by Remy Landon
Cassandra checked her phone for the time as she hurried to the bathroom. 5:40. Carlo would be here in less than an hour. Shivers danced up her spine as she reached in her pocket for the envelope, put it on the counter and undressed.
The hot water cascaded over her, and she sleeked it away from her face and hair, imagining Carlo's hands on her skin, caressing, teasing, tweaking—a perfect concoction of pleasure fringed with a hint of pain. Soon, this would be more than just a fantasy.
Stepping out of the shower, Cassandra wrapped a towel around her head, turban-style. She'd already decided what to wear: her silky, jade green blouse, a snug pair of faded jeans, and her ivory-colored lace bra and panties. She dressed quickly, put a handful of mousse in her towel-dried hair and scrunched, smiling. Two could play the tousled game. Light makeup, a quick application of clear lip gloss, and earrings—her big silver hoops. What was it her friend Teal always said? The bigger the hoop, the bigger the ho. She grinned. Given the way she was feeling right now, this seemed quite appropriate.
So now, she was ready. Ready for Carlo, obviously, and ready to discover what Brock wanted to share with her. Excitement level kicked into high gear, she went to the bedroom for her laptop, the envelope in hand. As always, her bed was neatly made, and she felt a warmth spreading through her at the thought of Carlo lying in it with her.
Cassandra propped up a few of the blue and green throw pillows against her headboard, settling back with the computer in her lap. Now, for the card. She removed it from the envelope and inserted it carefully into her laptop, her chest fluttery with anticipation. Scanning the desktop, she found the SD card folder and opened it. There was one file...a video. A still shot—of her, and Carlo.
Eyes widening, she drew in her breath. Her heart began to thud wildly. What was this? When did this take...
And then she knew. They were entering Carlo's bedroom. The last night they were together.
She clicked the play button and began to watch.
“Vanilla?”
It was surreal, watching herself look up at Carlo as she asked him about the scent in his bedroom. Hearing his voice on the video made her heart clutch.
“Yes. The candles. Vanilla is known to increase sexual stimulation in both men and women.”
“That's an interesting bit of trivia. You seem to have thought of everything...”
Cassandra put her hands on either side of the laptop, gripping hard. The sexual tension between them was almost palpable, even viewing it on screen. She felt detached, as if she was watching two strangers dancing the tango for the first time, her thoughts splintering into a thousand different directions trying to make sense of all of this.
“I want to be able to hear every sound you make.”
A sigh from her in the video.
“Like that sound, for example.” And then Carlo took her in his arms, his mouth kissing up and down her neck. Cassandra found herself quivering with the memory, just as she had trembled that night, filled with incredible want for him.
“Cassandra,” he was saying. “You need to trust me.”
She began to shake, her mouth cottony with the dread that was mounting inside her.
Brock had given her this SD card. He knew about this night.
Her mind traveled back to his note, stumbling over the phrases that appeared in front of her like concrete blocks.
The two of us have enjoyed an ongoing, spirited competition.
There have been many participants I've had the pleasure of seeing, but I have to say, you are the best by far.
You are the best by far.
What had Brock seen? Her stomach lurched as she used the cursor to advance the video.
She was lying naked across Carlo's lap on the loveseat. “I want you to stay completely still,” he was telling her. “And completely silent. You are not permitted to make any sound whatsoever, or there will be additional consequences. Do you understand?”
“No,” Cassandra said, her voice a choked cry. “No.” She watched, agonized, as he began to spank her, the sound of each slap making her jump. She hadn't moved then; she had wanted so desperately to please him.
Although the video was not finished, she could not bear to see any more. The safe word she was to use with Carlo that night came to mind: enough.
Closing her laptop, Cassandra shoved it away from her as she began to shake harder. Drawing knees to chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging herself. She had been more exposed, more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life, and she had been videoed. And Brock had seen it.
The ugly realization that Carlo had shared their intimate night with his colleague pierced her to the very core. Why had Carlo done this? She had given herself to him! Totally and completely, despite all of her reservations and misgivings. And he had betrayed her trust, leaving her feeling shattered, violated. Dirty.
“How could you?” she whispered into the cold silence of her room. “How could you do this to me?”
The doorbell rang. She would have her answer soon.
chapter three ~ Carlo
By the time he had arrived at Cassandra's doorstep, Carlo was feeling almost hopeful. There was every chance, he had managed to convince himself on the drive over, that he was going to be in time—that Brock hadn't gotten to her yet. He had brought himself to the very edge of despair agonizing over the possibility of losing her, but he was feeling much more confident and relaxed as he rang her doorbell.
Had it not been for this turn of events, he would have brought her flowers. He wanted to do things like this for her—give her jewelry, buy her designer clothes, take her on a shopping spree. Anything to make her feel special, appreciated and wanted—although even as he considered this, he knew she was not like other women. She liked simple and sensible and had proven herself refreshingly easy to please. Christ, the woman preferred Pop-Tarts over Prada. A slight grin flickered on his lips. Cassandra was one of a kind. Hopefully, there would be many instances in the future where he could show her he understood this.
A rotund maintenance worker with a receding hairline and large eyeglasses was walking toward him, carrying a toolkit. He stopped, smiling congenially. “You here to see Cassandra?”
Carlo nodded, giving the man a terse smile and rang the doorbell again, his uneasiness intensifying with each second that passed.
The man thrust out his hand at Carlo. “I'm Norman.”
Carlo shook his hand and introduced himself.
“Cassandra's the best, isn't she?” Norman was beaming as if he had something to do with it.
“None better,” Carlo said, with total sincerity. Norman seemed pleased with Carlo's response and continued on his way, whistling.
Carlo took his phone out of his jacket pocket to check the time. 6:23. Seven minutes early, but she had been expecting him. And then the doorknob turned. His heart leapt in his chest, a smile beginning to spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again, holding her...
Cassandra stood in front of him in a green blouse and jeans, her auburn hair framing her face in loose curls. His throat closed at the sight of her. She was ashen and unsmiling, her aquamarine eyes locking with his in a cold, steely gaze.
She knew.
The pleasure he had felt just seconds ago from seeing her was obliterated by her stare. He flinched as he realized how challenging eye contact had been for her when he would command it, but the tables had been turned. Now, it was he who could not bear to look at her.
Her voice was barely audible when she spoke, but even so, he startled. “I thought of sending you away, but I want to hear it.”
“And I want to talk to you, Cassandra.”
She looked so small and lost, but there was also fierce anger emanating from her. She was trembling, wrapping her arms around herself. God, how he wanted to fix this fucking mess he'd created. He was consumed by the urge to sweep her into his arms, bury his face in her thick, beautiful hair and hold her until she forgave him.
Wordlessly,
she moved away from the door, and he stepped inside. Although they were only a few feet apart, there was a cavernous distance between them. He followed her into the small, cottage-style living room and sat down in an overstuffed floral armchair as she sat on the pale blue couch. This time, Cassandra was in charge.
He watched as she reached into her pocket and thrust her hand at him. She was holding the SD card. “I seem to have something that belongs to you.”
His jaw clenched.
“Don't I, Carlo?” Her voice was shrill.
“I believe so, yes.”
“Explain this to me—how you get to a point in your life where you take a video of yourself fucking someone. Not only fucking someone, but making her dothings that are incredibly private and that are supposed to be between just those two people. I want to know how the fuck you could do this.” She flung the card across the room.
Struggling to find the words, he opened his mouth to speak. He felt totally, utterly gutted—to see her like this and know that he was the cause. “I developed the need to dominate women—to be in control,” he said flatly.
“No shit,” she snapped. “I already know that. I'm talking about the fucking video, Carlo. And how Brock knew about it.”
Hearing his former colleague's name was a knife in his heart. He would deal with that fucking bastard later. “Brock and I used to have a...contest.”
“So that's the 'spirited competition' he referred to in the note he gave me?”
“Yes.”
“What was the contest about?”
“Cassandra—you have to believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you.”
She shook her head, laughing bitterly. “That has to be one of the lamest fucking lines I ever heard. It's what people say when they know they've already hurt the person. They actually think everything will be fine if they say it—like 'oh, whoops, I didn't mean to hurt you when I took a video of me spanking you and then shared it with my co-worker.' You actually think I'm going to go for that?” She paused, her voice turning harsh. “I'll ask again: what was the contest about?”
As difficult as this was going to be, Cassandra deserved complete honesty. He would give her nothing less. “We would each find a woman whom we perceived to be a challenge. The contest was to see who could get his woman to submit first.”
Cassandra's eyes were round with incredulity. She was rigid on the couch, her shoulders squared as if to brace herself against his words. “Submit?”
“Yes. Sexually.”
Her voice was a whisper. “Explain. I want to know everything.”
“Once we chose our women, the contest started. We would decide what the winner would get, and we would have to provide proof in the way of photos.”
“Or videos.”
“We hadn't done videos before. Until this last time.”
“Oh! I must be extra-special, then.”
He winced at her tone. “The only reason I agreed to the video was because I needed to prove something.”
“Prove something? Like what?” Cassandra snorted. “That you're a controlling asshole who toys with innocent women?”
Touché. “I wanted to prove that I could go through with it. So I could show myself that you were just like all the other women.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking directly into her eyes. “But I couldn't do it. Which is why I told you, enough.”
“And you never saw anything wrong with using women in this way? Like objects.”
“The women never knew. They were rewarded, and we always parted on good terms. I was able to justify it this way.”
“How convenient for you. How many women were there?”
He shifted in the chair. “I don't know, exactly. Maybe ten.”
“So you and Brock decided on prizes in this contest?”
“It wasn't about the prizes. It was about the challenge.”
“And you decided I would be challenging for you.” Her hands were in fists in her lap.
“Yes.”
“So how was I, Carlo? Was I everything you hoped for?”
“Cassandra—”
“No, tell me! I want to know, did we win?” Her face was flushed, eyes blazing.
“I ended the contest and told Brock I was done with it for good. He was never supposed to see that video. I had planned to destroy it, but I'd been so damned preoccupied struggling with what I was feeling, I got distracted. Brock had my housekeeper steal the SD card because I fired him, and he wanted revenge.”
She searched his eyes with hers as if trying to comprehend what he was saying, then lowered her head and covered her face with her hands. Carlo watched and waited, immobilized with helplessness.
When she looked up at him again, her cheeks were stained with tears. “I can't believe how easy it was for you to tell me all of this.”
“Easy? For Christ's sake, Cassandra, this has been one of the most difficult things I've ever faced. Nothing about this is easy. I may seem like I'm detached from it because I am. Our relationship quickly became much more than a game, in my mind. I don't associate you with the contest.”
“But that's not the issue, Carlo. It's that I associate you with it.”
The words, although spoken quietly, stung.
“I associate you with deceit, and betrayal, and humiliation.”
“Cassandra—I was going to be honest with you. I knew that in order for us to have any kind of relationship, I needed to be up front with you about the game, but Brock—” Just the very mention of his name made Carlo grind his teeth. “He got to you first.” Leaning forward in his chair, he clasped his hands tightly. He had to make her understand. “How we ended up was completely different than where I thought it would go. I didn't expect to do anything other than enjoy you and move on. I didn't expect to have feelings for you...I don't do feelings.”
Cassandra was utterly still, staring past him. Even now, God...she was so fucking beautiful.
He continued. “I didn't want you to find out like this. I wanted to be the one to tell you. And as fucked-up as it sounds, Cassandra, I've needed this game. Not that anything can justify it, but hopefully once you hear more, you'll be able to understand. Please let me explain.”
Jesus, he was actually pleading. She turned to meet his gaze, lips parted slightly and the space between her eyebrows furrowed. Her expression had softened. Maybe he was getting through to her, maybe she could sense how desperately he wanted to make this right.
“There was an event in my past that—”
She exploded, leaping up from the couch and rushing at him, arms flailing, as he stood up to face her. “You fucking son of a bitch! I trusted you! I told you I'd been hurt before, and you knew I was vulnerable. And you betrayed me. You not only betrayed me, you fucking humiliatedme.” Her fury was white-hot, brilliant, burning. “I don't give a fuck what happened in your past. All I care about is how you are treating me now.”
“You need to listen to me, Cassandra—please let me talk to you.” Carlo took a step forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. She recoiled from his touch and shoved him back.
“I don't need to do fucking anything. I played your game, and you may have won your disgusting contest, but you've lost me.” Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes. She jabbed her hair behind her ears and pointed toward the door with a shaking arm. “You're not in control of me any more, Carlo. Get...out.”
Her words pelted him like hailstones. There was no way he was getting through to her—at least not tonight. He should have expected this; he deserved her reaction. But it rocked him to his core.
She had turned toward the wall, sobbing, her shoulders jerking with each breath she took.
“Cassandra,” he murmured. “I'm deeply sorry. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”
Walking out of the apartment, Carlo felt heavy with guilt and regret. There was someone who deserved to share in this, who deserved to feel the extent of his outrage, and he would go to this person now, to lighten his load.
<
br /> chapter four ~ Cassandra
Most of the time, Cassandra preferred to be alone to deal with things, but this was too big for just one person to handle. The pendulum of emotions had swung from being almost giddy with excitement at seeing Carlo to the shock, grief and rage she was feeling now. There was also a layer of self-directed anger—for ever even thinking she could open herself up to someone as dark and enigmatic as Carlo Leone. She should have known better.
Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she picked up her phone. Seeing it was Saturday night, her friend was most likely out clubbing, but if Teal knew that Cassandra needed her, she'd be over in a heartbeat. She was the sweetest that way.
Can you come over? I really need you and can't talk about it on the phone. She sent the text, went into the kitchen and sank into one of the pine chairs, wiping at her eyes. She had never felt so enraged before. It scared her. And it had obviously affected Carlo, from the look on his face. Through her fury, she could see that he, too, was devastated. His smoke-colored eyes had been wide and pleading, and there had been desperation in his tone—then dull resignation, when she had ordered him to leave.
A response from Teal: Aww, girlfriend!! I'm at Nocturnem but leaving now. Be there in 20. Love you lots! xoxo
Cassandra leaned over the kitchen table, crossing her arms and resting her head on them as she sought to untangle the clusterfuck that this evening—her life—had become. She was teeming with anguish and restlessness, torn between wanting to curl up in a weeping ball under the covers and wanting to just bolt—drive somewhere, far away, where no one would find her. Teal would hopefully bring clarity, and comfort, and reassurance that everything would be all right.
She was coming out of the bathroom when the doorbell rang. Teal, already? Or Carlo, wanting to talk again? Uneasily, she went to the door and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Relief; it was Teal.
Unlocking the door, Cassandra felt the tears start again. Her friend quickly took off her black leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack, looking taller than normal in her high-heeled boots.