by Remy Landon
“I don't get how you keep your room like this. Mine looks like a department store at the end of Black Friday.”
“Teal. Can you please just help me decide on something to wear?”
“Not to be hating on your closet, but it's not like you have a lot of choices. Why don't you just go and buy an outfit?”
“Because that costs money. And it would be making this date more important than it is.”
“And just what is it?”
“It's a dinner date. Singular.”
“Umm...I'm guessing Mr. Leone is thinking more in plural terms.”
“It doesn't matter what he's thinking. My plan is to be cool, unattainable and distant.”
“Cass. You're a hot twenty-one-year-old, not Mount Everest. Have you ever thought it might be time to let someone...climb you?” Teal snorted with laughter.
Rolling her eyes, Cassandra sighed loudly and turned toward her closet. She took out a short black dress with a scoop neckline. “What about this one? I could accessorize.”
Teal surveyed the dress with disdain. “The LBD is classic, but it's predictable. How about the pink one with the slit up the side?”
“It has a slit up the side.”
“Grrrr, you piss me off. That's the whole point.”
“I've always liked this maxi,” Cassandra offered, picking up the skirt of the strapless coral dress.
“Nope. You need to show off your legs.” Teal got off the bed and fluttered a hand at Cassandra. “Move it.”
Stepping aside, Cassandra watched with folded arms as Teal whisked the hangers from right to left with lightning speed and a running commentary. “Too floral...too young...too nineties—when was the last time you went shopping, anyway?—too needy...too bad...wait. What about this one?”
Teal held up a sky-blue minidress. Cassandra frowned. The dress was admittedly the best she owned—she had been excited to find it on sale at Macy's. It was clingy in all the right places, with a portrait neckline and triangular cut-outs above the bust, and the color brought out her eyes. She'd last worn it to a dinner theater date with Dylan. Which was the major issue here. That memory was like a heavy, unattractive accessory.
“This is perfect. It'll show off your ripped arms, and your tan, and your eyes...oh, now what? What the hell is wrong with it?”
“I've worn it before.”
“No shit. You should wear the crap out of it. It's gorgeous. Put it on.”
“I've worn it before on a date with Dylan.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So I associate it with him.”
“Then it's time to create some new associations. Put it on.” Teal shook the hanger, the dress waving like a banner.
Sighing loudly, Cassandra began undressing. There was no use arguing with Teal; she was in pre-law, for God's sake. She'd be a bulldog in the courtroom.
“I don't know how to say this without sounding lesbo, Cass, but Jesus, your body is smokin'.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“And you don't know how to take a compliment.”
Cassandra pulled off her t-shirt and smoothed back her hair. “Thank you. I guess I do know how to take an insult, though.” She winked as she took the dress from Teal and slid it over her head, reaching behind her back to zip and tugging gently on the hemline just above her knees.
“Daaayyumm, girlfriend! This is perfection. It's classy, not too dressy, and sexy. The color is amazing on you. And your ass looks fanfuckingtastic.”
“Thanks.”
“Whatwhatwhat? Did Cassandra Larsen just accept a compliment?”
“Don't mock me.”
“Sorry. But seriously, you look so hot. I'd do ya.” Teal's blue eyes narrowed as she bent down and peered closely at Cassandra's bare legs. “I'm seeing a little stubble. Make sure you shave tomorrow. And I'm not talking just your legs.” She smirked.
“I am totally ignoring that last comment.”
“I mean it. And don't use one of those cheap-shit disposable razors. Get a good one where the replacement blades cost about twenty bucks a piece. It'll be worth it.”
“What about shoes?”
“You can borrow my white strappy sandals. Carlo's tall, right?”
“Mm-hmm. I don't want anything too high-heeled or slutty, though.”
“No worries—they aren't exactly knock-me-down-and-fuck-me shoes. I wonder if he has a foot fetish?”
“Oh my God.”
“Have you checked out his Facebook yet?”
“I don't even know if he has one. I get the feeling he's above that sort of thing. He's kind of cocky.”
“Cocky doesn't necessarily make him a bad person. And you shouldn't judge him till you get to know him better. Maybe he's not really cocky, and it's some sort of defense mechanism.”
“Maybe.”“Have you googled him?”
“You seem to think I want to find out more about him.”
Teal snorted. “Like you don't? Creep on him, for God’s sake. What’s wrong with you?”
You, of all people, should know. Cassandra felt her mood sink like a stone. She wasn't some high school girl obsessing over the quarterback, where dating was sweetly simple: going to a dance, making out afterwards, texting your BFF and then hopping on Facebook for a group chat to discuss the sordid details...where the primary concerns were how far you'd let him go on the next date and wondering when you might change your status to the cozy in a relationship.
The cold reality of tomorrow night's date with Carlo was ocean water in her veins.
It had taken a lot of time and effort to simplify and de-stress her life—to be comfortable with how things were. There was nothing comfortable about Carlo; just the thought of him rattled her to her very core. But still—his smoldering eyes, that beautiful mouth...she felt helplessly, hopelessly drawn to him, like magnet to metal.
“Hey.” Teal's tone was gentle, her eyes anxiously searching Cassandra's face. “You okay?”
“I don't know. I just can't believe I'm doing this.”
“It's a date, Cass, not a lifetime commitment. Just keep it in perspective.”
“But dates turn into relationships. And I'm not ready for a relationship.”
“How do you know that? It's been a long time since Dylan.”
“I still feel...guarded.”
“Guarded isn't a bad thing. You were hurt by two different guys. I get that. The one you were with before Dylan that used you to write his papers and made you pay for things—what was his name again?”
“Josh.”
“Right. Josh. He only went out with you for like...what, two months? And then when his old girlfriend wanted him back, it was over. That didn't really count.”
“It felt like it counted.”
“Well, I'm not counting it. And I think this is more related to you growing up with an asshole of a father who treated your mother like shit. It's totally understandable that you'd have a wall up. I just wish you'd be excited, though, even a little bit, about going on a date with a gorgeous guy who is obviously very into you.”
“But why is he into me? He's rich, he's insanely attractive...he could have anyone.”
Sighing loudly, Teal walked forward and placed her hands on Cassandra's shoulders. “Stop being so goddamned needy. You're not only absolutely gorge, you are bright and feisty and funny, and anyone with a penis would want you. Probably a few vaginas would, too. You are the only who doesn't seem to get that.”
Cassandra's protests were like a protective barrier, but flinging them at her friend was futile; Teal was collecting and swiftly discarding them like bits of trash. The only defense remaining in Cassandra's arsenal was raw, stripped-down honesty.
She looked into Teal's eyes and fought the sting of tears. “I'm scared, T.”
“I know, sweetie. But it's okay to be scared. You're taking a risk...and you should. It's time.” Teal put her arms around Cassandra and gave her a quick hug. “Now get out of that dress and let's go grab somet
hing to eat. I'm effing starving.
“The Ring Ding didn't take?”
“Nope. Plus, I have an insatiable appetite—for both food and sex. And maybe after your date with Mr. Leone, you'll find yourself hungering for more.”
This time, Cassandra did not protest and allowed herself the slightest of smiles as she slipped out of her dress. Teal squealed in delight and held up her hand for a fist bump. “Yayyy, there's my girl!”
Cassandra slid the hanger back into the dress and hung it in her closet. There were two words pulsing in her brain like fireflies.
Tomorrow night.
chapter fourteen ~ Carlo
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in his master bathroom, Carlo inspected his appearance. He was wearing a light grey, Jil Sander textured-twill blazer, a teal shirt and trousers in a slightly darker shade than the jacket. The last time he'd worn this jacket was at a break-up dinner for the previous woman he was with. As was always the case, he hadn't felt guilty; the restaurant was five-star, the food exquisite, and the woman had taken the news much better than he'd anticipated. Of course, it hadn't hurt that his parting gift to her was a Bony Levy ruby and diamond flower pendant. When he said he needed to tell her something, she'd looked at him with dewy brown eyes and an acquiescent expression—a far cry from the independent, frosty woman he'd first met. She had known. Her face had clouded with the knowing. But she had simply nodded when he'd said as much as he wished things were different, he wasn't ready for a relationship. He knew she was disappointed, maybe even more than that...but she had accepted it—just as she'd accepted his sexual demands, given some time and the concoction of whatever he had that made women turn into quivering sex servants.
He regarded this with more incredulity than arrogance. It fascinated him, that he was somehow able to not only dominate women, but change them. The pattern was always the same with this type of woman: at first, defiant resistance...softening into mild protests, which grew few and far between...drifting into meek hesitation...and then finally, the point of submission.
He wasn't sure exactly how, but he had somehow acquired the ability to make women believe they not only wanted him, but needed him: his words, his hands, his mouth...and his cock. Oftentimes, the woman would beg shamelessly, and there were times Carlo was so aroused he had to call upon all of his willpower not to throw her down on the bed and just fuck, before the optimal time. But the key, as he had learned, was to go excruciatingly slowly. Let the want—the need—build and simmer, until he had the woman exactly where he needed her to be. It was more than just the game, and more than just his own sexual gratification. Each time he was able to seduce an unlikely woman into total submission, he felt not only triumphant, but strangely comforted, because it meant he was in control. Things went according to his timetable, his plan. And he needed this, ever since—
Carlo abruptly reined in his thought before he could finish it. He would be seeing Cassandra soon. He needed to be in the right frame of mind; dwelling on the past would not help.
He wondered what she was feeling right now. Anticipation, apprehension, excitement—hopefully, mostly the last. Getting her to agree to the date had been moderately challenging, but giving up on a woman he had chosen was never an option. He felt a surge of arousal as he imagined their first kiss—how it would feel to touch her. His mind clicked into fast forward thinking of the possibilities of the game finalé. Cassandra's would need to be exceptionally erotic. Something they both would remember.
Carlo leaned in closer to the mirror, smoothed his eyebrows and removed a stray piece of lint from his lapel. Reaching into the maple medicine cabinet, he opened a small bottle of cologne and dabbed a wet fingertip along each side of his neck, a half-smile on his lips. White Cristal had never failed him.
His phone chimed from the vanity top. Cassandra? He looked at the screen. It was Alexis, texting to see if he could come over later tonight. They hadn't had any contact since that night a few weeks ago. He sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt. Now that he was becoming more involved with Cassandra, he would be channeling his energies toward the goal and would have to forego any hook-ups. Alexis would be fine with it; part of their deal was no questions and no hurt feelings if the other person wasn't available.
He replied to her text with a simple apology and checked the small silver clock above the sink. He would leave in five minutes. He'd made reservations for 6:30 at Bent Brook Country Club. Cassandra would like it; the Club was classy and elegant but not pompous. The meal would not disappoint. And then, if all went according to plan, he would be bringing her back here after dinner.
The mid-August sun was blinding as Carlo backed out of his garage for the thirty-minute drive to Elizabethtown. He had decided to keep the convertible top up until he asked Cassandra what she'd prefer, although he was quite sure she wouldn't want any wind blowing her hair if she was dressed up.
Reaching for his Wayfarers, he entered Cassandra's address into his GPS and was surprised to feel a surge of pleasure at the thought of seeing her. He always looked forward to being with a beautiful woman, but this...this felt like the magical intoxication of a high school date—something he hadn't experienced since his first love. His first and only love.
Too fast. He had gone too fast, that time.
I'm sorry for your loss. Hollow, careful, emotionless words of someone following protocol to deliver the news that will cause the world to stop.
Fuck the past, he told himself savagely. Yes, the world had stopped for him, but he had restarted it. Thrown himself into the business, exercised to the point of exhaustion, drank more than he should have. But he had survived. He had learned it was possible to go on and to regain control of things. Work. Women. Life.
He was feeling calm and confident by the time he pulled into Cassandra's parking lot. It was a typical townhouse-style apartment complex with a few harshly-pruned, complimentary shrubs along the walkway. Despite Carlo's wish to meet her at the door, Cassandra had given him strict instructions to stay in his car and text her once he'd arrived. He imagined she was feeling self-conscious about her modest apartment in light of his financial status. So he would let her have her way. This time.
Carlo put the Mercedes in park and texted Cassandra. The reply came in seconds. OK. Be right out.
When Cassandra had asked him what she should wear on their date, he'd described Bent Brook as semi-formal. Looking at her now, as she stepped out of her door, he caught his breath. He knew she would look beautiful, but she had exceeded his expectations. She was stunning. The dress accentuated her tanned, muscular legs and her curves, and as she turned to lock the door, Carlo's eyes were drawn to her ass, which looked trim and round and perfect. His gaze traveled up her bare back to her hair, gathered in a low, loose bun with a sparkly clip tucked just above her ear. He'd never seen her wear her hair like this and was struck by how elegant it made her look. He was filled with the urge to stand behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and kiss and nip a slow path along her neck.
Now she was walking toward his car, holding a small silver clutch and taking slow, careful steps in her tall sandals as though she was a little girl unaccustomed to wearing heels. The effect was charming. As she came closer, Carlo could see that she was keeping her gaze on the ground. Watching her caused a flood of emotions in him that he was unable to separate and identify. He only knew that he wanted her. Badly.
Carlo quickly unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the convertible to meet her. She looked up at him then, her face glowing. Judging from her expression, it was clear she was mutually appreciative of his appearance. Her eyes looked more blue than green tonight, most likely because of the color of her dress, and her lashes were thick and full against pale, shimmery eye shadow.
He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, hesitating to let his lips brush against her skin before he straightened up. He decided to use humor to put her at ease. “I have to tell you, you're looking a bit different than the first time I saw you at Win
dswept.”
Blushing, she smiled sheepishly. “Are you saying I clean up good?”
“Yes. Although that's a bit of an understatement. Like saying the Mona Lisa is a nice sketch.” He opened her car door and watched as she climbed gingerly inside, tugging down the bottom of her dress and crossing her legs at the ankle.
Carlo settled into his seat and started the car. “Would you prefer the top down, or up?”
She glanced at him, one eyebrow playfully raised. “I assume you prefer the top down.”
“Always.”
Cassandra shook her head, laughing, and turned to look out the window as they backed out of the parking lot.
“I know how you women are about your hair.”
“Oh, really? I'm now like all other women?”
“Only in that regard. I've never known a woman who wasn't concerned about wind messing up her hair.”
“Which proves you don't know me. Because I couldn't care less.” She folded her arms across her chest and straightened in her seat. “Top down, please.”
“As you wish.” Carlo grinned, pushing a button on the center console, and the car's roof folded smoothly into its rear compartment.
“Thank you. So you didn't have any trouble finding my place?”
“Not with the GPS. Although I'm rather familiar with E-town.”
“Let me guess. Your sister [Cassandra made air quotes] lives here.”
“No. My company has a warehouse here.”
“Oh. So no romantic interests in this town?”
Carlo couldn't hide his smile. “Only one.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her clasping and unclasping her hands. Good. She was flustered.
“Where are we going?”
“Lititz. Is that all right?”
“Yes...it's just farther than I thought.”