by Remy Landon
And he would need to continue on this path. Although he was looking forward to seeing her tonight, he had to admit inviting her to the party might not have been the best idea. The look of pleasure on her face after he'd asked her made him instantly question this move. He didn't want it to mean as much as it did to her. To further complicate matters, Brock would meet her tonight, and for a reason Carlo couldn't quite explain, he wanted Cassandra as far away from Dall as possible.
Carlo tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He needed to stop feeling like he had to shield her. It was ironic, really, given what he was planning to do. Yes, he felt more drawn to her than he had the others, but that was irrelevant. It could go nowhere.
He could allow himself to enjoy her tonight, and for the remaining time they would have together. He didn't anticipate it would be long. Brock had been a major pain in the ass lately, taunting him with warnings that he was days away from his “showcase.” The banter between them had always been part of the competition, but this time felt different—duller, somehow, and serious. The lust and anticipation had been replaced by an almost grim acknowledgement that Carlo had to go through with it to prove something.
He expelled an irritated sigh as he shifted mental gears. He needed to stay in the present, where it was safest. And the present was driving to Cassandra's apartment, greeting her with a smile, and focusing on Gianna's and Jordan's happiness tonight. He grinned as he thought of the little favor he'd asked of the hostess at Bent Brook when he had called a few days ago. Brenda had agreed, although the puzzlement in her voice was evident. Inside joke, he'd told her. He was eager to see how Cassandra would react.
He was also looking forward to seeing her face when she opened the gift he had gotten her. After choosing her dress and shoes (with Estelle's guidance), he had found the ideal accessories to complement it. He had discovered it made him feel good (and less guilty, yes, but it went beyond this) to give her things. She was proud, though, and she'd been reluctant to accept the dress, so he would have to be diplomatic with how he presented gifts to her. It was clear she had struggled financially, perhaps all through her life. He didn't like to think of her struggling, money-wise or in any way.
It struck him, this almost protective urge he had when he thought of her. He supposed it was part of his nature—he'd been this way with Gianna, especially after their mother had died. He considered himself good to the women in his life; he took care of whomever he was with, and protected them. When he could.
Fuck, he needed to lighten his mood. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. He exhaled deeply, imagining any negative thoughts exiting with his breath, and pulled into Cassandra's apartment complex. This time, he would go to the door and actually knock—maybe even step inside.
He glanced at the two jewelry boxes on the passenger seat. Ironically, the dress had been the least expensive of the ensemble. Cassandra had insisted that he spend less than $300, but she hadn't mentioned anything about a limit on the jewelry. The Paloma Picasso amethyst pendant he'd ordered from Tiffany's was twenty carats, and there were matching earrings and a Waverly sterling silver and amethyst cable bracelet to go with it—admittedly, a bit extravagant (Estelle had raised an eyebrow). But this would be the only formal event the two of them would attend together, and he wanted her to feel elegant. Special.
The door opened before he could knock, and there was Cassandra. “Hi,” she said breathlessly. “You're early.”
Carlo swallowed. The dress had been shipped to him, so he'd seen it, of course—even taken it out of the box and held it up, imagining how it might look on Cassandra. But nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful she was in it. The color was a vibrant violet—a perfect shade for her creamy skin—and brought out the rich tones in her auburn hair, which fell to her shoulders in long, loose waves. The dress was strapless and gathered at the waist with a flat satin bow, falling to just above her knee with a filmy, flowing skirt. The top was shirred and fitted, and the contrast between the tight bodice accentuating her breasts and the loose softness of the skirt made for an extremely enticing combination.
Cassandra stood primly, her shiny black pumps close together. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”
Carlo gathered his wits and winked at her. “Just for a minute?”
She blushed. “I don't want you to be late to your sister's party.”
He swept her into his arms, nestling his nose into her hair. “Mmm...you smell delectable. Not like fried pickles this time, but still delectable.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you. Calvin Klein ck one.”
“Very nice choice. It's clean. I like it.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “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.”
Incredulous, Cassandra shook her head. “I just don't get that.” She fluffed 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.”
Her hands went to the small silver hoops in her earlobes and she looked at him, a troubled expression shadowing her face. “You didn't need to do that.”
“I wanted to get you something special, to thank you for going with me. Wait here.” Carlo went to the car to get the jewelry boxes and came back to present them to her.
She looked at the names engraved on the boxes, her eyes widening. “Tiffany's? Nordstrom's?”
“Open them.”
Cassandra inhaled sharply as she saw 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.” He lifted the necklace carefully from the box and moved behind her to drape it around her neck, letting his fingers brush against her skin and smiling when she quivered.
Cassandra removed her hoops and slipped them in her clutch. With tentative fingers, she inserted the amethyst drop earrings and turned to the full-length mirror in the entryway. “I just—no one's ever... She paused, her cheeks coloring. “Thank you,” she managed. “They're beautiful.” She leaned back against him, her face rapt and her voice just above a murmur. “Carlo...we look good together.”
For a moment, he was unable to speak, and then he found his voice. “Yes, we do. Here—” he handed her the Nordstrom box. “The bracelet. Or, as you'd prefer to call it—wristlet.”
She wrinkled up her nose at him in mock admonition, lifted the lid and gave a little gasp. Carlo felt as though he, too, was seeing something beautiful for the first time: watching Cassandra's childlike, unbridled excitement opening these unexpected gifts. It got to him, witnessing the pure pleasure on her face and knowing he was responsible.
“So I take it you approve of the accessories.”
Cassandra opened the hinge and slipped the bracelet on her wrist, her fingers caressing 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 turned around to face him. Her eyes were glistening as they held his gaze, and he felt as though he was rooted to the floor—almost as if he was under her control. It was an unsettling but not unwelcome feeling.
“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. Carlo cringed 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.”
There were not many occasions when he found himself rendered speechless, but this was one of them. He stood staring down at her, the urge to take her in his arms and hold her sweeping over him.
“So I guess I'm the one who ought to be doing the thanking,” she finished softly.
“You're killing me. You realize that, don't you?”
Cassandra smiled. “I'm glad.”
~*~*~*~*~
Brenda and the staff at Bent Brook had done an outstanding job with the venue. Immediately upon entering the dining room, there was the feeling of warmth and elegance. A jazz piano player in the far corner hovered intently over the keys, filling the room with rich sound. There were the delicate twinkle lights Gianna adored, draping over sprays of bare branches in large, rustic clay pots. The usual ivory tablecloths had been replaced with ones of honey gold, the centerpieces antique mason jars filled with vibrant Gerbera daisies: multiple flowers of the same color (crimson, burnt orange or yellow) with a single flower of another color to stand out—for Paolo. The bouquets were surrounded by flickering, butter-colored votives. Gianna loved fall colors, and they suited her personality: warm and bright.
He could tell Cassandra loved it, too, her eyes sweeping the room and her mouth parted in delight. Impulsively, he took her hand and squeezed it, struck by how natural it felt to do this.
Estelle was the first person to greet him, wearing a royal blue dress and silver jewelry, her gray hair styled and curling attractively around her ears. She was not wearing her glasses, and her light blue eyes looked large and sparkling. Carlo gave a low whistle and she shook her head at him, clearly pleased.
“Estelle, you are looking absolutely ravishing tonight.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Carlo.”
“I'm serious. I've never seen you look better. I certainly hope you brought your date tonight—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 savior, Estelle Perry.”
“Listen to about a third of what he says, Cassandra. Most of it is just foolishness.” Estelle smiled warmly and took 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 looked up at Carlo, one eyebrow raised.
Estelle laughed. “Ah...and she's savvy as well as beautiful.”
They were joined by a stocky man with a shock of white hair, holding two martinis and looking rather frumpy in an ill-fitted, pale gray suit. Estelle took one of the glasses and looked at him adoringly. Carlo was mildly surprised that the man stood a couple of inches shorter than Estelle. He'd expected someone tall, bookish and refined, and this man was none of those things. But Estelle obviously saw something in him, so he'd give the guy the benefit of the doubt.
Introductions were made, and Carlo learned that Martin, Estelle's significant other, owned a small landscaping company. Martin and Cassandra hit it off immediately once the older man shared his childhood love of horses. Brenda came to check in with Carlo and Estelle, apologizing profusely for not coming out earlier, but one of the new servers had dropped a tray of caprese skewers, and the chef was fuming.
Cassandra was quick to sympathize. “Ughh, the poor thing...I've been there as a waitress, and it's so stressful.”
Brenda smiled. “Everything's fine now. Oh, Carlo—here are the guests of honor!”
Carlo turned to see Gianna and Jordan making their way into the dining room, smiling and greeting guests. His throat tightened as he watched her—this baby sister of his, so grown up and beautiful—and he felt his heart constrict, wishing his mother and stepfather were here to share in this happy event. Sometimes he felt as though he wasn't enough for Gianna—too busy with work to act as both mother and father for her, let alone just a devoted older brother.
But she turned to him, glowing with happiness, and all of that was forgotten.
His little sister was looking almost exotic in an off-the-shoulder burgundy gown that hugged her tanned, trim figure and complemented her olive skin. The high-heeled, bone-colored pumps she wore made her appear much taller than she was, her head level with Jordan's shoulder. He was looking casual and relaxed in a gray plaid sport coat, lavender polo, dark trousers and ever-present loafers, his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and his arm around his fiancee's waist. Carlo had often teased Gianna that Jordan had Malibu Beach water running through his veins. Jordan would no doubt be wearing flip-flops tonight if Gianna had let him.
Gianna left Jordan's side to come toward him, and he enveloped 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.”
Gianna hugged each of the smiling women and turned back to Carlo, darting her eyes at Cassandra and looking at him expectantly.
He grinned at her obvious hint. “Gianna, this is Cassandra. Cassandra, my baby sister, who seems to have grown up too fast.”
The two shook hands, and Carlo could feel an instant mutual affection. He wasn't surprised; they were quite similar in personality and close in age.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Cassandra said, and then looked alarmed. “Or maybe I should be saying 'best wishes?' I'm not very good with etiquette.”
“I'm actually not sure, either,” Gianna replied, laughing. Jordan appeared by her side, shook Carlo's hand and began talking to Cassandra. Gianna leaned in to Carlo to whisper. “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 looked at him, 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 opened her mouth to retort when she was interrupted by Jordan. “Hey, Gi. We should go mingle before we eat. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at these things?”
Carlo gave silent thanks to his future brother-in-law; he didn't want the conversation heading down a slippery slope.
Gianna linked her arm through Jordan's. “Yes, love. Great 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 smiled sweetly, and Carlo felt the familiar exasperation tinged with amusement his sister could bring about in him.
He put his hand at Cassandra's back and guided her toward the tables. Gianna hadn't wanted a head table (not her style). He'd had Estelle create a seating chart, making sure that Brock and his date would be sitting a good distance away.
His and Cassandra's table was easy to find, as it was the only one with a small, covered, silver platter at one place setting. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as Cassandra followed him over.
Glancing at her slyly, he could see puzzlement veiling her face. She leaned over the table to look at the place card, her wavy hair slipping over her shoulder. Carlo brushed it back with his hand and let his fingers drift over her skin, glad of an excuse to touch her. He could hear Cassandra's pronounced exhale.
“This is my place.” She turned to look at him.
“Yes.”
<
br /> “But why am I the only one with a covered dish?”
Carlo arranged his face to look innocent. “I guess you'd better see what's in it.”
Narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion, Cassandra carefully lifted the lid, her mouth opening in astonished delight and her face coloring as she burst into laughter. “A Twinkie? Seriously, Carlo, a Twinkie?”
“I wanted this night to be memorable.”
She shook her head, giggling. Seeing her react like this was even better than when she'd opened the jewelry boxes. He felt a surge of something he couldn't quite name and broke into laughter of his own.
“Only you, Cassandra, would appreciate this.”
“And only you, Carlo, would think of this.” Her eyes were sparkling mischievously as she lowered 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 started giggling again. He had never seen her like this—relaxed, animated. Happy. Turning her on had always brought him satisfaction, but to make her laugh like this—it got to him on an entirely different level.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn toward the dining room entrance. A tall, well-built, blond man accompanied by a dark-haired woman in red: Brock, and his date.
Although Carlo felt his mood begin to deflate, he figured it was for the best. Brock's arrival had brought him back to reality—the real reason Cassandra was even here in the first place.