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The graduation ceremony was scheduled to last a couple of hours. The students from the arts faculty were numerous, and the auditorium was packed with family members and friends. Cherie’s parents, who had never accepted that their daughter had turned her back on a career in medicine, were conspicuously absent. And Cassandra knew better than to expect anyone would be there for her. She hadn’t even told her father that she had graduated university.
About an hour after proceedings had commenced, Cassandra’s name was announced. She made her way to the stage, feeling a burst of pride in herself. Despite her personal devastation, this achievement was a small island of contentment. She took her degree, posed for a photograph and then walked slowly off stage. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a familiar looking dark head and did a double take, her violet eyes narrowing as she skidded to a stop halfway down the stairs. She scanned the crowd again, but she couldn’t see him.
Fool! Of course he wasn’t there. Benedict Savarin was over the other side of the globe, wheeling and dealing and wining and dining. She was a figment of his past. One that he was probably doing everything he could to obliterate. The sooner she accepted that they were truly over, the better.
After the ceremony, the four of them headed out to the forecourt, where a reasonably austere finger food buffet had been put on, along with some nasty champagne. Cassandra had never been more pleased that she didn’t drink.
“Watch out world,” Ryan said smilingly. “The awesome foursome is out of school and ready to roll!” He held his glass aloft in a toast to them and they chinked glasses. It was the most normal Cassandra had felt in a long time.
“Cassandra.” A familiar voice made her go deathly still. The smile dropped from her face like an egg cracking from its shell and she spun around, so that her blonde hair whipped against her pale cheek.
“What the hell are you doing here, Savarin?” Timothy asked, coming to stand in front of Cassandra. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve.”
A muscle ticked in the side of Benedict’s jaw. He hadn’t slept properly in seventy two hours, and he’d just crisscrossed the globe all to speak to Cassandra. He didn’t particularly want to duke it out with a university kid, but he would if he had to.
“Cassandra, can we talk?” He said over Timothy’s head.
“No,” Cherie intoned flatly. “You have no business being here, Benedict. This is a special day for us. You’re only going to ruin it for Cass.” She gave him a caustic frown. “Though I guess you like ruining things in Cassandra’s life.”
He was unaccustomed to being spoken to like this by anyone, and yet he found their defence of Cassandra touching. And it made him like them all the better.
“You’re right.” He held his hands up. “Afterwards. Will you come to my penthouse?”
Cassandra shook her head, incapable of speech.
Ryan came to stand beside Timothy, his geeky face was unusually piqued. “I think you should leave, Savarin.” He said firmly.
“It’s important.” He ignored the others, and looked deep into Cassandra’s eyes. He saw the anguish there. The torment. They were so right to be hostile. He didn’t deserve her.
Cassandra’s skin felt flushed. Hot one second, cold the next, as though she had a bad fever. She shook her head again and swallowed. Benedict looked edible. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his square jaw line was liberally co
ating in stubble. His business shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and left out at the waist. His jeans were slung low. He looked casual. It wasn’t like him.
“This isn’t a good time.” She finally said, though her fingers itched to pull him to her. To drag his lips down to hers and press them firmly there. She dug her fingers into her palm until the nails bit painfully into the skin. And, because she couldn’t help it, “I thought you’d left.”
“I came back.” His voice was like a caress. Low, sweet, soft, breathing across space and time and folding around her.
She shivered. “I need to speak to you, too.”
His body flooded with relief. All he needed was an opening. He just needed her to listen. “This is where I’m staying temporarily. I’ll be home by ten o’clock. You can call me then.”
“Call you?”
“My number’s on the card.”
He nodded. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be dealing with this over the phone, but he wasn’t about to tip them off. Any of them.
“Til then.” He turned and walked away, and Cassandra watched him until he had completely disappeared from view.
“What a pig. I can’t believe he thinks he can call on you like that.” Timothy was outraged. Neither he nor Ryan knew of Cassandra’s pregnancy. She hadn’t felt right telling anyone else before she’d advised Benedict.
Over the past week, she’d worked out how she would phrase it. This was her baby, and she presumed he would want to be involved. But, if he didn’t, then that was just fine by her too. She had money, she had her degree, and she had friends. She would be able to manage. They both knew that a child was better with a parent that loved it completely, rather than being raised by a parent who was hands off to the point of neglect.
The rest of the afternoon dragged. She couldn’t bring herself to offend her dear friends, and so she went through with the plans they’d made months ago. Drinks at an inner city bar and dinner at the swankiest restaurant they could afford. To their credit, not a single one of them every suggested Cassandra could pick up the tab, nor did they make money even the tiniest issue. To them, she was still the same person as Kate Harris had been, and for that, she was indescribably grateful.
As the night drew to its end, Cassandra felt the bundle of nerves in her stomach knot tightly. She’d put a brave face on it, but the truth was, she was terrified. All of the celebratory noises that came from her were drawn out with extreme effort.
“I’ll see you home,” Cherie said firmly as they left the restaurant.
