Point of Submission

by Remy Landon

Jesus Christ, he was smooth. Water-rippling-over-rocks smooth. Well, she wasn't about to let him get the best of her. Two could play that game. “I hate to tell you, but you have holes in your shorts.”

  His face broke into a surprised and delighted smile. “Excuse me?”

  The dimple. Cassandra bit her lip. “I thought you should know.”

  “Thank you. But I paid a lot of money for those holes.”

  Cassandra grinned in spite of herself. “I'm sure you did. So you came to see me. And I'm guessing you're not going to tell me how you knew when I'd get out of work. Although I think I have the answer.”

  “I'll never tell. But I decided it would be better to meet up with you here, instead of at the stable. I'd prefer you to smell like food rather than horses.”

  “You shouldn't be hating on horses. Especially since you own a stable full of them.”

  His eyebrows arching in surprise, Carlo took off his sunglasses and looked down at his hands as he folded the earpieces. “So you found out.”

  “Yes. Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I thought it best that you didn't know. I didn't want to intimidate you.”

  “I'm sure I could have handled it. I don't get intimidated easily.” She felt herself bristle as she raised her chin.

  “All right.” He was smiling broadly.

  “I'm serious.”

  “I can see that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm a rather private person.”

  “So. Back to why you're here. Were you planning to save me again?”

  “It depends on how you'd define 'save.'”

  Cassandra reached up to tighten her ponytail. She opened her mouth to speak and was chagrined to realize she had absolutely no idea what to say.

  “Feeling intimidated?”

  She huffed indignantly. “Um, no. Not at all.”

  “Perplexed, then. But I have to say, it's a very charming look for you.” He took a step closer. “Would you like to go for a drive?”

  “What would that involve?” She could hear Teal's imaginary voice urging her on: Jesus Christ, what are you waiting for? Get in the goddamned car!

  His eyes were traveling over her face as he answered her seriously. “It would involve you in the passenger seat and me at the wheel, and the car moving forward. And sometimes turning and stopping as required by law.”

  Cassandra stifled a laugh. He made it so effing difficult for her to be cautious and sensible. “I see. And what would you be hoping to get out of this drive?”

  She drew in her breath as Carlo left his car and walked toward her. He stopped a foot away from her, crossing his arms in front of him. The thin fabric of his t-shirt strained against his muscles. His gaze was warm. “Cassandra, there are two things I hope to get out of this drive. One is your phone number. And the other is for you to view me in a different light.”

  “A different light meaning...?”

  “I want you to see that I'm not a threat to you. It's obvious you've been hurt before, and this has made you reluctant to let your guard down. I want to change that.” He paused, looking intently into her eyes, and his voice was soft and low. “I'm just asking for a chance. Let me in, Cassandra. And then you can decide if I can stay.”

  She swallowed, her pulse thrumming in her ears. There were so many reasons she should say no. But at this moment, she couldn't think of one of them.

  “All right,” she answered slowly. “A drive. Just a short one. And then we'll see.”

  The look of pleasure on his face was instantaneous. He walked around the car to open the door for her, as if she was wearing an elegant gown and heels instead of her waitressing uniform.

  As expected, the convertible's interior was spotless. The car had soft, woven, black leather upholstery with red stitching, a pushbutton start and an impressively elaborate dashboard. Cassandra reached for her seatbelt and leaned back against the supple leather.

  “Is the seat too far back? You can adjust it if you want. The wind shouldn't bother you, but if it does, let me know, and I'll put the top up. And this has Sirius radio, so listen to whatever you want.”

  “Thank you. The dashboard looks a bit more complicated than my Chevy Malibu.”

  Carlo grinned. “It does have some nice features.”

  “It looks like a spaceship. Where are we going?” Now that they were on the road, Cassandra allowed herself the tiniest of shudders.

  “I thought we'd head up 72. You don't have a hot date later, do you?” He looked bemused.

  “I told you I wasn't interested in having a relationship.”

  “How have you managed to stay unattached? I find it hard to believe there aren't men constantly after you.”

  She blushed and shifted in her seat. “I don't make myself available. And maybe I'm not as appealing as you seem to think I am.”

  Carlo took his eyes off the road to glance at her. “You don't get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “How beautiful you are.”

  “Can we please talk about something else? You, for example?”

  “If we have to.”

  “So you own Windswept Stable.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you're also the CEO of Miller Valve.”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Someone's been doing some research.”

  “No. I heard from Ingrid's stepsister.”

  “That would be correct.”

  “You're pretty young to have that position, aren't you?”

  “There are many who would agree with you. I took over when my stepfather died.”

  “Oh...I'm sorry.”

  “Thanks. I am, too. He was a wonderful man. I never really knew my biological father...he died when I was a toddler. Scott was my father figure. He taught me a great deal.”

  “He must have, if you were able to take over at such a young age.”

  “I'd like to think part of my success comes from my own talents. Taking over is something I've become quite good at. And it's something I enjoy as well.”

  Cassandra was aware of his gaze sliding over to her, but she turned her head to look out the window, willing herself to focus on the hills and farmland instead of the warmth spreading through the lower part of her.

  They passed an Amish buggy on the side of the road, pulled by a weary-looking Standardbred. Carlo made sure to give them a wide berth, and the driver of the buggy touched the brim of his hat in thanks.

  Cassandra frowned. “That horse looks thin.”

  “I noticed that, too.”

  “If I could only control the world.”

  “You don't seem the controlling type.”

  “Is that an insult, or a compliment?”

  “Neither. It's an observation.”

  “You make a lot of observations.”

  “Is that an insult, or a compliment?” Carlo flashed a smile.

  Cassandra felt herself begin to melt into the seat but quickly recovered. “Well-played.”

  “Thank you.” He paused. “I realize this is supposed to be a drive, but would you mind if we stopped for just a bit? I find it difficult to look at you when I'm supposed to be keeping my eyes on the road. And I really want to look at you.”

  Fuck. Why, why, had she agreed to get in the car? Her resistance was weakening. But she couldn't let him know this. She made herself turn to look at him, deciding to focus on his ear as that was non-sexual and relatively safe. But like everything else about him, that, too, was perfect.

  “Stopping during the drive was not part of the original plan.”

  “I know. Just for a few minutes.”

  She hesitated.

  “Cassandra. The first time I kiss you is not going to be in a car—I can assure you of that.”

  So there would be no kiss. Cassandra was dismayed to discover that her relief was tinged with something dangerously close to disappointment.

  “Okay. We can stop. But then I need you to take me back.”

  “Deal.” Carlo was smiling as he clicked on
his blinker and turned onto West Brubaker Valley Road.

  Speedwell Forge Lake was a popular destination in Lancaster County for canoeists and kayakers. As the last remnants of dusk were enveloped by the night, the lake was still and quiet, with only a few cars in the parking lot. A thirty-ish man and woman were walking hand in hand near the boat landing. As Carlo pulled in to the upper part of the lot, Cassandra felt her stomach lurch with uneasiness.

  Carlo turned off the car and shifted in his seat to face her. The streetlight bathed his face in a silvery glow so that he looked almost statuesque. He was jaw-droppingly beautiful. His expression was serious, his eyebrows drawn together.

  “I first want to thank you for letting me bring you here. I know you were reluctant, and I can't say as I blame you. You don't know me...it was a risk for you to get in my car. I understand that, and I'm glad that you trusted me enough to do it. I'm asking you for a bit more.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to protest, but Carlo interrupted her, his hand raised.

  “Before you say anything, you need to realize that I'm not looking for a serious relationship. I know you don't want that in your life right now, and neither do I. I'm just asking to get to know you better. I'm...drawn to you, and I know you feel the same way about me.”

  Rattled and indignant, she inched away to press herself against the car door. “That's a little presumptuous, don't you think? You don't know anything about me.”

  “I know that you want me.” His voice was husky. “Are you going to deny that?”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as Carlo reached for her hand and turned it over.

  “We're not that different from one another, Cassandra. We have a few things in common. For one, our initials.” With feather-soft strokes, he traced a C and an L on her palm. His touch was electric.

  She had never known a man who was able to incite such a reaction in her by simply stroking her hand. Christ, what would it do to her to actually be with him?

  “A date, Cassandra,” he said softly. “Just a date, and we'll go from there.” His hand closed over hers, clasping it gently.

  “I don't date,” she answered weakly. “I don't have good luck with men.”

  “I'm not like other men. And I think you know that.”

  I don't know anything anymore. But that wasn't entirely true, Cassandra realized. She did know one thing: reluctant or not, she would go on a date with Carlo Leone. And even before she gave him a barely perceptible nod, she realized that he knew it, too.

  chapter twelve ~ Carlo

  “Thanks for asking me to lunch, fratello. It worked out perfectly since I had a hair appointment in Lancaster anyway.”

  Carlo and his sister were at Tucker's, even though it wasn't Cassandra's day to work. As foolish as it sounded, he felt somewhat connected with her, here in this restaurant. They had been waited on by an older, mildly grumpy woman. Carlo had hoped it would be Allison, but she was nowhere to be seen. He'd wanted to thank her for telling him when Cassandra would get out of work the other night.

  Carlo frowned as he reached for a lock of Gianna's hair and inspected it. “Did you actually have anything done to it?”

  She looked at him in mock exasperation. “Yesss.” She put down her fork and slid her hands up under her hair, spreading the shiny ebony mane over her shoulders. “I had like two inches taken off, and it's more angled around my face. Can't you tell?”

  “I'm your big brother. I'm not supposed to notice things like that.”

  “True. As long as Jordan notices. Which he does.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling. “He's actually talking about going ring shopping!”

  “As in, engaged? At your age?” Carlo liked Gianna's free-spirited boyfriend well enough, although Jordan didn't have the kind of aspirations Carlo wanted to see in a prospective husband for his sister: running a small photography studio in King of Prussia. But Jordan was young yet. And Gianna, a grad student in art history at age twenty-four, didn't exactly have her future mapped out.

  “My age?” Gianna laughed. “You're one to talk, Carlo, with how you and—” She quickly closed her mouth when she saw his expression change, her eyes filling. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be.”

  She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I shouldn't have teased. It was insensitive of me.”

  “It's all right. Really. It's been three years.”

  Gianna's eyes held his in a warm, tender gaze. He reached out to squeeze her hand, his throat tightening. She reminded him so much of his mother: small and lithe with beautiful olive skin and large, expressive eyes. The two had always been close, but they had become even closer since the deaths of Paolo and Scott.

  “Back to you, mia cara. I just don't want to see you rush into anything.”

  “You are totally sweet to be concerned, Carlo. But you don't need to worry about me.”

  “It's what I do.”

  Gianna lifted a spoonful of steaming chili to her mouth and gently blew on it. “I know. And little sisters worry about their big brothers, too.”

  “No need.”

  “I wish you'd find someone. I want you to have someone wonderful in your life again.”

  Carlo shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had no doubt that Gianna would be thrilled if he told her he had a date. She'd approve of Cassandra; he was sure of it. But he also knew Gianna would be full of questions, some of which he couldn't answer. Best to keep this quiet, since Cassandra, like the several others before her (and those after her), would need to be short-term.

  “Carlo? What's the matter? You look so serious all of a sudden.”

  He was about to reassure her when he noticed Allison standing in the archway looking in his direction, tying the strings of her apron behind her back. Smiling, he lifted his hand in greeting, and she nodded curtly before walking away.

  Strange, he thought. Allison was usually very friendly. And then he realized the reason for her cool behavior toward him. He was sitting with another woman.

  For a moment, he considered going to find Allison and telling her Gianna was his sister. But then he decided it might be to his benefit if Allison was to pass this along to Cassandra—perhaps incite a little jealousy to stir things up. He knew it was a bit of a prick move, but he'd let it be.

  They finished their lunch and made arrangements to have dinner in a few weeks, after Gianna and Jordan returned from vacationing at the family summer home in Maine. Carlo paid the bill and as the two of them headed for the door, he saw Allison out of the corner of his eye, watching. He could feel the resentment simmering in her gaze, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He wondered if he'd get a text or call from Cassandra since they had exchanged phone numbers.

  Gianna hugged him before leaving, and he gave her a quick kiss on each cheek. “Enjoy Maine, Gi. And tell Jordan to watch the speed on the boat.”

  “He doesn't drive that fast!”

  “I was talking about you.”

  She pouted. Carlo laughed and blew her a kiss as he walked toward his car. Just before he pulled out of the parking lot, his cell phone chimed. A text from Cassandra.

  Did you have a good lunch?

  Carlo grinned and responded. Yes, as usual. Although your service would have made it even better.

  A minute passed before he received a text. He imagined her frowning, tucking her hair behind her ear as she contemplated what to say.

  I'm wondering if your date would think so, too.

  Bingo. Jumping to conclusions, are we?

  Another pause from her end. When I agreed to go on a date, it was with the understanding that you weren't seeing anyone else. Apparently, I was wrong. Again. Don't contact me anymore.

  Carlo felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. Her assertiveness, her attempt to push him away, made him want her even more. He texted her back immediately. Don't tell me what to do. We have a date. And unless you have a problem with me having lunch with my little sister, I'll see you Saturday night.


  Several moments passed. Carlo adjusted the air conditioning and waited.

  Okay. And then, seconds later: Sorry.

  Carlo slid the gear shift into drive. He wouldn't reply just yet. Let her think on this a bit—maybe even feel guilty for judging him. This could definitely work to his advantage.

  He drove out of the parking lot to head back to his office. At the third stoplight, he picked up his phone, smiling as he pictured her reaction to his text.

  Make it up to me.

  chapter thirteen ~ Cassandra

  “So you still don't have any idea where he's taking you?”

  “Nope. And it's a sucky feeling, not knowing.”

  “Oh, shut it. Part of you thinks it's fabulous. And I'm pretty sure I know which part.” Teal winked.

  They were in Cassandra's bedroom, Teal lounging on the pillows against the headboard with a Ring Ding in one hand and her phone in the other, while Cassandra stood in front of her open closet, surveying her wardrobe.

  “I seriously love coming here,” Teal sighed contentedly. “You have the best snacks.”

  “If you get any crumbs in my bed, I'm going to kick your ass. I told you to get a plate.”

  “I'm being careful, for Chrissake! Lighten up. And I don't know how you stay so skinny with all the junk food you buy.”

  “It's the shit I shovel. And the shit I deal with. Plus, I don't wolf it down like some people. Tiny bites. I can make a Ring Ding last a week.”

  “You have a helluva lot more restraint than I do. Wonder if your self-control will apply to Carlo?” Teal licked cream from her fingers as she slyly raised an eyebrow.

  At the mention of Carlo's name, Cassandra felt something unfurl inside her, which she quickly folded up and tucked away. It would be good practice for the date tomorrow night.

  “I'm going to make sure it will.”

  “Uh huh. We'll see.” Teal sat up on the bed, swinging her legs over the side so that her feet dangled above the floor. “Your room is seriously so perfect. I mean, the colors, the furniture...everything.”

  “IKEA and Pinterest.” Cassandra's bedroom was her favorite room in her apartment: cornflower blue walls, a white bedframe and lamp table with clean, simple lines, and a sea-foam green comforter with piles of pillows in muted shades of blues and greens. One wall had a gallery of wildflower photos she had taken—splashes of color in crisp pictures. Her mother had loved the variety and individuality of wildflowers, preferring them to what she called “unimaginative” floral bouquets.