Point of Release

by Remy Landon

  You don't mean that. And let me make myself clear—I need to see you, and I also need to hold you, kiss you, touch you, and make love to you. I need to show you how much you mean to me.

  Her eyes burned with sudden tears as her heart clenched with rage. How dare he do this to her? He was fucking with her again. That's all this was. Probably another game. For all she knew, he had a bet with someone to see if he could get her back.

  Cassandra jabbed her thumbs at the keyboard. She would not waste more than one fucking word on him. She would use the goddamned safe word: ENOUGH.

  She waited, her chest heaving. There was no response. Good. Maybe the son of a bitch got it this time. And now, she really needed to get to work—keep busy, stay in the present, look toward the future. A future without Carlo Leone.

  Her eyes were still brimming. She blinked viciously, walking out of her bedroom to the entryway. There was another note stuck to the door that she hadn't noticed when she came in. In block letters, this statement: YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK.

  She wrapped her mind around the words and clung to them, hard.

  chapter seven ~ Carlo

  Carlo's office door opened and his secretary strode briskly in, carrying a cup of steaming coffee. She placed it on his desk and stepped back, a slight frown on her thin lips. Rubbing his eyes, Carlo looked up from his computer and managed a grin. “You never bring me coffee, and this is the second time in the past week.”

  “I know. I fought it tooth and nail, believe me. But it was apparent you needed it this morning. Don't expect that this will be a regular occurrence, however.” Estelle folded her arms primly across her chest, arching an eyebrow behind her royal blue glasses. “You're not sleeping well?”

  “No.”

  “Care to discuss it yet?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like me to set up an appointment with your doctor? Perhaps he can prescribe something again.”

  “No, thanks...trying to ride this one out on my own. And I need to stay clearheaded.” He sipped at his coffee.

  Estelle sighed, looking down to pick a piece of lint from her black pencil skirt. “All right. I suppose that's admirable.” She paused, then probed gently. “Maybe things aren't as dire as they seem, Carlo. The saying 'when life gives you lemons' comes to mind.”

  He laughed softly and shook his head. “Sorry, Estelle, but I'm not tasting any sweetness just yet—only sour.”

  “You know I'm here for you.”

  “You do realize you've always been the only woman for me, don't you?”

  “Thank you. I'll be sure to keep that from Martin. I wouldn't want to make him insanely jealous.”

  “I'm guessing Martin isn't the jealous type.”

  “Your assumption is correct. He's a wonderful man, in all respects.”

  “Including in bed?”

  “I said in all respects. I'll leave that to your vivid imagination. And I'm glad to see that your playful, if not completely inappropriate, banter has resurfaced. Must mean there's hope for you.” Estelle moved to the large Boston fern at the window and lifted a frond to inspect it. “Unlike this plant. This is looking rather dreadful again, Carlo.”

  “Yes. I'm clearly not cut out to take care of anything.”

  “Anything with leaves, yes. You take care of other things just fine.”

  “I'm afraid I've fucked up recently, Estelle. In a significant way.”

  She glared at him. “You know how I feel about that word, Carlo.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Accepted. Explain this significant transgression you made.”

  “Let's just say I hurt someone.”

  “Would this 'someone' happen to have two X chromosomes?” She was looking at him knowingly.

  He flashed her a rueful smile, raising the coffee cup to his lips. “Your assumption is correct.”

  “Is your transgression fixable?”

  “I don't know. I had hoped it would be, but this is a major fuck-up. Sorry,” he added hastily.

  Estelle looked at him sternly for a few seconds before speaking. “I would suggest leaving no stone unturned when it comes to matters of the heart, Carlo.”

  “I'm not ready to give up, if that's what you mean.”

  “I'm glad to hear it. Changing subjects...remember that you have the cigar dinner at Bent Brook this weekend.”

  “That's this weekend?” He grimaced. He had attended for the past several years—usually with Brock—but the thought of making inane conversation and listening to off-color jokes with a group of inebriated men seemed especially unappealing. “I'll probably skip it.”

  “You had invited David Shillings to join you.”

  Shit. Shillings was a new distributor out of Hartford, still in the corporate wine-and-dine phase. He liked to party, and canceling on him this late was not an option.

  “All right. I guess I'm going, then. Thanks for the reminder.”

  Estelle nodded. “It might be good for you, to get out. Even in a room filled with carcinogens and a bunch of drunken men in Tommy Bahama casual attire.” She smiled wryly. “I'll be back to water your fern later. Enjoy your coffee, Carlo.” She pursed her lips as she closed the door behind her.

  Carlo leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. Thank God for Estelle, for her sharp, biting wit that drilled through the bullshit and turmoil in his life and pinned him solidly down.

  He'd taken care of the Brock situation—that had turned out to be the easy part, although he had expected to hear from the former president of Miller Valve. Dall must have been too scared that Carlo would make good on his threat to sue him for giving away a company secret.

  The challenge, of course, was Cassandra. She had always been a challenge, since the first day they met, but now...there was no enjoyment or arousal in trying to win her back, most likely because his confidence had slipped away the moment she had ended their relationship. And because he had hurt her deeply. There was instead despair, guilt, and stabs of fear. It was unwelcome and unsettling as hell, and it reminded him of previous loss.

  Shuddering involuntarily, he leaned forward over his desk, clenching his fists. He could not allow himself to get to that point again. He'd need to be very, very careful while trying to get Cassandra back. Most of all, he needed to simply survive.

  But Cassandra had awakened in him more than just the need to survive. He wanted to live, and feel—something that had been lying dormant in him for a long time. She didn't know how major a change this was for him, because she hadn't heard everything. He needed the chance to tell her, so that maybe she would understand and let him back in her life.

  He remembered telling her early on, I always get what I want. He had gotten himself to a point where he'd been arrogant enough to believe this, and maybe that's what was lacking now—his self-assuredness. He needed to get that back. It was what drew women (including Cassandra) to him in the first place. It was like business: you couldn't sell what you didn't believe in, and if you didn't believe in it, you sure as fuck had to fake it until you did.

  Cassandra didn't know what she wanted. But he did. He needed to be sure enough for both of them. He'd given up too easily, that last time, when she'd texted back, Enough. From this point on, he would be relentless, exploring every avenue to make this up to her and win her back. He would not give up until he was absolutely sure that there was no chance and no other options.

  The door opened, startling him. Estelle again, carrying with her a watering can and a small package sealed with wide, clear tape. “This just came for you,” she said, holding the box out to him.

  “I'm hoping it's not a bomb,” he said, straight-faced.

  “That was my first thought.”

  There was no return address. He opened his desk drawer and took out a pair of scissors, slicing the tape and opening the package. Inside the small cardboard box were two smaller jewelry boxes. Tiffany's, and Nordstrom's. He knew immediately what was inside.

>   Estelle, busying herself with watering the Boston fern, spoke in a light, casual tone. “A gift?”

  “A returned gift. As expected.”

  There was no note, which was a strong message in and of itself—just the necklace, bracelet and earrings he had given to Cassandra the night of his sister's engagement party, He sighed, fingering the grooves on the bracelet, remembering how the pendant had looked against her creamy skin, hanging inches above the tantalizing shadow between her breasts. He had been spellbound by how stunning she had looked that night. There had been tenderness between them, and he had made her laugh.

  But now...his lips drew together in a grim line as he stared down at the jewelry. It had lost its allure. Cassandra was what had made it so beautiful.

  “Carlo.” Estelle's firm but gentle voice brought him back into the moment. “You've tasted bitter. Now find the sweet.”

  He looked up at her and nodded. She knew, as well as he did, there was no other choice.

  chapter eight ~ Cassandra

  “You need to make a list,” Allison said, her round face glistening with a sheen of sweat as she and Cassandra rolled silverware in the break room.

  “A list?”

  “Yeah. A list of things you want to accomplish. It'll put you in a good frame of mind. You know, to stay positive.”

  Nodding, Cassandra took a long drink from the straw in her pitcher of ice water. “That sounds like a good idea. I feel like I've been just kind of drifting and need a focus.”

  “So you and the Italian Stallion are definitely over.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your face just changed when you said that, sweetie.”

  “Well¸ it's hard, I'll admit it. I had really started to—care for him.”

  “I know. I could tell. Maybe the more you say that it's over, the more you'll believe it yourself.” Allison's eyes softened. “At least that's the theory, anyway. And I honestly don't blame you a bit—if he betrayed your trust like you said, you can't have that. I've been there, honey, and I know how much it hurts. You're worth more than that. I'm just sorry it didn't work out...you'd light up whenever he was in here and when you'd talk about him—it seemed like you two had something special.”

  Cassandra picked up a fork and knife, laying it on a napkin. “It sucks that just when I was ready to admit I had feelings for him, it went all to hell. But I'm going to move on. I have to.” She wrapped up the silverware and placed it in the basket, smiling brightly at Allison. “So...about this list. Maybe we can come up with a few things before our break ends.”

  “Okay. What sort of goals do you have for yourself, like personally?”

  “Um...well, since I can't make myself develop amnesia, I guess I'd say I can learn from this, and move on with my life.”

  “And what did you learn? Besides that David Gandy has a twin, and Italian men are smokin'.”

  “Besides that, I learned that I was willing to take risks...like in the romance department. He—he was able to get me to be more open to things. He awakened something in me that I didn't know was there.” She blushed furiously at Allison's raised eyebrows and collected herself. “I was also willing to take a risk with my heart. Which I hadn't dared to do in a long time. And even though this hurts like hell, and it's so goddamned hard, I feel like I can get through it, and will come out stronger.”

  “Girl, I'm impressed! Do you really think that?”

  Cassandra grinned in spite of herself. “Honestly? Most of the time, no. But just saying it makes me feel...I don't know...empowered, I guess.”

  “Empowered is good! Empowered is awesome, actually. What else do you have for goals?”

  “I want to take charge of my life. Be a stronger person. Make more friends...do more fun things.”

  “This is a great start.” Allison beamed, reaching out to squeeze Cassandra's arm. “I'm proud of you, doll. Sorry if I sound more like your mom than your fat waitress friend, but I feel the need to mother someone since lately, my frigging kids aren't letting me.”

  Cassandra burst into laughter. “First of all, you're not fat, and second of all...I appreciate you helping me, Al. It's times like these that I really miss my mom.” Her throat thickened, and she swallowed.

  Allison's face crumpled in sympathy. “Oh, sweetheart—come here.” She enveloped Cassandra in a bear hug and rocked her from side to side in the type of gentle sway that only mothers knew how to do.

  “Hey...I don't want to interrupt this tender Hallmark moment, but a big party of bowlers just came in, so break's over.” Bruce, the manager of Tucker's, leaned against the door frame of the break room, his gray hair in its usual state of disarray, a perpetual frown on his face. Bruce looked pissed ninety-nine percent of the time, but there was a big teddy bear beneath his gruff exterior.

  “Just some girl talk, Brucie,” Allison said, giving Cassandra a loud kiss on the cheek before letting her go. Cassandra smoothed her hair bun and blinked back tears as she fastened her apron around her waist. She knew herself well enough to realize she needed to let out her emotions once in a while, like a pressure cooker needs to release steam, but for now, she needed to put a lid on her pain and do her job.

  Bruce's pale blue eyes registered concern as she walked out of the room. “You okay?”

  “I will be,” she said, giving him a small smile.

  “Yes, she will,” Allison stated firmly, patting Bruce's ample belly as she followed Cassandra into the restaurant.

  The bowlers were taking up a good deal of the red room. Kelly and Meagan, the other waitresses, were starting to take drink orders.

  “I'll help out with the pinheads here. Why don't you go check out the jukebox section?”

  “Okay.” Cassandra took her pad and pen from her apron pocket and walked briskly to the front of the restaurant. An older couple was sitting in the corner booth, their menus pushed to the edge of the table in the classic we're ready to order signal. The white-haired man facing her looked familiar, and he wrinkled his brow as if trying to figure out who Cassandra was as she approached. Smiling, she began to greet them, and then drew in her breath as she realized who they were.

  “Cassandra,” Carlo's secretary said, a look of surprised pleasure on her face. “How nice to see you.”

  “Estelle! And Martin. How are you?”

  Martin was looking from Cassandra to Estelle, a confused smile on his ruddy face. He doesn't know who I am, Cassandra thought. And how was she supposed to explain it?

  Estelle saved her. “We're doing well, thank you. Martin, you remember Cassandra—she was Carlo's date at Gianna's engagement party.”

  There. That was harmless enough.

  “Oh! Knew I'd seen this lovely girl, just couldn't place her.” He smiled broadly, extending a hand for her to shake.

  “How have you been?” Estelle's expression was bright, but her eyes were veiled with concern.

  So she knew something. Who knows what Carlo had said, but she could bet it was the minimum, given how private he was. And that it was he who had caused all of this.

  “I've been fine, thank you.” Good. Her tone sounded strong, cheerful. She took their drink order and walked away to get it, pleased that she could remain poised.

  Allison smiled at her as they crossed paths near the bar. “Doing okay, honey?”

  Cassandra paused to shrug. “Yeah...I guess. I'm actually waiting on Carlo's secretary and her date.”

  “Ooh, seriously? Is that awkward?”

  “Not bad. She's so kind—I really like her, and I think she might know something. She looks like she feels sorry.” Had Carlo sent Estelle to check up on her? Cassandra quickly dismissed the thought; Estelle didn't seem the spy-and-report-back type and had acted genuinely surprised to see her.

  Allison shifted her tray on her shoulder. “Well, hopefully she'll tell the Italian that you're doing just fine without him.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I wish you could somehow find out how he is.”

  Cassandra raised her chin. “I do
n't care, remember?”

  “Shit, sorry...I lost my head there for a sec. You're absolutely right. It's over. Forget I said that—guess I'm just a little curious.” Flashing Cassandra an apologetic smile, she added, “We can work more on your list later, maybe at the end of the night. Think about some professional goals for yourself. 'Cause there's no way in hell you want to end up like me, working here for the rest of your life.”

  “Agreed. But no offense,” Cassandra winked.

  When she brought Estelle and Martin's check to them at the end of their meal, Estelle smiled warmly and reached out to squeeze her hand. “Thank you for your wonderful service. It was so nice to see you.”

  “Likewise.” She held Estelle's gaze longer than she intended, feeling a current of understanding flowing between them, until she became dangerously close to tears. She said goodbye to the two of them and waited until they had left to go back and clear their table. They had left her a generous tip. And something else.

  A note on a napkin, written with a pen in elegant, cursive handwriting: He misses you.

  chapter nine ~ Carlo

  She had returned the jewelry he had given her, so he wouldn't go that route, and she had made it clear that she wasn't into material things. But every woman, Carlo believed, could be moved by a man's thoughtfulness and effort.

  He checked his phone for the time and sat down on his black Bugatti sofa. 7:30. Early for Saturday morning, but Ingrid would undoubtedly be up—most likely even at the stable. He dialed her number.

  “Shouldn't you be sleeping in? It's Saturday.” Ingrid's voice was brisk as she chided him.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  “You know I don't sleep in. Which is why you knew you could call me this early.”

  “You're right. Are you at the stable?”

  “On my way. Cassandra had the turn-out chore this morning. I'm going to need to hire another stablehand soon—my stepsister, Sonya, is leaving for Europe, and she's been full of excuses lately about how she has to get ready for her trip, how final exams are going to cut into the time she can work, et cetera, et cetera.” Ingrid sighed. “I do love the girl, but her work ethic leaves a great deal to be desired.” She paused. “I'm assuming it's all right with you that I find someone else?”