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“Why do you ask?” Benedict’s tone was non-commital.
“Is it true?” The kid shifted from foot to foot and cast the building a look laced with doubt.
“Is what true?”
“Does Lady Cassandra Hervey live here? You know, that British heiress that disappeared into thin air a few years back.” His tone was incredulous. “I don’t reckon she does. My editor likes to give herself a laugh by sending me out on time wasting assignments every now and again.”
Benedict smiled wolfishly, revealing a row of even, white teeth. “This isn’t a waste of your time.”
Just like that, he’d done it. He’d cast the dye, and Cassandra would never forgive him.
He shouldn’t have cared. He’d known all along that their relationship couldn’t last. However, it gave him surprisingly little pleasure to expose her now. His mouth set in a grim line, he didn’t bother knocking on the front door of their small, cheery apartment. He inserted the keycard and pushed it open.
Cassandra spun around, and when she looked at him, her violet eyes were wide with the pain of betrayal.
“You did this.” She whispered, nodding in the direction of the kitchen window, from which she had a birdseye view of the assembled photographers. She was shaking like a leaf.
He nodded, his expression unrepentant.
“Why?” She crossed her arms and the action dragged his attention to her heaving swell of cleavage. He fought the surge of attraction that was, even now, besieging his limbs. This was not the time. Damn it, with them, it was always the time.
His black eyes glittered with what she perceived as cruelty. “The certainty of my belief that you would run away again left me little choice.”
She glanced guiltily to the floor beside her and his eyes followed the telltale action. There, in the middle of the kitchen, was a Louis Vuitton suitcase, stuffed full, no doubt packed in haste.
Cherie, tiny, with mousy brown hair and a permanently worried expression, came to stand beside her best friend. “What’s this all about, Ben?” She asked, wrapping an arm around Cassandra’s slender waist.
Cassandra shot him a panicked expression. “Let’s talk in my bedroom,” she said, her tone pleading with him.
Resolutely, he narrowed his gaze. “Why, Cass? Don’t you think it’s time for your friends to know who you really are?”
Cassandra’s eyes were huge in the middle of her face. She shook her he
ad firmly, her lips were pressed together with desperation.
Cherie’s expression assumed an even greater look of worry, if that was possible. “Of course we know who she is. So do you. What is going on between the two of you?” She demanded, looking from one to the other.
“Don’t do this to me, please.” Cassandra intoned flatly. “I don’t want to go back.”
Her request fell on deaf ears. “Peter and Alyssia are boarding a flight as we speak. Your father is, as you may imagine, anxious to be reunited with you.”
She could feel a sob welling inside of her and she dug her fingernails into her palms to hold her emotions in check. “You had no right!” She reached down and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “I won’t be here when they arrive. I won’t.”
“Like hell you won’t be.” He crossed the room, every step he took radiating tension and determination. He lifted her slight frame over his shoulder with ease.
“Put me down!” She cried in shock, pummelling his back with her small fists. Cherie watched on in complete shock. She’d known Ben since almost as soon as Kate had started dating him, and he’d always seemed wonderful. Sexy as all hell, and besotted with her mate. This barbaric he-man act was bizarre, and totally out of the blue.
“Put her down or I’ll, er, call the police,” Cherie said tentatively, waving her mobile in the air to add gravitas to the weak statement.
“Good. Tell them Lady Cassandra Hervey has been hiding out at your house. She’s wanted for questioning over a million pound theft.” He paused, letting the words sink in to Cherie and the two men Cassandra lived with, who had emerged from the lounge to investigate the noise. “What is the penalty for harbouring a fugitive?” He pondered aloud, almost enjoying the panic in the room. Even Cass, over his shoulder, had gone limp at his words.
“Lady who?” Timothy asked uncertainly, rubbing a hand through his cropped, bleached hair.
“Lady Cassandra Hervey.” His laugh was without humour, and it left Cassandra with a coldness in her spine. “Allow me to introduce you to the esteemed Lady Cassandra herself. Oh, she’s just like you really. Only her mother was a Duchess. Her father’s a duke, and she has a trust fund of three hundred million pounds in her name. In her spare time, she likes to moonlight as a high class jewellery thief. Other than that, she’s just the same girl you thought you’ve always known.”
Cherie’s face drained of colour as she absorbed this information. “It can’t be...” She shook her head uncertainly. She and Kate had first bonded over their crummy university budgets. They’d shared secrets over tins of baked beans and leftover sandwiches. They had gone halves in clothes so they could dress fashionably for half the cost. Her eyes had a sheen of hurt as she looked at her best friend. A woman she apparently didn’t really know anything about.
“Cassandra will be staying with me from here on.” Benedict’s tone was dictatorial and no one dared object. They were all too stunned to intervene. “It is no longer safe for Lady Cassandra to live here, now that her identity is known.”
