Sian gave a guilty start, remembering that she had written a colour piece about his home and family, and the aftermath of Annette's father's heart attack. Only a few hours and he would be reading it—and how would he react then?
Cass looked shrewdly into her confused green eyes, his brows going up. 'What now? Why are you looking at me like that?'
Flushed, she took refuge in temper. 'Stop trying to read my mind, damn you!'
'Are you afraid I can?' he asked in a lowered tone, and with a start she realised she was; she actually suspected he could tell from her face what she was thinking.
'No!' she said, far too quickly, with far too much emphasis, and he laughed in a distinctly satisfied way, but then their dessert arrived and Sian was able to steer the conversation into less personal channels. All the same, she was disturbed as he drove her home later. During dinner, they had come closer; far too close. She really felt that she was getting to know him and that he knew a lot about her, and even that he could get through her defences and understand what made her tick—and that was very worrying.
Seeing Louis again had vividly reminded her of the dangers of caring about a man. They became possessive, jealous, demanding—they wanted more than you cared to give, and you ended up getting hurt because of the impossible demands of both your man and your career. She still had a world to conquer; she was ambitious and wanted to climb in her career. She couldn't do that and tie herself to a man.
Then she glanced sideways and in the yellow glare of a street light saw Cass—his hard face in profile to her, his eyes hooded and his mouth a firm line. She saw more than that—she saw the gloss of power over him, the strength of his background, his wealth and influence.
And she laughed at herself. She was letting her imagination run riot. Cass wasn't seriously interested in her. He had taken her out tonight to make capital out of the latest gossip—to make people forget how he had been jilted, to soothe his ego over the humiliation of being left at the altar. She was just a means to an end, and if he seemed to know what she was thinking it was only because he was a clever, shrewd man, a skilled negotiator and manipulator who knew human beings, not merely women.
While she was arguing with herself over whether she wanted him or not, Cass was blissfully unaware of her. If he knew what she was thinking he would laugh at her, and she would deserve it. For a while, she had forgotten Annette—but he had wanted to marry Annette, and he must still be in love with her or he wouldn't have gone to so much trouble for her, even after she had left him at the altar.
Sian turned her head away, biting her lip. What a fool you are! she told herself. Grow up!
Cass pulled up outside her flat and turned to smile at her. 'Thank you for a very pleasant evening.'
'I hope it achieved what you wanted it to achieve,' Sian said tartly, and he laughed, as though not hearing the angry note in her voice.
'I saw one gossip columnist in the restaurant and I know he saw us. One is enough.'
'More than enough, I'd say,' Sian muttered, turning to get out of the car, but Cass caught her shoulder and casually pulled her back towards him before she knew what he was up to.
As he bent to kiss her she wildly hit out, meaning only to push him away. The sound of the slap as it landed on his cheek made both of them jump, but especially Sian, even more surprised than he was, since she hadn't intended to slap his face.
There was a dangerous pause, while she stared, aghast, at the spreading redness on his skin, and he stared back at her as if he couldn't believe she had actually dared to hit him.
Then he slammed her backwards against the seat, and kept her there with the weight of his body while he began to kiss her forcibly, his mouth angry and bruising. Sian struggled uselessly; he was far too strong for her and the kiss was no pleasure.
'I hate you, stop it!' she tried to say, but the words were muffled by his hard mouth.
Frustration and rage made her shake; a tear trickled from under her lids and then another. She wept with fury because she understood why he was so violent. It had nothing to do with her personally—her slap had simply reminded him of Annette and his humiliation when she had walked out on him. He was taking revenge on Sian as the nearest female and she bitterly resented it.
At last, breathing thickly, Cass lifted his head and she glared up at him. 'You make me sick,' she said, and he turned pale himself.
'I'm sorry, I lost my temper.'
'Don't bother to make excuses,' Sian said shakily, white and tear-stained and in a mood to bite him. 'Just let me out of here before I throw up. I've had enough of you and your damned ego! Why should I have to carry the can for Annette? It wasn't my fault she walked out on you, and I don't want to listen to any more of your explanations or apologies. I just want to get away from you and never set eyes on you again.'
He opened his mouth, then shut it. A moment later Sian was bolting across the pavement to her flat, and Cass was driving away with a roar of power, his tail lights vanishing, although she didn't look back to watch. She went straight to bed in a state of deep depression. That was the last time she would ever see Cass!
CHAPTER SIX
Sian was optimistic. After a very bad night, she was eating her muesli and keeping an eye on the clock because she still had to do her make-up before she left for work, when the doorbell went. Sian had no premonition. She thought it must be the girl next door, wanting to borrow milk for her cornflakes, or the postman with a parcel he couldn't slip through the letterbox. At that hour of the morning she wasn't expecting Cass, and when she saw him on the doorstep she stared in surprise.
He was clutching a newspaper and he was in one of his rages; his eyes glittered at her and he was breathing like a bull about to charge.
'And I was stupid enough to tell myself I could trust you!' he said, waving the paper at her. 'How could you do it? Don't you have any decency?'
Sian looked at the newspaper; it was her own. She had forgotten writing the colour piece and flushed.
'Look, I'm sorry…'
'Don't say it,' he bit out. 'Last night you told me you didn't want to hear any more apologies— well, that goes for me, too. You wrote about my private life, my family, my home! And then you called me a user! What the hell are you?'
A door opened across the landing and Sian took hold of his shirt front and pulled him into her flat. Slamming the door, she hissed at him, 'If I hadn't agreed to write that, my editor would have got someone else to do a far more personal piece. He wanted something along the lines of the stories in the other papers.' She stared pointedly at him. 'If you get my meaning!'
Cass ran a hand uncertainly through his dark hair, still scowling. 'Oh, I see. Well… you're so damn plausible, that's the trouble. I'm never sure where I am with you, or if you're telling me the truth.'
'I am,' she said indignantly.
'Maybe you are, but I keep finding myself telling you things I certainly wouldn't like to read in the morning paper, and it bothers me the way you ferret things out of me.'
'I don't ferret anything!' Sian said, glowering back. 'If you read that piece carefully, you'll see what pains I went to not to write anything a good reporter couldn't find out from a cuttings library.'
'You described the interior of my home!' he snapped. 'Where could you find out details like that, except from being there?'
Eyeing him scornfully, Sian asked, 'Do you remember allowing an interior design magazine to use your home for a big double-page feature?'
His face changed. 'Oh.'
'Yes, oh,' she repeated, eyes cold.
'I'd forgotten that.'
'Well, maybe next time you'll check your information before you come accusing people of double-crossing you,' said Sian, opening the front door again. 'Goodbye, Mr Cassidy.'
He leaned on the door and forced it shut again. 'Sian, I'm sorry.'
'I thought we agreed we were both sick of apologies? Would you mind going? I was eating a peaceful breakfast when you arrived.'
'I was e
ating a peaceful breakfast until I saw this and promptly got indigestion.' He glanced into the kitchen. 'I would love a cup of coffee, and maybe a slice of toast and marmalade.'
'Go away,' said Sian.
'You look pale,' he suddenly commented, staring, then said, 'Oh, no—I see what it is, you aren't wearing any make-up. What pale skin you have naturally—your eyelids look almost transparent.'
'Don't stand so close,' she said huskily, and bolted into the kitchen because having him merely inches away was nerve-racking.
He followed and coolly sat down at the table. 'I'm hungry again. Reading that article made me lose my appetite.'
She poured him coffee and made him toast in grim silence, then sat down and finished her muesli.
Cass ate his toast while she pretended to read the morning paper he had brought with him. 'I suppose you have to read all the papers to keep abreast of what the opposition is doing,' he said and she made a vague, agreeing noise behind the paper.
'But you haven't seen the other papers this morning?' he continued, and she made an equally vague noise that meant no, she had not.
Cass said, 'Ah,' and she stiffened, suddenly picking up a note in his voice that she wasn't happy with. She peered over the top of the paper and saw him grinning to himself. She wasn't happy with that, either.
'What's amusing you?' she asked suspiciously.
Cass finished his coffee and leaned back in his chair, his hands linked behind his head and his grey eyes mocking.
'You'll find out. Can I give you a lift to work?'
She was tempted to refuse, but that would have been cutting off her nose to spite her face, and a lift would be a luxury, especially as she had now been delayed and might otherwise be late, so she said coolly that that would be very nice.
'I won't be more than five minutes getting ready,' she assured him, making for the bathroom.
'Famous last words,' said Cass tolerantly, but she was back before he expected her. She had given her face a delicate make-up: a film of very light foundation and then a gentle brushing with powder, shimmering blue on her lids, then the merest touch of mascara on her lashes, and finally a soft rose-pink on her mouth. Her mirror showed her the image she wanted—her blonde hair framed a coolly sophisticated face, and she felt she would be able now to keep Cass at a distance without losing her temper or her dignity.
He stood up when she came back, and then paused to stare. She pretended not to realise he was Staring. 'Can we go, then?' She would have to leave the muddle of breakfast things until she got back tonight, she thought.
'Oh. Yes. Of course,' he said in an oddly disjointed, husky way, and her heart turned over and over, like a salmon leaping upstream. The sensation was peculiar and left her breathless as they went out to his car. She couldn't think of anything to say all the way to her office. Cass seemed abstracted, too, and dropped her outside the building with a curt nod as she got out, but although he didn't say anything she felt him staring after her as she walked across the pavement and through the swing doors. Sian was wearing a straight-cut blue silk dress: tight-waisted and clinging. Every step she took, her body swayed inside the dress, forced to that motion by the style of the dress and her high heels. She had worn the dress before without being so tensely aware of being watched, but for some inexplicable reason Cass's stare made her throat tighten and her skin burn.
The receptionist in the lobby was reading a paper; over the top of it she suddenly saw Sian and her eyes rounded. She audibly giggled. Sian looked hard at her and at the paper she was reading. Her heart sank. What had the other papers printed to make Cass drop meaningful hints and this girl giggle?
She soon found out. Leo had them all on his desk and furiously read bits out to Sian in between gobbling like an enraged turkey cock about loyalty, and did she really want her job or was she about to become Mrs Cassidy and give up work altogether?
'Look, he took me out to dinner—big deal,' Sian said boldly, chin up. 'So what? It's all a storm in a teacup, and I didn't ring in with a story because I'm not using myself as copy, for you or anyone.'
Leo showed her his teeth and she backed. They were a horrible sight. 'Do I have to put a reporter on your tail?' he threatened, and she blenched.
'You can't do that! I work for you!'
'You're also providing all our rivals with some Technicolor copy, while we get zilch,' Leo growled.
'Be reasonable, Leo!' she pleaded.
'I am being reasonable. I ought to fire you, but I'll give you another chance. From now on, I want to get any stuff about you and Cassidy before the rest of Fleet Street hears a word. Or you are out.'
She was infuriated. 'What do you want me to do? Issue a minute-by-minute diary of my social engagements in future?'
The sarcasm was water off an editor's back. 'Yes,' Leo said. 'If Cassidy's involved, yes.' He waved a lordly hand. 'Get back to work. What do you think we pay you for?'
'I'm beginning to wonder,' she told him bitterly. 'I thought I was here to report the news, not make it.'
'Quite the wit,' he sneered.
'Talking about the news, why aren't I being sent out of town on stories?' she attacked, and he looked shifty.
'I don't organise the office. I suppose it's your turn to stay in London.'
Sian didn't believe a word of it. They were deliberately keeping her in town so that she could see Cass and they could follow her romantic entanglement, along with the rest of the media. Giving Leo a murderous look, she stormed back to her desk.
She was out of the office for most of the day on a London story, but late in the afternoon she was working at her screen, tidying up her copy before sending it down to the subs, when Leo sent for her again.
'It's urgent,' the messenger said when Sian made furious faces and doggedly went on checking her copy on the computer screen.
She set her teeth and despatched her copy with a gesture of resignation before getting up. What did Leo want now?
Leo's secretary gave her a quick signal, and she paused before going into his office. 'What is it, Lucy?'
His secretary leaned over to whisper. 'He's got someone with him…Mrs Cassidy!' Her saucer eyes held a mixture of pity, fascination and shock, and Sian went red, then white.
'Mrs Cassidy?' She had read a great deal about William Cassidy over the past few days; she had ransacked the cuttings library and references books for every detail about him, but nowhere had she read that he had ever married. 'Mrs Cassidy?' she said again, frowning and feeling faintly sick.
The office door opened and Leo looked out, perhaps having heard her voice. He gave her an urgent beckoning of the head, his hand winding her forward at the same moment. Aloud, he said, 'Ah, there you are, Sian!' with a horrible enthusiasm meant for the consumption of whoever was in his office, rather than for Sian herself. 'Come along in!' he added, grimacing at her out of sight of his visitor.
' "Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly," ' Sian murmured, and his secretary giggled.
'What did you say?' scowled Leo, and she walked past him, smiling sweetly at him without answering.
Her eyes fled across the room to find the other occupant, and stopped dead as she saw the woman sitting by the desk. One thing was obvious. This wasn't Cass's ex-wife. She was far too old, her hair white, even though it was still copious and very long. She wore it piled high upon her head, pinned there with an ornate Spanish comb, giving her a dignified air which matched the black dress she wore: elegant and discreet, with a touch of white lace at collar and cuffs. She wore diamonds, too, though; in her ears and on her hands. They flashed blue fire as she held out one hand to Sian.
'You must be Sian. I'm so pleased to meet you.'
'Sian, this is Mrs Cassidy,' Leo said, bustling over.
The older woman turned blindingly blue eyes on him and smiled. 'Would you mind if we had a few moments alone? Would it inconvenience you if we borrowed your office for a few moments?'
'No, of course not,' Leo said fulsomely, backing
like someone in the presence of royalty, bowing his way to the door. 'Be my guest… excuse me…'
Sian watched him go, then looked curiously at the white-haired woman still clasping her hand. She was either someone very important and powerful, or she had the personality to knock Leo off his feet. Sian had never seen him so humble and awed. The door closed behind him and Mrs Cassidy smiled at her.
'Now we can talk,' she said, and Sian warily smiled back.
'What are we going to talk about?' she politely enquired, her green eyes reserved.
'Cass.' The older woman's voice was half amused.
Sian knew that, of course; there could be no other reason for her to be there, but Sian knew his parents were dead.
'I'm not quite clear who…'
'I am? I'm sorry, my dear—I suppose I thought you would guess. I'm Lorna Cassidy, William's aunt.'
'Aunt?' Sian was surprised by that; Cass hadn't said he had an aunt.
'By marriage, of course. My husband was his father's brother. They are all dead now, unhappily; I'm the last of my generation in the family. I didn't have any children of my own, and I think of William almost as a son, especially since his mother died.'
'Oh, I see,' Sian said, still wary because she suspected the other woman's motives in being here. Was she about to be asked to stop seeing Cass? Or threatened? Or even blackmailed? After all she had learnt about the Cassidy family, nothing would surprise her. No doubt Magdalena had asked her aunt to visit the newspaper and put the fear of God into Sian! Well, she needn't bother. None of them need worry, the mighty Cassidy clan! Sian was no danger to them; it was still Annette Cass loved, and Sian had too much self-respect to let him go on using her either for amusement or as a smokescreen.
'Like everyone else, I've been reading the papers,' Mrs Cassidy said.
Sian nodded without comment. Of course she had! Why else would she be here?
'I'm grateful to you, Sian. May I call you Sian, by the way? Such a lovely name, simple but delightful. I was horrified when my sister-in-law chose to call her little girl Magdalena, but then Enid was always one for going over the top. Magda takes after her in that. My brother-in-law chose the boys' names; good solid English names, so much more sensible.'
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