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But here, tonight, sitting next to him at a dinner that she wanted to be a success, she suddenly felt her nerves pull as taught as they could. “Dad, Alyssia,” She greeted, forcing a polite smile to her face.
“Would you like a drink, Cass?” Alyssia asked, holding the red wine bottle aloft, poised over Cassandra’s glass. Cass held her slim fingers across the top and shook her head in denial.
“I’d kill for a water, though,” she said, looking around and immediately catching the eye of two waiters, hovering nearby. They practically raced to her side, the original attendant pipped to the post by a new entrant for Cassandra’s affections. Benedict’s grin was wry, but his temper was rising. She simply had to look at a man to have him ready to propose. No wonder he thought he felt something as serious as love for her. What man was powerless to resist her charms?
Dinner was a farce. For Benedict, at least. It went well enough for the other three, and on some level, he was pleased to see his cousin making a real effort with Cassandra. And as for Cassandra, she’d turned on the megawatt charm, evidently deciding to put the past behind her. It should have pleased him, but it didn’t.
Cassandra was intelligent, and she was a skilled conversationalist. Benedict realised that they’d spent three hours around a table, without having really said a damned thing. Vapid and polite conversation, stories about people they didn’t know. It was all so ...insincere. He gave full marks to Cassandra for soldiering through it, but he knew her so well. Every delectable inch of her, he knew, and would never forget. Every twist of her mouth, every slant of her eyes, even the way she brought her fingers to her blonde hair and twirled the long strands around her finger, communicated to him that she was acting. Pretending.
And it unfurled doubt inside of him. He’d been looking for a reason to dissuade himself of his feelings for her, and she was giving it to him. He had believed her to be an expert manipulator, and now, he had proof. Peter was eating out of the palm of her hand, and even Alyssia was tripping over herself to make peace with the wealthy heiress.
Had it been this easy with him? Benedict’s eyes glinted in his dark face as he watched her carefully. Their first date had lasted nine hours, and they’d talked all night. He had avoided calling Alyssia for three months and exposing Cassandra’s whereabouts. Yes, it was fair to say she’d wrapped him around her little finger with a minimum of effort, too.
Her eyes flicked across to him, suddenly, and locked with his steely gaze. He felt the burning heat fly between them, sensed her feel it too, from the way her shoulders tightened and her mouth opened to suck in a breath of air.
That had not been faked. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes too, and it was because of him. His mood darkened.
Anxious to get rid of Peter and Alyssia, and needing only to be alone with Cassandra, he stood and made his way to the waiter’s station to pay the bill. He couldn’t be damned waiting for one of the love-sick puppy waiters to bring a slip to him. Let them fawn over Cassandra all they wanted. They were out of their depth with her.
As his black Amex was scanned through the machine, he saw Cassandra stand. He was attuned to her every movement, and his eyes followed her across the crowded restaurant. She passed within a few feet of the front desk, a huge smile on her beautiful face, her eyes downturned but her step joyous. “Cassandra,” He grabbed her wrist, and saw the smile die immediately.
She pulled her wrist away and put her hands behind her back, looking at him expectantly.
“Yes? What is it, Benedict?” She asked coolly, when he didn’t speak.
Unused to feeling on the back foot, he matched her demeanour. “You seem unusually happy. Has something happened?”
“Nothing I want to discuss with you,” she answered honestly, and walked away from him swiftly.
Benedict was back at the table when Cassandra rejoined it.
“Would you like to come shopping with me tomorrow, Cass?” Alyssia offered as they stood, preparing to leave the restaurant.
Cassandra could think of about seventy two million things she’d prefer to do ahead of watching her stepmother spend her father’s money, but she was determined to get through the rest of their trip without any major disasters. It was a blessedly short amount of time remaining – three days. She could survive that.
She shook her head, hopeful that she’d injected wistfulness into her small smile. “I have something on,” she said, feigning disappointment.
Benedict’s dark stare penetrated her soul, as it had been doing all evening. Damn him, and his oversized gift of perception. She knew he’d be able to see right through her, and the knowledge made her uncomfortable. Especially as she was outright lying to his cousin, just now.
“Shame,” Alyssia coo-ed, and Cassandra was pretty sure the other woman had not been convinced either.
“Dinner tomorrow night, then,” Benedict found himself offering out of nowhere. “I have a yacht moored in the harbour. Let’s dine al fresco and on water.”
Cassandra threw him a look that clearly communicated she believed him to be deranged. Dinner on that boat? Of course, it would be the same luxury yacht he’d taken her to right at the start of their relationship. It had been one of the best nights of her life. He’d told her the yacht belonged to ‘the’ company, and that it was his for the night. Oh, it hadn’t been a lie, exactly. He’d just been very economical with the truth. ‘The’ company was Savarin Incorporated, the global conglomerate he’d built from the ground up. And the yacht was his for that night, and every other.
None of that had occurred to her though, as they’d eaten fresh Sydney Rock Oysters and watched the sunset, and made long, slow love beneath an inky sky on a boat that lapped gently beneath them all night long.
How could she go back? And with her dad and Alyssia, and no way to escape early? Madness. Her father and Alyssia did not seem to share her doubts and were agreeing with enthusiasm. It would have been churlish to be the only person not enthusiastic about the plan and so she found herself smiling sweetly at Benedict.
“Sounds heavenly,” she simpered, the edge of sarcasm only detectable to him, the eyelashes batting furiously purely for his benefit.
“Doesn’t it?” He drawled mockingly.
Whilst Peter and Alyssia were heatedly debating the merits of taking a taxi over walking the short distance to their accommodation, Benedict bent down and whispered into Cassandra’s ear, “Do you need me to teach you a lesson on polite behaviour?”
His words sent shivers up her spine but she glared back at him. “I don’t think you’d have much to teach me about that.”
His lips twisted into a small smile. “I could teach you what not to do,” he pretended to be considering it.
