looks at the names engraved on the boxes, her eyes widening. “Tiffany's? Nordstrom's?”

  “Open them.”

  A sharp inhale as she sees the amethyst pendant and earrings. “Carlo...they're gorgeous. But this is way too much. Please tell me they're on loan.”

  “No. Yours to keep.” I lift the necklace from the box and move behind her to drape it around her neck, letting my fingers brush against her skin and smiling when she quivers.

  With careful fingers, she replaces her earrings with mine and turns to the full-length mirror in the entryway. “I just—no one's ever... She pauses, her cheeks coloring. “Thank you. They're beautiful.” Unexpectedly, she leans back against me, her face glowing and her voice a murmur. “Carlo...we look good together.”

  For the second time, I’m unable to speak.

  “Yes, we do,” I manage. “Here—” I hand her the Nordstrom box. “The bracelet. Or, as you'd prefer to call it, wristlet.”

  She wrinkles up her nose at me, lifts the lid and gives a little gasp.

  She’s not the only one seeing something beautiful. I am, too—watching Cassandra's almost childlike excitement opening these gifts. It’s getting to me in a major way, seeing the pure pleasure on her face and knowing I’m responsible.

  “So you approve of the accessories.”

  Cassandra opens the clasp and slips the bracelet on her wrist, her fingers running along the darkened silver grooves. “Yes. Especially this. The stones make it beautiful and feminine, but it's got something to it, you know? It feels solid.”

  “It reminds me of you. That's why I had to have it.”

  She turns around to face me. There’s a shine to her eyes, and I feel like I’m rooted to the floor—almost as if I’m under her control.

  Now there’s a switch.

  “I wish you hadn't gotten me anything, though, Carlo. And when you said you wanted to thank me for going with you tonight...just being with you is more than enough. I haven't told you this, but I was doing some major questioning about why you picked me. Maybe you see me as some sort of project, like your civic duty.”

  Project. I cringe inwardly at the reference.

  “But you know, tonight is really the first time in a long time that I've felt special, and valued. And like it's not totally weird for me to be your date. I'm actually looking forward to this party. Mostly because...I get to be with you.”

  The third time I’m speechless. I look down at Cassandra, fighting the urge to take her in my arms and hold her tight.

  Fighting that urge, because I might not be able to let her go.

  “So I guess I'm the one who ought to be doing the thanking,” she says softly.

  I find my voice. “You're killing me. You realize that, don't you?”

  Cassandra smiles. “I'm glad.”

  * * * *

  The venue for the engagement party looks amazing...Brenda and the staff at Bent Brook did a stellar job. The dining room is warm and elegant without being stuffy; there’s a jazz piano player in the far corner hovering intently over the keys, filling the room with rich sound; there are mini white lights Gianna adores, draping over sprays of bare branches in big clay pots. The usual ivory tablecloths had been replaced with ones of honey gold, the centerpieces made of antique mason jars filled with Gerbera daisies: multiple flowers of the same color (crimson, burnt orange or yellow) with a single flower of another color to stand out—for our mother. Gi loves fall colors, and she actually reminds me of them—warm and bright—so this is all perfect.

  Cassandra loves it, too—it’s written all over her face. Without thinking, I take her hand and squeeze it, and it hits me how natural it feels to do this.

  Estelle’s the first person to greet us, wearing a royal blue dress and silver jewelry, her gray hair curling around her ears. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her light blue eyes are sparkling. I give her a low whistle. “Estelle, you’re looking absolutely ravishing tonight.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Carlo.”

  “I'm serious. I've never seen you look better. Where’s your date? It would be a crime if you didn’t have one.”

  “He's at the bar getting us drinks. I'll introduce you when he comes over.”

  “Speaking of introductions...this is Cassandra Larsen. Cassandra, my secretary and personal savior, Estelle Perry.”

  “Listen to about a third of what he says, Cassandra. Most of it is just foolishness.” She takes Cassandra's hand in hers. “It's wonderful to meet you. You're even lovelier than I'd imagined.”

  “Thank you. And my sympathies for having to put up with him on a daily basis.” Cassandra looks up at me, one eyebrow raised.

  Estelle lau
ghs. “She's savvy as well as beautiful.”

  Estelle’s date joins us—he’s a stocky man with a shock of white hair, holding two martinis and looking a little uncomfortable in his light gray suit. Estelle takes a martini and looks at him adoringly. He’s not what I expected...I thought she’d be seeing someone taller, more bookish and refined. But this is Estelle, and I’m definitely going to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. She introduces him to Cassandra and me, and we learn that Martin owns a small landscaping company. He hits it off right away with Cassandra when he tells her about his childhood love of horses. Brenda comes over to check in and then points over my shoulder toward the door. “The guests of honor have arrived!”

  I turn to see Gianna and Jordan coming into the dining room, smiling and greeting guests. My throat tightens up as I watch her—this baby sister of mine, all grown up and beautiful. God, I wish Mama and Scott were here to share in this. It weighs on me, sometimes—wanting to be enough for Gianna as a devoted older brother. But she looks over at me smiling, eyes glistening...and right now, I do feel like enough.

  Gi’s looking almost exotic in an off-the-shoulder, burgundy gown. Jordan’s his usual, casual self in a light purple polo, dark pants and loafers, his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and his arm around his fiancee's waist. I’ve teased Gi before that I think Jordan has Malibu Beach water running through his veins. He’d no doubt be wearing flip-flops tonight if Gianna let him.

  Gi leaves Jordan's side to come see me, and I grab her in a bear hug, kissing her on each cheek.

  “Oh, Carlo, the place looks amazing!”

  “It does. You can thank Brenda and Estelle—they're the ones who took care of all the details.”

  She hugs each of them and turns back to me, darting her eyes at Cassandra and glancing at me expectantly.

  I have to grin at her obvious hint. “Gianna, this is Cassandra. Cassandra, my baby sister, who’s grown up too fast.”

  The two of them shake hands, and there’s an instant mutual affection. No surprise there, seeing as they have similar personalities and are close in age.

  “Congratulations on your engagement,” Cassandra says. “Or maybe I should be saying 'best wishes?' I'm not very good with etiquette.”

  “I'm actually not sure, either,” Gianna replies, laughing. Jordan comes over to shake my hand and starts talking to Cassandra. Gi leans in to whisper to me. “Attraente, Carlo! Bellissimo!”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “I really like her. She seems down-to-earth.”

  “I'm glad you approve, Gi. But please don't make more of this than it is.”

  She looks at me, puzzled but smiling. “And what is it?”

  “It's your big brother bringing a date to his little sister's engagement party. Nothing more.”

  Gianna opens her mouth to retort when she’s interrupted by Jordan. “Hey, Gi. We should go mingle before we eat. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at these things?”

  She links her arm through Jordan's. “Yes, love...good idea. Carlo, I'll be back to sit with you and Cassandra. I'd love to get to know her better...and I'm sure she'd enjoy hearing some stories about when you were younger.” She smiles sweetly.

  “Hey...I think you’ve got this wrong. It’s supposed to be big brother picking on little sisters, not the other way around.”

  She blows me a kiss as she walks away. I put my hand on Cassandra's back and walk her toward the tables. Gi hadn't wanted a head table...not her style. I had Estelle create a seating chart, and without my even saying anything, she put Brock and his date a good distance away.

  Our table is easy to find, since it’s the only one with a small, covered silver platter at one of the place settings. I fight the urge to smile as Cassandra follows me over.

  Glancing at her, I can see the puzzlement veiling her face. She leans over the table to look at the place card, her wavy hair slipping over her shoulder. An excuse to touch her—I’ll take it. I brush her hair back and let my fingers hesitate on her skin as Cassandra makes a pronounced exhale.

  “This is my place setting.” She looks up at me.

  “Yes.”

  “But why am I the only one with a covered dish?”

  I arrange my face to look innocent. “I guess you'd better see what's in it.”

  She carefully lifts the lid, her mouth opening in astonished delight as she bursts into laughter. “A Twinkie? Seriously, Carlo, a Twinkie?”

  “I wanted this night to be memorable.”

  She shook her head, giggling. Exactly the reaction I was hoping for...even better than when she'd opened the jewelry boxes. There’s a surge of something in me that I can’t quite identify as I start laughing, hard.

  “Only you, Cassandra, would appreciate this.”

  “And only you, Carlo, would think of this.” Her eyes sparkle as she lowers her voice. “Okay if I eat it?”

  “Of course. Although with the way you're looking at it, I'm wondering if I should leave the two of you alone.”

  She starts giggling again. I’ve never seen her so relaxed and animated. So happy.

  Christ, this girl. Turning her on has been the height of satisfaction for me, but to make her laugh like this? Takes it to a whole other level.

  There’s someone else coming in the dining room entrance: a tall, well-built, blond man and a dark-haired woman in red. Brock, and his date.

  I feel my mood darken, but there’s one bright spot to Brock's arrival, because he brings me back to reality—and the real reason Cassandra’s even here in the first place.

  Brock stands in the archway like he’s waiting for people to notice him. Classic Brockton Dall—wanting to make an appearance.

  I look down at Cassandra. “I'll give you some private time with your snack cake. One of my colleagues just came in...I'll bring him over to meet you.”

  Just saying those words makes my jaw muscles clench. But no worries. It’ll be introductions, maybe a little small talk, and then Brock will take his date and go find his table. With any luck, he’ll leave the party early—especially since he’s really only here to see Cassandra.

  “Well, here's the host of the party now.” Brock’s grinning broadly. As usual, he’s looking cool, confident and impeccably dressed, wearing a tan suit and a light orange, button-down shirt. His date is attractive—tall and sleek-looking, with short black hair tucked behind her ears. Her red dress is clingy, revealing some impressive cleavage. She’s got an air about her, like she’s trying a little too hard to be confident. I feel almost sorry for her because of who she’s with.

  “Carlo, this is Sheryl. Sheryl, this is the illustrious CEO of Miller Valve.”

  I smile and reach out to take her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you. You as well.” She turns abruptly to Brock. “I'm going to find the ladies' room. Would you get me a drink? Sangria, or a Cosmo. Surprise me.”

  Shaking his head and chuckling, Brock watches her walk away. I raise my eyebrows. “Looks like you still have some work to do.”

  “She likes to give the impression that she's in charge. It's become a different story in private, I assure you. But I have to admit, it's been a challenge. Although that's the whole point—right, friend?”

  A tightness in my gut, then a stab of resentment. Right, friend.

  “So where's yours? Can't wait to check her out.” Brock's green eyes are overly bright.

  Might as well just get this the fuck over with. “She's at our table. I'll introduce you.”

  My secretary and her date have joined Cassandra, the three of them talking like old friends. Estelle looks up when Brock and I approach—the change in Estelle's expression when she sees him isn’t lost on me. I feel a sharp jab to the conscience, seeing Cassandra smile up at me.

  “Cassandra, I'd like—this is my colleague, Brock.” I don’t usually stumble over my words, but the phrase I'd like you to meet got caught in my throat. Go figure. I can feel Estelle's eyes on me.

  Twisting in her c
hair, Cassandra offers her hand to Brock...who bends down to kiss it. Son of a bitch. My hands instinctively curl into fists. Settle down, Leone. Don’t read more into this—it’s just Brock being Brock.

  “I've been looking forward to this.” Brock's voice is smooth. “I've heard about you from the boss, but I have to say, nothing could have prepared me for the exquisite beauty at this table.”

  An awkward silence, with Cassandra blushing furiously and me stiff with not knowing how to handle this.

  But Estelle does. “Why, thank you, Brock...how kind of you to say. Martin and I are flattered.”

  Thank God for my secretary and her trademark biting wit. Cassandra's hand comes to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Brock chuckles, but his eyes are cold. “I'll let you fine people get back to your conversation. Cassandra, I hope we can chat again later.”

  She nods and smiles, but she doesn’t seem overly taken with the bastard’s good looks and charm like most women are. Good girl.

  Gi and Jordan mingle with guests until the appetizers are served and then sit down with us. We’re eating crab-stuffed mushrooms and goat cheese tarts when Cassandra leans in with wide-eyed innocence to ask if there will be Ring Dings for dessert. She thinks she’s one-upped me until she feels my hand under the table, sliding up her dress and caressing her thigh till she gasps.

  That’ll teach her.

  Dall seems to sense that I want him to keep his distance. Sheryl’s loosened up with a few drinks, draping her arms over Brock's shoulders. I relax a bit, too, enjoying the main course with Cassandra—coconut-crusted chicken for me and seared sea scallops for her. Champagne glasses are filled, and then I stand up to make the toast.

  “I'd like to first thank Brenda and the good people of Bent Brook for putting on such a fine party on short notice. I'm very grateful. And secondly, I'd like to thank all of you for being here to celebrate Gianna and Jordan's engagement. It's no secret that I was initially a little taken aback when my little sister announced she was engaged—but it was more of a reflection of me not wanting to admit she was ready for this. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I can be just a bit protective. Right, Gi?”