CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
CASSIE
Seven years ago.
A scream pierces through the air erupting from my lips. My eyes are wide and glued to the screen in front of me. I hear the sound of footsteps rushing towards me and a couple seconds later my dad appears in the doorway of the living room.
“ Cassandra! Is someone dead?!” he questions, eyes scanning the room like he’s expecting danger to leap out from a corner.
I jump to my feet and hurriedly drag him towards the laptop sitting on the couch.
“ Daddy, you’re never going to believe this,” I say excitedly, practically bouncing on the sole of my feet. “I got in! I got into freaking Harvard!”
He immediately releases a breath, his eyes growing softer.
“ Of course you got in, sweetheart. I never doubted you for a second,” he states.
He gives me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before settling down on the couch. I settle down beside him, letting him wrap his arms around me as we both stare at the acceptance letter in front of us.
“ So you’re really going to Harvard, huh?” my dad asks after a minute.
“ Yeah obviously,” I say laughing.
“ But you do still remember the NYU acceptance email you got earlier this week, right?” he asks lightly.
I snort, “Dad, there’s no way I’m going to NYU. You can kill that dream.”
“ I just wish you wouldn’t go so far away, sweetie,” he says.
“ Boston isn’t that far away. I’ll be fine. You already agreed to let me go, dad. You can’t take that back.”
He adjusts the glasses perched against his nose, his eyes warm, “And I’m not trying to. I’m just worried. My little girl’s never lived away from me before.”
“ Kids grow up and then they find their own path in life. They go to college, meet cute boys and have lots of fun.”
His eyes narrow, “They also focus on their education. And you’re not allowed to date, Cassandra.”
“ Right. I would never,” I say dryly. “But the point is I’m going to be fine. You know I will be.”
“ I know. You’re all grown up, sweetheart. Strong, resilient.”
“ I’m a Solis. And I take after my daddy. I could never be anything but strong.”
He nods in agreement before looking away. His eyes get a sort of faraway look, like he’s thinking of something grim. I laugh.
“ Dad, if you’re this worried about me going to college, how are you going to act when you have to give me away on my wedding day?”
His hand tightens around me at that, “Who says I’m going to give you away? No man will ever be good enough for my princess.”
I smile. “Someone will have to be good enough for me eventually.”
“ Not going to happen, Cassie. I’ll protect you. Always,” he states, his eyes fierce.
My father has always made me feel safe and protected. I know as long as I have him. I’ll be okay. Always.
***
Present Day
Death is a strange concept. It’s incredible how a person can be here one minute and then gone the next. And then you have to contend with the fact that you’ll never get to see them again, talk to them, feel them.
I wish I could say that this all feels strange. But I’m no stranger to death. I’ve already had to bury one parent. And now I have to bury the other one. Which is, honestly, beyond cruel.
I wish I could say that I’m angry, frustrated, or sad. I felt grief in the hours after I learned about my father’s death. And right now, I feel nothing.
The church is packed. People are crammed into pews ad aisles, all of them cloaked in black, the air thick with the scent of lilies and polished wood. I’m seated at the front, my uncle on one side, my best friends on the other. There’s a crumpled tissue in my hand, but my eyes are dry.
I just feel numb.
The priest’s voice drifts over me, low and steady, talking about life and death and heaven and peace. I hear the words, but they don’t stick. They slide past me, meaningless and heavy.
I never got to say goodbye to my father.
That’s what hurts the most. The thought hits like a punch to the gut, sharp and mean.
I squeeze the tissue tighter until it shreds in my fist. He’s right in front of me, his body lying in a coffin.
I always thought it was morbid when people would do an open casket.
Seeing a loved one lying there lifeless, feels like adding salt to a gaping wound.
My father’s coffin is closed. I refuse to remember him as anything else other than the vibrant man who told me he loved me and promised to always protect me.
His picture’s on an easel, his brown eyes piercing and the proud look on his face frozen in time.
It’s one of my favorite pictures of him.
He’s not smiling in it but there’s a subtle element of happiness in the picture as well.
He took it after his company really took off, became the million dollar corporation it is today.
A soft rustle breaks the stillness in the church as the doors creak open behind us.
My stomach twists.
There’s a shift in the air. Palpable. Heavy.
Someone walks in like he owns the building. No. Like he owns everything inside it.
Tall. Dark suit. Cold, cutting eyes that sweep the room with disinterest. That is… until they land on me and stay there.
The moment our eyes meet, something deep in my bones clenches. My heart stutters. Not fear exactly, but not comfort either.
There’s something about him I can’t place. A flicker of familiarity that makes no sense.
I’m certain I’d remember someone like him. That face. That presence. That devastating kind of handsome you don’t forget—you can’t forget.
And yet… my body reacts like it already knows him.
He doesn’t walk in alone. Two men follow him, bodyguards, if their stiff posture and the way they scan the room mean anything. The man in front walks into the room like he doesn’t care who’s staring. Like he’s used to being watched. Feared.
A jolt runs through me, sharp and confusing. He gives me a look that feels both heavy and meaningless at the same time. a look I have no way of deciphering.
That I have no interest in deciphering.
I look away first, forcing myself to face forward again.
“Who is that?” Chloe whispers beside me, her voice soft.
I shrug, “I have no idea. Maybe he did business with dad.”
My skin feels heated and a part of me is curious.
But I don’t have time for strange men with cold eyes.
It doesn’t escape my notice that my uncle sat up straighter with the man’s entrance.
When I glance at him he’s tenser but he reassures me with a small smile when he notices the question in my eyes.
The priest calls for a moment of silence and I bow my head and grip my hands together in my lap so tightly my nails dig into my palms.
I still don’t cry. The service moves forward. A blur of hymns and readings and soft, broken sobs from somewhere behind me. I stand when I’m supposed to stand. I sit when I’m supposed to sit. Outside the sunlight is brutal, jarring.
The procession to the cemetery feels slow and disjointed.
At the graveside, I stand motionless as they lower the coffin into the earth.
The priest says something again but it’s all white noise.
I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. The first handful of dirt hits the coffin with a sound that cuts through me, low and final.
My knees wobble. My uncle’s hand tightens around my arm, grounding me, keeping me upright when all I want do is fold into myself and disappear. I don’t cry. Not here. Not yet.
People start coming up, murmuring things I don’t hear. Faces blur. Hands touch my shoulder, squeeze my arm, but none of it feels real. and through it all I can feel him watching me. The man from the church. It’s almost like he’s waiting for something. And it’s making me feel uneasy.
The cemetery slowly empties but he stays. He’s lurking, leaning casually against a tree a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest like he has every right to be here.
My skin crawls. Not from fear. From something else, something more dangerous.
“Uncle,” I murmur. “Do you know who that is?”
He follows my gaze, his jaw tightening when he sees who I’m looking at.
“Someone dangerous,” he says, low enough that only I can hear.
Great. That’s comforting. I straighten, trying to shove down the unease rising inside me. Maybe if I ask the security detail to escort him off the property, he’ll get the hint?
“Want me to tell him to fuck off?” Maxine questions from beside me.
I shake my head, “I don’t want you going anywhere near him.”
I’m just about to call one of the guards over when I feel it. His gaze, searing into me like a brand. When I look at him, he’s staring straight at me, those icy blue eyes locked onto mine. A low, dangerous smirk curves his mouth. My heart stutters.
Before I can move, he pushes off the tree and starts walking towards me. Unhurried. A part of me wants to run. A part of me knows I can’t. It’s an odd mix of feelings this strange man arises in me. Every instinct screams at me to stop back, but my feet stay rooted to the spot.
He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can see the faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow. Close enough to smell the leather and spice clinging to him.
“Hello, Cassandra,” he says, his voice low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet.
I blink, “Do I know you?”
His smirk deepens. “No, but you’re about to.”
I glance at my uncle for backup but he’s silent, glaring at the man in front of us, his lips thinned. He’s obviously uncomfortable by his presence.
“I think you’re at the wrong funeral,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “If you could leave now, that would be great.”
“I’m exactly where I need to be, Cassandra,” he replies vaguely.
“Stop saying my name like you know me or we’re friends,” I snap.
He tilts his head to the side, studying me like he’s memorizing the shade of my anger. My uncle chooses that moment to step forward.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Luciano,” he states, raising a hand like it’s a barrier between himself and the man in front of me. “You could have waited until after the funeral.”