Call Me Casanova, Book Two: An Affair to Forget

by D. C. Chagnon

  Call Me Casanova, Book Two: An Affair to Forget

  D.C. Chagnon

  PUBLISHED BY:

  D.C. Chagnon

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manny. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Other Books in the Call Me Casanova Trilogy

  Call Me Casanova, Book One: What Meets the Eye

  Call Me Casanova, Book Three: The Better Man

  ILoveDPG

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Vote Of Confidence

  Chapter Two: Look But Don't Touch

  Chapter Three: One More Last Time

  Chapter Four: Straight From The Heart

  Chapter Five: Parting Of Ways

  Other Books by D.C. Chagnon

  Chapter One: Vote Of Confidence

  “I thought you might like to take dinner on the veranda.” Gregory led the way to the small table on the covered veranda then motioned for Abbott to take a seat. “It's a warm evening.”

  Abbott smiled and nodded as he sat down. “Thank you, Gregory.” he said. “It is nice to be outside.”

  Cassandra started to slide out her chair when Gregory stepped around and grabbed it, pulling it back and directing her to sit. “Allow me, m'lady.” Cassandra shot a quick look at her father who seemed pleased by Gregory's chivalry. Oh daddy, don't be fooled. He's just playing a part. She sat down nonetheless and was startled when Gregory didn't join them.

  “Your dinner will be ready promptly.” he said.

  “You will be joining us?” Abbott asked.

  A smile curved Gregory's lips, but beneath the pleasantness he offered her father was a shimmer of cynicism as he replied, “My orders are to look after but not intermingle.” A strong lace of bitterness wrapped around the word orders. “I am simply here to see to your wishes.”

  “Well, then, my good man.” Abbott smiled. “I wish for you to join us. We both do.” He looked at Cassandra. “Don't we, dear?”

  What could she say—No, father, I'd rather he not because we had hot sex last night and his presence just makes me want a replay? “Of course.”

  The somewhat self-satisfied look that danced through Gregory's eyes caused Cassandra's fingers to tingle with the need to slap him. He'd probably like it, she mused sourly and kept her hands to herself.

  He took the chair to her left, across from her father. “Are your quarters satisfactory?” Gregory asked Abbott.

  “Yes. Excellent.” The older man nodded and smiled.

  “If you need anything.” Gregory said. “You just let me know.”

  Abbott chuckled. “I'm good, son.” he said, then chuckled again. “I'm an easy keeper.”

  Shaking her head, Cassandra looked at her father. “You talk about yourself like you're a horse, daddy.”

  Lifting his eyebrows, Abbott winked at Gregory. “Sometimes I feel like one.”

  “Oh, daddy.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, then laughed softly. The man's eyes twinkled when he gazed at her, but the weariness was becoming more and more evident. Her lips pressed tight, and she glanced away, feeling a light sting to her eyes. It caused an unbearable ache deep in her heart to know she didn't have much time left with him.

  When their dinner arrived, Cassandra was shocked to see her father served sirloin steak. “This isn't what I ordered for my father.” she told the servant, a sternness in her voice.

  The middle-aged woman glanced uncertainly at Gregory then started to speak when Gregory intervened. “I changed the menu.” He looked at the older woman and smiled. “It's okay, Paula; you can go.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  When she was gone, Cassandra glared at Gregory. “My father can't eat this.” A note of anger squeezed her words. “He has a specific diet.”

  “Sweetheart.” Abbott spoke up. “Calm down. Don't get upset with Gregory. I made a special request.”

  Her eyes remained heavily on Gregory for a moment then shifted to her father. “Daddy, you know your health doesn't permit this type of diet. It isn't good for you.”

  Abbott's eyes softened. “What is good for me at this point, dear?” he asked. “Eating fish or boiled chicken instead of steak isn't going to make a whole lot of difference now.” he smiled. “And I'd really hate to go out with the taste of fish in my mouth.”

  “Daddy, that's not funny.” Cassandra whispered. “It isn't a joke.”

  “I know it isn't, sweetheart,” he said softly, “but it is reality. If we live in fear of the inevitable, what time we have left here is wasted.”

  Her eyes stinging, Cassandra stood up. “I'm really not very hungry.” she whispered thickly and left the table, feeling Gregory's eyes following her.

  ___________________

  “Boy, I've really got the touch, don't I?” Gregory murmured as he watched the young woman return inside.

  Abbott smiled warmly. “It isn't about you, son.” he said. “She isn't really angry at you or even me. She's angry at life and events that are out of her control.”

  Gregory gazed at the older man, an uncharacteristic ache creeping through his chest. “Is it that bad?” he asked quietly.

  A low sigh seeped out of Abbott. “Afraid so.”

  A knot swelled in Gregory's throat, startling him. He didn't allow himself to get close to anyone, and yet this man had taken hold of him the very moment they met. “I'm sorry.” he offered sincerely. “Lord knows, this world can't afford to lose another good man. It's lacking as it is.”

  Abbott smiled. “Maybe you can fill in for me.”

  Me—fill in for you? Gregory's throat tightened even more, but he pushed out a short laugh that lacked humor. He stared at his plate. “I couldn't begin to fill in for you, Abbott.” He lifted his eyes. “I'll never be the man you are.”

  The warmth and affection in the older man's eyes as he gazed at him nearly caused Gregory to break down like a little child. “You already are, Gregory.” he said gently, sincerely. “You just don't know it yet. Remember—I used to be where you are now. And you will get to where I am. I have no doubt about that.”

  The man's faith and belief in his goodness and worth left Gregory at a loss for words. No one had ever viewed him as a man of potential. His own father basically threw money at him and turned him loose because he didn't think Gregory was truly useful or good for anything of consequence. And he had accepted the role, finding it easier to just let the money and women dull his senses than try to gain the respect and affection of a man who clearly had no use for him. At the start, he had made the attempt, longing to be on the same level with his father as Preston. But it hadn't taken long for him to understand that would never happen. So he had finally said Fuck it! and accepted the role thrust on him. They thought he was useless? Well, he had decided to show them just how useless he could be.

  “Thank you.” Gregory smiled. “For your vote of confidence.” He shrugged and chuckled low. “One vote is better than none at all.”

  Abbott reached over and gripped Gregory's wrist gently. “When I was like you . . . I didn't even have one.” He smiled and squeezed his wrist with affection. “I had to learn to have confidence in myself, decide on my own that I had potential and worth.” He drew back and gazed at the younger man seriously. �
��You will be amazed once you start believing in yourself . . . how quickly others will hop on the bandwagon with you.”

  It all sounded well and good, but Gregory had no experience believing in himself as anything other than a playboy. Even that, however, was part of his revenge against his father. How am I supposed to know where to start?

  Chapter Two: Look But Don't Touch

  The structure inside was pristine with a polished corridor floor between the rows of stalls on each side, polished leather bridle and saddle for each horse, and electronic stall doors. Cassandra felt as if she were walking through an equine museum rather than a stable that housed living breathing animals.

  A large black sleek horse dropped its head over the stall door, and she approached it slowly. Her father had denied her very little, and she'd had her fair share of horses, but as she'd grown older, it seemed there was less and less time to spend with them. She missed the tranquility of equine company. There was just something in a horse's eyes that said they understood—no matter what it was. And you could cry on their shoulder without them judging or asking an endless string of questions as to why you were sad or hurting or scared. They just let you be and loved you without condition.

  “Hey there.” she murmured and lifted her hand cautiously, flattening her palm of the animal's face. It allowed her to rub its face without resistance. “You're sure a beautiful thing.” She looked at the polished brass nameplate on the stall door: Wild At Heart. She smiled. “I bet that's a fitting name, huh? What's your nickname, hmm?”

  “Wiley.”

  Cassandra jumped when Gregory appeared at her side. She swallowed tight and continued to stroke the horse's face. “Wiley?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled and moved to stand across from her, the horse's head between them. “Like Wile E. Coyote. He's kind of crazy that way. Maybe should have named him Captain Insane-o.”

  Sliding her hand slowly up its face, combing her fingers through the soft forelock, she murmured, “Is he really that bad?”

  Gregory chuckled again and rubbed his hand down the animal's sleek neck. “Nah. He's fine. I'm just a shitty horseman.” He sighed and smiled as he looked at her with probing eyes. “But I'm sure that comes as no surprise.”

  “And that's supposed to mean . . . what?” Cassandra asked, a measure of tightness to her voice. Was he feeling sorry for himself that people just assumed he wasn't good at anything other than fucking? But, oh god, he is good at that. Her face pinched at the unbidden and frankly unwelcome thought.

  Shrugging, Gregory said, “Nothing.” He ducked his head and stared at the floor for a long moment, then spoke without looking up. “I'm sorry . . . for interfering with your father.”

  Cassandra wasn't sure what to say; she hadn't expected an apology. If anything, she would have expected him to defend his decision to butt in. “He didn't seem to mind.” she mumbled, still angry at them both, to a degree.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Gregory raised his eyes. “Nevertheless . . . it won't happen again. You have my word on it.” He chuckled. “Whatever that's worth.”

  Cassandra met his gaze. “It's worth plenty . . . if you're a man of your word. If you're not, then I don't suppose it's worth anything.”

  “I am,” Gregory said, “a man of my word.”

  Nodding slowly, Cassandra turned her attention back to the horse. “I guess we'll see.” She glanced at him. “Won't we?”

  “Indeed.” he murmured. He pushed away from the stall. “It's getting dark. Want me to walk you back?”

  “Somehow I think that the only thing to fear out in the dark . . .” She smiled dryly. “. . . is you.”

  Gregory inched closer, his voice lowering. “You didn't seem scared of me last night.” He smirked. “Seemed right at home in the dark with me.”

  God, was that just last night? It seemed ages ago. “I wasn't myself last night.” she said quietly.

  “Then who were you?”

  “A woman who had had too much wine.” she admitted, though it wasn't true.

  Gregory chuckled. “Now you sound like a man. Blaming your indiscretions on drunkenness.” He stepped a little closer, and suddenly the heat of his body was overwhelming though he wasn't touching her. “But you weren't . . . inebriated, darling. In fact, I believe you were quite lucid.” He smiled, his eyes heavy. “Perhaps you were looking for one last escape into ecstasy before taking the plunge with straight-laced Preston.”

  “Last night had nothing to do with Preston.” she lied, recalling how bleak her future had seemed that previous evening. And that bleakness hadn't faded with the morning light.

  “So you're . . .” He flipped his hand and shrugged. “. . . fine with this arranged marriage?”

  Cassandra swallowed tightly. “Yes. I am.”

  “Let me ask you this then.” he said. “Have you met my brother?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “And you're still willing to marry him?” Gregory cocked a sharp eyebrow and smirked.

  Turning away from the stall, Cassandra began to walk back toward the entrance. “It's a necessary sacrifice.” she said stiffly. “Which I realize is surely a foreign concept to you.”

  Gregory caught up and matched her pace, non-phased by her patronizing remark. “So you admit it's a sacrifice.”

  “It's business” was all she returned.

  “Well, fuck, isn't that romantic.” Gregory chuckled. “I'll bet you have some hot steamy nights ahead of you.”

  Cassandra sighed. Her gut pinched at his words; yes, she had met Preston Stanton and felt not even a spark of attraction. He reminded her of a life-size Ken doll and often wondered since making his acquaintance if he were even anatomically correct under his pin-striped double-breasted suit.

  Next to her, Gregory kept time with her steps. Even with his playboy demeanor, the man still retained an elegance that Preston had yet to obtain. And it was for damn sure Gregory Stanton was anatomically correct under his expensive suit. His remark hung heavy in the evening air. “Not everything is about romance and sex.” she said. “Sometimes responsibility takes precedence.”

  Gregory slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Your father honestly expects you to marry my brother?” His brow pinched with confusion. “Has he met him?”

  Cassandra stopped so suddenly that Gregory took a few extra steps before realizing she wasn't beside him. He turned and faced her. “My father isn't making me do this.” she said tightly. “But it is what he wants. And he has given me what he thinks is best all my life, I'm not going to go against his wishes now.”

  Gazing at her for a long silent moment, Gregory shifted and cocked his head. “Does Abbott know how miserable all this is making you?”

  “I'm not miserable.” How the hell did he do that—read her like an open book? Was it really that obvious?

  “My mistake.” Gregory said. “I must've missed the happy dance when you first learned you were being set up to marry a prick.”

  “Look.” Cassandra started walking again. “I realize that you and your brother don't get along, but I believe Preston will make a fine husband.”

  A soft chuckle vibrated Gregory's chest. “You can say all that without gagging? You are a strong woman. Maybe you can survive this arrangement after all.”

  In truth, the urge to vomit had been present. Nothing about Preston screamed great-husband material. She wondered if his body was as rigid to the touch as it appeared or if it even possessed an ounce of warmth to its flesh. A sigh slipped loose. “I really don't care to discuss this with you, Gregory.”

  “You know,” he said, “I liked it better when you called me Casanova.”

  “I never called you Casanova—you did.”

  “Ah, perhaps you didn't say it out loud.” He grinned. “But you were thinking it.”

  God, I hate this man.

  ___________________

  God, this woman drives me wild.

  Never in all his life had Gregory felt the danger of falling. But this wo
man had him teetering on the brink of the abyss he had always been so careful to avoid. What was it about her?

  Back in the Manor house, she went to her room with barely a good night and no hope of a good-night kiss or anything else. Gregory made his way to his own bedroom and dropped on the bed. His crotch throbbed like a son of a bitch. Being in Cassandra's presence nearly all day had fueled his desire for the woman, and memories of last night only caused it to burn hotter. He knew what he was missing. Her scent still filled up his nostrils, her flavor still strong on his tongue. And her tight, soft, wet caverns squeezing his cock.

  An agonized groan slithered up Gregory's throat. He didn't fancy going to bed alone and especially not when the only woman who made him want to come back for more was just down the hall. So close, and yet she might as well have been a world away.

  The urge to beat off was nearly unbearable, but it wasn't his hand he longed to fuck.

  “Shit.” he moaned and sat up. Maybe a swim in the pool would calm his body and help relax him so he could fall asleep once he came back to bed. He left his room and only paused briefly as he passed Cassandra's door, then returned downstairs and went to the back side of the manor to the large, outdoor pool.

  Standing at the edge of the water, he began to shed his clothes.

  ___________________

  Tension had gripped Cassandra when she heard Gregory leave his room just a very short while after entering. His footsteps had faltered outside her door, and a part of her had willed him to keep moving while another part was begging him to come inside. But he had moved on.

  You can't be playing with this man. Preston and his father will be here in just a couple days. Get your head in the game, girl; remember your duty to your father.

  Cassandra pulled on a short sheer nightgown and started to crawl into bed when the sudden splash of water drew her to the window. The lights inside the pool illuminated Gregory's nude body as he swam laps back and forth from one end of the pool to the other. Oh god, this isn't helping. Not one bit.

  As she watched, he dragged himself up to sit on the edge of the pool, then lay back, running his fingers through his wet hair. His strong body glistened wet and, even from a distance, the stiffness of his cock was evident. The visual, physical evidence of his desire for her burned her body from the inside out.