by Remy Rose
“Uh huh. He just got back from Afghanistan. Said he wanted to surprise her, so I let him in her apartment to wait for her. She's probably having a nice visit with him right now.”
“You let him...” My heart, plummeting. Jesus. No. No. I force my lips to form the words. “What did her brother look like?”
Norman chuckles. “Nothin' like Cassandra—he's tall and blond. Real good-lookin' guy. Seemed nice and really excited to see her.”
Fuck. Fuck. A thick, cold fear takes hold of me as my mind rages. I bolt from my barstool, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I race out of the bar, vaguely aware that people are staring and Norman is calling my name. Running to my car, random thoughts explode in my brain: Mick...will wonder...an emergency...raining again...call 911...ten minutes from here to her...
And rising up from the discord, one mantra, a harsh and fervent plea emanating from the deepest part of my soul.
Please be all right...please, God, please don't let me be too late.
chapter forty-two ~ Cassandra
He’s leaning against my closed bedroom door, grinning broadly. “Aren't you going to say anything?”
I pull my robe tightly around me, crossing my arms as I take a small step backwards. Everything—my heartbeat, my breathing, my thinking—seems to hang suspended in time, hinged on what Brock will do next. I can hardly stand to look at him, yet I can’t look away. He’s dressed like he’s attending a business luncheon, in a pale green V-neck over a white Oxford shirt and tan khakis, his thick blond hair neatly parted and combed.
His expression is pleasant and relaxed, but his gleaming green eyes chill me to my very core. “You keep staring at me, Cassandra. I'm flattered.”
I manage to find my voice, but it sounds hoarse and weak. “How—how did you—”
“Get in here?” he finishes. “It was rather simple, really. Although I should clarify: it's your maintenance man who was simple, and that helped a great deal. I met him yesterday, told him I was your big brother home from Afghanistan, and asked him to let me in to your apartment today so I could wait for you. I'm sure the hundred dollar bill I slipped him helped, but who could say no to a returning military hero wanting to surprise his little sister? And my plan has been a success. You look absolutely stunned. And stunning, I might add, even in your robe.”
My mouth has gone completely dry, and it almost hurts when I swallow. I tell myself fiercely to calm down. I have to be calm with him. He can't know how scared I am.
Straightening, I clear my throat and speak again, this time a little stronger. “You may have surprised me today, but I knew it was you who was stalking me. Carlo and I both knew.”
His voice is soft but icy. “You may have known that, but you are both idiots for not taking me seriously. Carlo is an idiot for betraying me, and you’re an idiot for falling for him.” He chuckles. “For those reasons, I thought it would be perfect to have my denouement fall on April Fool's Day.”
“You need to leave. Your little game is over, Brock.”
“Leave? I haven't even gotten started yet, Cassandra. Besides, you need to show your big brother just how glad you are to see him. And speaking of games, I have to tell you how much I've enjoyed that video. I've watched it over, and over, and over. I've jacked off to it more times than I can count. Your perfect, spankable ass gets me every time. It's a shame that the camera angle didn't show your pussy, but I'll be seeing that very soon.”
Repulsion makes my stomach lurch. “You need to get out of my apartment. I have someone coming over soon.”
His eyebrows lift in amusement. “Oh, really? In that case, I better get started, then. You've kept me waiting long enough as it is. I hope you don't mind that I helped myself to your cheap wine. Your rich boyfriend apparently doesn't know how to take proper care of a woman. But,” he pauses, smiling, “I do.”
Brock moves toward me. I take a few steps back, shrinking away from him as I rack my brain for ideas. There are scissors in my desk drawer, if I can get over there. I could stall him, keep him talking...
His mouth opens as he comes closer. His breathing has intensified, and there’s the distinct smell of alcohol. At the very second I realize I have no more room to get away from him, the bed hits the back of my legs. I gasp, struggling to stay upright. Brock's eyes are glowing as he pushes me down on the bed, climbing quickly on top of me and taking each of my wrists in his hands.
Oh, God! No! I open my mouth to scream. He mashes his lips over mine, thrusting his tongue in my mouth and yanking my arms painfully over my head. There is the strong, bitter taste of alcohol and I’m struggling against him, but he’s lying with his full weight on top of me. I can’t break free. Now he’s taking both of my hands in one of his, using his free hand to loosen the belt of my bathrobe and yank it open. His fingers are cold, sliding up to my breast. I feel like I’m going to be sick. He pinches my nipple hard, and I whimper against his mouth, loathing that this seems to excite him more. He pushes his tongue against mine, squeezing my nipple as I fight to keep from moaning in pain.
I feel his erection poking at my leg through his pants. Fuck, I need to get him off me! My heart is beating so rapidly at the thought of what he’s going to do, it feels like it’s going to explode. Brock is fumbling with his belt, and I try to turn my body frantically beneath him as he slides his pants down, his cock warm, stiff and heavy against my thigh.
Oh, God, please...no... I’m whimpering uncontrollably now, twisting, writhing...
His breath is hot as he pulls his mouth away from mine to rasp in my ear. “You're going to know what a real man feels like, Cassandra. Carlo couldn't finish the job that night of the video, so I'm going to do it for him...little sister.”
Still grasping my wrists, he gets up on his knees to prepare to enter me, and I see my chance. With all of my strength, I free my foot and draw up my leg to jab my heel at his crotch. He turns his pelvis away from the kick so it doesn’t hit him square, but it’s enough to make him grunt with pain. His face colors with rage. He leans over me and backhands me, hard, across the cheek. Stunned by the blow, I can only look up at him dazedly as he quickly strokes his cock to regain his erection and climbs on top of me again. I feel a cool rush of air as my robe is pulled completely open, and then Brock's thick fingers thrusting forcefully, painfully between my legs...
Suddenly, the door...bursting open. Lying rigidly on my bed, I am keenly aware of Brock leaping off me—No. He was yanked.
There is a roar of outrage from a familiar voice, the dull thud of a fist pounding into flesh, and soft groans of pain that follow. Weakly, I pull myself onto my elbows as relief washes over me, flooding out the terror. Carlo. Carlo is here.
He draws back his fist and punches Brock again, a clean uppercut to the jaw, followed by a swift knee to the groin, causing Brock to double over and crumple to the floor.
I scramble to my knees on the bed, pulling my bathrobe around me and shrinking into a shivering ball, just as two policemen burst into the bedroom, guns drawn. Backing away from Brock, Carlo rushes to me, gathering me into his arms as I burst into tears. He buries his face in my neck, kissing my hair, murmuring my name, holding me as if he’s holding on to dear life.
Over his shoulder, I can see an officer putting handcuffs on Brock, the other cop coming toward us, his face tense and concerned. “Are you all right, miss?”
I nod, feeling Carlo's arms tighten around me.
“I'll give you a few minutes, and then we're going to need to ask you some questions.” Tactfully, he steps away and stands near the door as his partner finishes reading Brock his Miranda rights.
Carlo leans back to look at me, brushing his fingers tenderly across my cheek. “Cassandra—did he hit you?”
I nod, tears welling up again, and Carlo's face darkens. His eyes are blazing with fury, but there is something else as well—wild, raw fear. The muscles in his jaw are trembling. “He's fucking lucky the police showed up when they did. Did he hurt you, other than your cheek? Di
d he...” His mouth twists around the words. “...rape you?”
“He was just about to.” I take a deep, shuddery breath. “Thank God you got here, Carlo.”
His eyes are glistening as he brushes the hair away from my face, cupping my chin in his hand and kissing my forehead softly. “I'm going to go get you some ice for your cheek.”
“No...” I put my hands on his upper arms, wanting to feel his strength. “Stay with me.”
He hugs me, his lips against my ear, his one-word answer warm and reassuring. “Always.”
chapter forty-three ~ Carlo
The late April sea breeze tugs at Gianna's long, dark hair, tousling it, and sets it back down in disarray. She tucks it behind her ears and smiles up at me as we stand upon the flat black ledges. We’re at our Maine summer home for a weekend getaway, and for Jordan to finalize the shot list for the photographer and videographer.
I raise an eyebrow. “You do realize you'll probably have to contend with this wind for the wedding?”
“Yes...that's why I'm going to have an updo with hair spray.”
“Better plan on bringing extra cans, then.”
“Carlo. It will be fine. You're not talking me out of having it outdoors. I want it right here, right near the water.”
“First weekend in May will be a bit chilly, cara.”
“It should be in the low sixties, but if not, it's a short ceremony, and people can wear coats.” Gi folds her arms in exasperation. “Is there anything else you want to be pessimistic about? Maybe a seagull will relieve itself on my head.”
I chuckle, pulling Gianna into my arms for a quick hug. “I'm sorry. I'm just in a mood. And I want everything to be perfect for you.”
“Nothing's perfect, fratello. But it will be as close as it can be. I'm marrying the man I'm madly in love with, surrounded by my brother, my family and friends, and we have the Atlantic Ocean for a backdrop. What could be better?”
“You're right.”
“Have you heard from Cassandra lately?”
“A few days ago. We had a good talk on the phone.” I decided not to tell Gianna, or anyone, about Cassandra's attempted rape. I want to guard her privacy like she asked me to, and I also want to put it behind me and move on. Dall is being charged with attempted rape and assault in addition to my lawsuit against him. I’m more than happy to turn the motherfucker over to the judicial system. He’ll hopefully be put away for a long, long time.
“Did you happen to ask her to be your date for my wedding?”
“No. I don't want to pressure her. She's asked me for space, and I'm giving it to her.” I had felt incredibly close to her, comforting her that horrific night. Seeing her in that vulnerable position gave me the strength of ten men. I was filled with more rage than I’ve ever felt in my life—so much it scared me. I wanted to beat Dall into a bloody pulp, but once the police took over, all I could focus on was making Cassandra feel secure and protected. She’d clung to me, and I held her tight, wishing she could climb inside me and stay there. Always, so I could keep her safe.
And she hadn't pulled away.
After the police had finished their interview and left, I stayed with her for a long time. She changed into cotton pajamas and decided she wanted to sit in the living room, so I brought blankets from her bed and wrapped her up in them, pouring each of them a glass of wine and sitting beside her on the sofa. As she began to get drowsy, I watched her eyelids close. She had bunched up the blankets in her hands, and I looked at her small, delicate fingers, flawless face, her cheekbones dusted rose from warmth. I watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, her auburn hair, messily beautiful across her shoulders, and my heart and mind were full. I wanted to take all of this in, because I didn't know when—or even if—I would see her again. Even though she was sleeping, I whispered, please forgive me and hoped her subconscious would hear it.
She woke up soon afterwards and seemed to be cooler, calmer, thanking me for being with her and telling me gently that she wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to leave, but she said she’d call Teal if she needed someone. This stung, but I got rid of the feeling. I have no claim to her, as much as I wished it were different, and there was even the chance—as horrible as it was for me to think about—that she holds me partly responsible for Brock's attack. If she hadn't been involved with me, none of this would have happened.
I need to get strong again on my own, she had told me, her eyes large and luminous. I don't know how long that's going to take, but I want to be just me, so I know I'm okay. Do you understand?
I did. And it fucking terrified me. Selfishly, I want her to need me. I want to dominate and protect her; I want her to see that she belongs to me.
I want to love her.
But right now, I’m not in control. And unsettling as this may be, it is truth.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the arrival of my future brother-in-law, walking toward us across the flat rocks, the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He slings his arm around Gianna's shoulder, shaking his head as he looks over the sea. “I know I've been here before, but man, this place...every time you come back, it's like seeing it for the first time.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Gi says, sighing. “Do you have the shots all figured out?”
“Got all my notes right here.” He pats his pants pocket. “Kinda wish I was shooting this event myself, but then again...I wouldn't get to be the groom.”
“You're a lucky man, Jordan,” I tell him. “And don't you forget it.”
“I'm reminded every day just looking at her, Carlo.”
Gi gets up on her toes to plant a kiss first on her fiancé's cheek, then does the same to me. “You both are too sweet. Let's go have some lunch, and then we can swing over to Crescent Lumber and check out the progress on the pergola.”
“Sounds good. I'll be up in a bit.”
Gi and Jordan walk up the weathered steps of our small deck at the edge of the property and head across the sprawling back lawn toward the house. I turn toward the ocean, filling my eyes with the wind-ruffled water. The sea seems to have emotions of its own: it can be tumultuous and angry like it is right now, teeming with choppy waves and lashing the rocky beach as it spews seaweed onto the shore before recoiling back into itself.
It’s the same type of turbulent sea as the day I scattered Lauren’s ashes, three and a half years ago. I had wanted to be alone to do this, and her family respectfully allowed it. This Maine setting had been one of Lauren's favorite places, so I’d flown here to make her part of it. I had cradled the urn, holding her for the last time, and opened it...let the wind take her, and the baby who would never be. I had been scattered, too, watching the life that had been reduced to mere powder dancing on the breeze, falling into the water and floating, drifting away.
Now, having learned that the accident might not have been my fault, I feel like the tides inside me are changing. I might be alone now, but maybe I can be at peace—able to calm my rough, angry waves, and find the smoothness again.
chapter forty-four ~ Cassandra
“May 1st is such a cool day for a birthday.” Teal leans back against my sofa in her sweatshirt and lounge pants, sipping her mimosa. She spent the night last night, and we’re going to make a breakfast of waffles and whipped cream and go for a mani/pedi later.
“I remember taking my little red wagon and delivering May baskets to all the neighbors, ringing their doorbells and running off,” she continues. “Plus, it means the end of April. Bitch can't make up her mind if she wants to be warm, or cold, and she rains way too much.”
“Kind of lame that my birthday fell on a Monday this year, though.”
“Doesn't matter. We're still going out, and Patrice and Kevin are coming with. It'll be a combination birthday celebration/girls and gay night. We don't need to stay late...just a few drinks. You have to be at the stable kind of early tomorrow, right?”
“I've got the noon chore, so no.”
“That works. Do
es, um, Carlo happen to know it's your birthday?”
“Not unless anyone told him.” I shoot her a suspicious look.
Teal puts up her hands. “I did no such thing. I know better, girlfriend.” Her face softens. “You seem to be doing better, huh?”
“Yep. No more nightmares, and I can finally sleep in my room again.”
“That's good. I'm sure it helps knowing that douchebag is going to be locked up for a long time. There are a lot of pricks out there, but that guy is a fucking cactus.”
“Could not agree more.”
“Oh! I need to give you your birthday present.” Teal jumps up off the couch and pads over to the kitchen in her fuzzy socks.
“What do you mean? You've already made me breakfast, and we're doing the mani/pedi later...”
She’s not listening. She comes back holding a small jewelry box with a tiny pink bow on the top and holds it out to me.
“Oh my God, are you proposing, Teal? Is there some flash mob waiting outside?”
“Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind. Open it.”
I lift the lid to find a delicate silver necklace with a spiral pendant. “Oh, this is so unique! I love it.”
“It's symbolic...I got it online from this spiritual website. It's supposed to release stress.”
I put it on and smile as I put my fingers over the pendant. “I can feel it working already. Thank you, BFF.”
While Teal is making breakfast, I go outside to get the mail. A Walmart flyer and a lavender envelope—with my father's return address. I feel a tightness in my chest as I open it. It’s a birthday card with a bouquet of red and yellow tulips on the front, and there’s a photo inside: six year old me on my new bike, with colorful plastic tassels coming out of the handle grips. I’m beaming with pride, and my father is standing beside me, making sure I didn't tip over.
Inside the card, he wrote, Happy Birthday, Cass. I hope you get what you wish for. And I hope to see you soon. LOVE, Dad.