Chapter 13
13
B ecause she was young and resilient, Cassie woke up the next day without a hangover despite the copious amounts of champagne she’d drunk.
But as she lay in bed, the sun beaming in from the gaps in the curtains that she hadn’t quite closed, slowly regaining full consciousness, she was hurting in all sorts of other places.
A soreness between her legs and a heaviness in her heart because simultaneously she’d had the best and worst sexual experience of her life.
She’d had two powerful orgasms, better than anything she’d ever achieved with her own fingers. That was good.
But every other part of the night, from that first moment when a stranger had sat down next to her, felt very … not good. Once again, like so many other occasions in her twenty-one years, Cassie tasted the bitter tang of rejection. What was so wrong with her that everyone upped and left?
She decided that the post-mortem on the events of the night before could wait. She was too fragile to confront the role she’d played in her own downfall. Also, she’d paid two hundred and fifty quid for a hotel room, which included breakfast, and Cassie was determined to get her money’s worth.
Showering brought it all back again. The bite marks, the faint bruises, on her breasts, her thighs. There was a condom in the bathroom bin and when Cassie walked back into her room and saw the empty bed, she felt as gut-punched as she had done the previous night when she realised that he’d done a runner.
She was stupid. So fucking stupid.
Because Cassie had expected him to come back. Or rather, she’d hoped he would. She’d told herself that perhaps he’d gone to get his pyjamas although clearly he wasn’t the sort of man who slept in pyjamas. But maybe he’d gone to get his washbag.
But he didn’t come back, and every reason that Cassie had come up with for his continued disappearance was worse than the last. That she was the worst shag he’d ever had. He’d only slept with her for a bet. Or he already had a girlfriend, or even a wife. A significant other that he’d slipped away from at the reception.
Not that she was blameless. Far from it. She’d willingly taken him back to her room. It had been consensual, at every stage. But it still felt as if he’d taken advantage of her. She’d been seduced by a master of the game while she hadn’t even read the instructions on the box.
Cassie stumbled down the stairs, the proper stairs this time, including the grand sweeping staircase that led to the imposing foyer. Not sneaked up the servants’ stairs like … like … like some kind of cheap scrubber. Breakfast was served in the hotel restaurant, which was just off the lobby.
Cassie paused in the entrance, suddenly mortified at the idea that she might come face to face with him , as she surveyed the many tables dressed with snowy white tablecloths and gleaming silverware. It was very smart and she was wearing her beloved black Juicy Couture tracksuit – a Christmas present from Emma, but it was still a tracksuit. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail and there wasn’t a scrap of make-up on her face. Whereas everyone else looked quite pulled together.
‘Cassie! Over here!’
Monique was summoning her with a frantic wave of the hand. Cassie hurried over to the table she was sharing with Lara, who was almost obscured by huge sunglasses and a white pashmina.
‘Where did you get to last night, you little tart?’ Monique asked affectionately as Cassie sat down.
‘Oh, um, I had an early night?’ It was more of a suggestion than a lie.
‘Was that before or after you got that love bite?’ Lara asked in a thick voice, her hand shaking as she tried to lift her coffee cup to her mouth. ‘Did you pull?’
Again, Cassie was young and hadn’t learned to keep her own counsel. Besides, it was a relief to confess everything (well almost everything) to Lara and Monique, who were an enthralled and receptive audience.
‘Then he just left and now I feel kind of weird about it,’ Cassie admitted as a server appeared with her full English breakfast. She’d already demolished eight tiny triangles of toast while she’d been waiting.
‘There’s no point stressing,’ Monique advised. ‘You got picked up by some hot stranger and had some hot sex. It happens.’
‘Chances are you’ll never see him again,’ Lara added. ‘I mean, I got stuck with a guy last night who wouldn’t shut up about his – and I quote – ‘fucking crazy ex-girlfriend’, but he’s a young farmer so I know our paths will never cross again.’
‘This guy was definitely not a young farmer,’ Cassie said. ‘He was half French, for one thing.’
‘There you go, he probably lives in France,’ Lara said. ‘He’s already left because he had to get the Eurostar or the ferry or whatever.’
Cassie brightened. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘And he showed you a good time, twice, and he used a condom both times, so you’re golden,’ Monique decided. ‘Now, shall we order some more toast?’
Cassie felt much better after a debrief and some complex carbohydrates. She left Monique and Lara at the table and decided to have a head-clearing walk around the grounds before they called a taxi to take them to the station.
As she slipped through the conservatory, out to the terrace, there was Russell, Lucy and …
Oh God …
Cassie backed up like a nervous filly approaching Becher’s Brook but it was too late.
‘Hello, sweetie. So sorry not to have had a chance to talk to you yesterday,’ Russell said, with a huge smile on his face, like he was pleased to see her.
‘Yes, the whole day was a bit of a blur,’ Lucy added. She had a radiance about her despite the puffy eyes of a late night and a lot of champagne. Like she was high on pure happiness. ‘I’m not even sure that we did actually get married.’
While this exchange was taking place, the tall, lean man they’d been talking to gave Cassie a dismissive once-over, then looked away because he clearly wasn’t at all pleased to see her.
‘Oh, hey, Lucy, Russell,’ Cassie said weakly, with a feeble wave. ‘Yeah, you definitely did get married.’
‘Well, come and give an old married couple a hug.’ Russell was already holding out his arms, Lucy too, because goddamn them, they were both huggers and Cassie didn’t have much choice but to walk over, heels dragging, eyes on the ground, for a quick and friendly three-sided hug. ‘Have you had a good time?’
‘It was lovely.’ Cassie nodded enthusiastically, her eyes fixed on Russell’s beaming face. ‘Lucy, you looked so beautiful. I loved your dress and the speeches were lovely. And everything was just … lovely.’
Every word that came out of her mouth made Cassie want to wince.
‘And you two know each other already,’ Lucy said, with a toothy grin because she was high on love and life.
Cassie steeled herself to glance from Russell and Lucy to their friend, who was looking at her impassively despite the fact that not even ten hours before, he’d had her bent over her bed while he fucked her.
‘We haven’t met,’ he said flatly.
Lucy frowned. ‘But I saw you leaving the marquee together last night.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Cassie said, a little desperately, wondering what she must have done in a past life to be punished so much in this one.
‘Just as well,’ Russell said, his arm looping around Cassie’s shoulders. ‘Cassie, this is Marc with a c.’
‘And Marc, this is Cassie also with a c,’ Lucy added.
‘But you’re to keep away from her because she is far too good and far too young for you,’ Russell warned as Cassie wondered whether it was possible to die from sheer embarrassment. Obviously not. ‘Cassie, also steer clear because I love Marc like a brother but he eats girls like you up for breakfast.’
‘Oh stop!’ Lucy punched Russell lightly on the arm. ‘Marc isn’t that bad.’
‘Well, I hope I’m not that good either.’ Marc held out his hand and Cassie had no choice but to shake it as briefly as she could. When she tried to retreat, he kept a hold of her for a fleeting moment, then let her go.
‘It was a pleasure.’ He smirked like he wasn’t talking about this awkward introduction but what they’d done the night before. Immediately Cassie felt less embarrassed and more furious.
One of the ruddy-cheeked men from the previous day suddenly appeared in the doorway that led back into the restaurant.
‘Russ, Luce,’ he called out. ‘Can I borrow you both?’
‘In a sec!’ Lucy replied. ‘Going to have to love you and leave you. Cass, we’ll catch up when we get back from our honeymoon.’
Cassie nodded, even as she wanted to beg Lucy not to abandon her so she’d be stuck with Marc with a c. ‘Where are you going again?’
‘A little village in Sussex where my grandparents used to live, right on the coast …’
‘Sorry, guys, but Aunt Hester doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,’ bellowed the ruddy-cheeked man.
Russell and Lucy shared a conspiratorial look, like they were in it together now. Officially a team. ‘We haven’t had a minute to call our own all weekend,’ Russell said sorrowfully, giving Cassie’s shoulders a final squeeze before he and Lucy hurried off.
With her human shield now gone, Cassie was left alone with Marc, who gave her another of those head-to-toe inspections, his expression faintly incredulous.
‘You looked different last night,’ he said at last.
‘Because it was a wedding,’ Cassie pointed out defensively. ‘I was dressed up.’
‘You looked older. A lot older.’ He sounded quite annoyed about it. ‘How old are you anyway?’
Cassie paused. She was tempted to knock a few years off, just to pay him back for last night’s vanishing act and the serious attitude he was giving her this morning. People were always commenting on how young she looked without make-up … but he was a friend of Russell’s and she didn’t want to make things even more hideous than they already were.
‘I’m twenty-one,’ Cassie said and he took a step back.
‘Fucking hell!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘Well, how old are you?’ Cassie asked pointedly, because Russell was twenty-eight, so he was likely to be a similar age. A seven-year difference between them, give or take, so she didn’t know why he was acting like he was a cradle-snatcher and she was jailbait.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Clearly not old enough to know better.’
He’d been so different the previous night. But of course he had been, because he’d wanted something from her, and now he’d got it, he didn’t want to know her.
It was the kind of thing that happened to Alison, Cassie’s mum, frequently. Because she had the worst taste in men. She’d just got married and Ted seemed like a nice enough bloke but time would tell. Anyway, there was no way that Cassie was going to do what Alison always did and just accept being treated like shit because she didn’t think she deserved anything better.
Cassie drew herself up like there was a thread tugging through her spine, though Marc was still a lot taller than her, still looking down at her. She set her features so she knew she was stony-faced and flint-eyed.
‘You are rude,’ she told him, not like that was a newsflash. ‘What you did last night …’
‘Which part of last night?’ he drawled and Cassie was assailed by a sizzle reel of all the highlights. Looking up at him while his dick hit the back of her throat. Her hands clutching at the bedspread to get some purchase as he railed her from behind. Him telling her exactly what to do as she slowly lowered herself onto his cock …
She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the amused look on his face like he was enjoying this almost as much as the main event.
Again, she was not her mother’s daughter. She had a lot more backbone.
Cassie opened her eyes. ‘Look, Martin …’
That wiped the supercilious smile off his face. ‘It’s Marc,’ he bit out.
‘Whatever,’ she said airily. ‘Running away was a dick move. We both know it. You’re just pissed off because someone’s calling you out on it.’
‘It is what it is,’ he said, the five fallback words of a man who had no way in hell of winning an argument. ‘The thing is, you were sitting on a back table so you’re obviously not a close friend of the bride or groom and I expect that friendship will peter out soon enough.’ He shot another withering glance at Cassie. ‘And I live in San Francisco, so I doubt we’ll ever have to see each other again.’
‘Good,’ Cassie snapped, holding her face very still again because his implication, that she was some guttersnipe who’d inveigled her way into Lucy and Russell’s affections and would quickly be flung back into the gutter where she belonged, had stung. Also, in her heart of hearts, Cassie knew it would probably turn out to be true.
‘Fine,’ he snapped back.
There was no way that she was going to let him have the last word. Cassie folded her arms and treated him to a disparaging look of her own.
‘Well, go on then, fuck off back to San Francisco.’