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She was disappointed when he pulled away and came around to his own side of the car. Fool that she was, she had actually hoped he would kiss her. She must be some kind of glutton for punishment, to want anything more to do with this masochistic control freak.
“I don’t know what’s got into you tonight, Cassandra Hervey.” He muttered, starting the engine with a low, throaty growl.
“Don’t you?” She murmured, turning her head to look out of the window.
“You were rude to your father. Rude to your stepmother. You’re drunk. What would have happened if I weren’t here? Would you have gone home with that steroid pumped gym junkie?” He demanded, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white.
“Maybe,” She shrugged carelessly, though the very idea was abhorrent to her.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Cassandra. You’re behaving just like your reputation suggests.”
“What does it matter to you?” She fumed. “You’ve only been pretending to care for me to avenge your beloved cousin. Well, you did well. You fooled me! I never had any idea what a horrible, lying arsehole you were.”
“That’s a little of the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it, Cassandra? After all, you’ve been deceiving me from the first moment we met.”
“Stop it!” She cried out. “Stop lecturing me! I’
ve had enough lecturing to last a lifetime.” Then, as exhaustion overtook her, she mumbled sleepily, “I’m not your problem, Benedict. Not your problem.”
She’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t believe it. He was flushed with adrenalin, overflowing with unspent rage, and she’d fallen asleep. He glanced sideways as the traffic ahead slowed and his heart lurched at the sight of her. His feelings for her were so contradictory. On the one hand, he found her so aggravating that he could scream. It was entirely new to the always-in-control Benedict Savarin to lose his temper, and yet she drove it to him daily. On the other hand, she was so vulnerable somehow, that he wanted to protect her. To wrap her up in cotton wool and keep her safe and happy forever after. Happy like she had been only a matter of days ago.
He carried her upstairs once they’d reached his apartment and took her through to the guest bedroom. Her eyes flew wide as he laid her back on the bed, and instinctively, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him low to her body.
In her groggy state, Cass didn’t immediately remember that she hated Ben. She could smell his cologne, feel his warmth, and it had stirred a soul searing recognition in her body that defied logic.
“Mmmm,” She murmured, running her hands down his back. She pulled at his shirt and loosened it from his waistband, so that her fingers could touch the naked skin there.
“You know, I always loved it when you sang to me,” she murmured breathily.
“You’re drunk,” he answered, but she could hear a smile in his voice.
“Maybe I am.” She nodded against the pillows. “That would explain why I can see stars.”
“Too drunk to know what you’re saying. Or doing,” he exhaled tensely. He detached her arms and stood. The incongruous action woke her more fully. She clamoured into a sitting position.
“I... where am I?” She looked around, confused.
“In my apartment.” He stood resolutely a couple of feet from the bed. “Go to sleep, Cassandra.”
* * *
When Cass woke the next morning, memories of the previous night came back to her like little shards of broken glass. Each one stung. She groaned into her pillow. She’d been horrible. Horrendous. While she still felt that her father and stepmother had always treated her badly, that didn’t excuse her behaviour. She’d let emotions overrule common sense, and she owed them all an apology. Even Benedict.
She cringed inwardly when she remembered the scene in the bar. He had been right to chastise her. For someone who never drank, she’d put herself in a vulnerable position. Mind you, were it not for Benedict, she probably wouldn’t have lost her head so spectacularly.
Since this strange turn of events had been kicked into motion, she’d lost sight of who she’d become. The nineteen year old who let people see the worst in her, and then went out of her way to prove them right, had crept back in. Well, no longer. She’d changed since moving to Sydney, and it was time for her father and Alyssia to realise that. It wasn’t about earning their approval. She’d never sought it, and she didn’t want it now. But she needed to respect herself, and embarrassing carrying on like she’d indulged in last night was beneath her. She was quite ashamed.
She groaned again as she pulled herself out of bed. Her head felt like it had been cleaved in two, her mouth was dust dry.
She stumbled a little as she stood, grabbing the bedside table for support. On the wooden top, she saw a glass of water and beside it, two little white capsules. Paracetamol. Just when she thought Benedict was the lowest of the low, he went and did something so incredibly thoughtful. She placed the tablets on her tongue and gulped down the water, feeling a little queasy as it washed down.
“Never again.” She muttered as she tiptoed gingerly to her ensuite. The water from the shower helped to revive her a little, and by the time she’d dressed and brushed her hair, she felt almost human.
Her rude behaviour from the night before was weighing on her conscience, and although she’d prefer to walk naked over molten glass than show weakness to her stepmother, she knew she had to apologise. She cracked the door open and walked through it slowly, holding a hand to her eyes to block out the sunlight that pierced her brain with dagger like precision.
Voices drifted towards her from Benedict’s study and she walked lightly in that direction, having to hold the wall for support a little.
“I told you, Ben, she is the most insufferably over-indulged child I’ve ever met.” Unmistakably, Alyssia’s voice penetrated the fog of Cassandra’s brain. She froze, her heart racing so loudly that surely they must be able to hear it.
