Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
T illy stopped dead in her tracks as she walked into Cass’s suite behind Marjo with Tommy and Raphael at their heels.
Her stomach clenched with disappointment. She had hoped to see Cass so she could relay her encounter with Ambrus, but he wasn’t there.
And worse, the place was not empty.
Zara sat at the galley table. She wore another glamorous silky pants outfit. A picture of elegance, she sipped champagne in front of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city, the lights twinkling on as dusk descended.
A stranger sat across from her on one of the tall stools. The man had spiky blue hair and a wiry build. His skinny jeans were tight and his silver-colored cashmere sweater tighter. The clothing on both Zara and her companion had to have cost a fortune.
“What’s going on?” Tilly eyed Marjo with weariness. “Why is Zara here?”
Her neck stiffened into knots again and she peered at her bodyguards. Raphael nodded at her with a reassuring expression.
Zara raised her crystal glass at her, making her bubbly drink shimmer against the pink and red hues of the evening sky behind her. “I’m just here to help, fille .”
“When Cass said you’d be at the Vlahos gala with him tonight,” Marjo said, “Zara offered to help get you ready.”
Gala? Wait, what?
“Meet Marcel, my stylist.” Zara’s voice echoed again, just a little too shrill.
“Here to help, mon chou .” He tilted his own champagne flute and gave Tilly a friendly smile.
“Didn’t Cass tell you about the gala?” Marjo had caught her shocked expression.
Tilly frowned. “No, he didn’t say anything.”
She whipped out her phone to check her texts. All she saw was a smiley emoji with a heart in response to her sonogram image but nothing else.
“The event is run by his sister-in-law. He couldn’t miss that,” Marjo mentioned. “He definitely wants you by his side.”
“I heard about Cass being your baby daddy,” Zara butted in with a smirk twisting her pretty features. “Congrats… I guess.”
“It’s all over the media, isn’t it?” Deflated, Tilly slid her hands into the pockets of her hoody. She was getting deeper and deeper into Cass’s life and entourage but without him actually there.
“Uh-huh. That’s some news.” Zara’s eyes were like daggers while her smile remained dazzling. There was a lethal side to her that was hard to miss. “Cass never mentioned it to me.”
“He didn’t know.”
“Oh, really. You did play your game well. You lied to me last night, didn’t you?” Zara snarked, her smile still not reaching her full expression. The woman was just too much, calling Tilly a liar. “I heard you’re looking at houses now.”
“And I think we found one, right Mathilda?” Marjo said, opening the fridge to take out a bottle of seltzer.
“Yes, maybe.” She thought of the last one at walking distance from Park Westmont, a historic mansion set back from the street and surrounded by a stone fence and imposing trees. But the memory of the lovely setting was obscured by her encounter with the demon.
Cass’s father, blast. How did he subdue Raphael so quickly? She thought vampires were immune to hypnosis.
“How lucky for you.” Zara kept smiling through her perfectly veneered teeth. “All set up in your own house raising Cass’s baby. How nice.”
“I guess.” Tilly shook herself to focus on the pair occupying the suite and leaned back to consider Zara fully. For a moment, the model looked so perfect, she appeared not quite human. Could she be a witch? She was so beautiful that it could even be a glamour spell. No, that was crazy.
She stared back at Raphael and Tommy for reassurance, both sitting in club chairs in the living room area by the fireplace and trying to make themselves unobtrusive. Her encounter with Ambrus had rattled her and she felt shaky.
Zara couldn’t possibly be a real threat. Aside from desperately wanting Cass, she looked too absorbed in herself to be dangerous.
Still, Tilly wasn’t ready to let her guard down.
“What’s all this?” She nodded at the garment rack with distrust.
“Oh, it’s for you. For the gala,” Marjo interjected, shooting Tilly an excited look as she placed a couple of lowball glasses on the table by the seltzer bottle before heading to the washroom. “Zara suggested Marcel could help.”
At his name, the trendy-looking, small man stood from the chrome kitchen stool with a hand extended toward her. “Mathilda, right?”
“Yes, you can call me Tilly.” She shook his hand, the sociable manner of the stylist making her feel more at ease.
“Such a cute name.” He shot her a wide, friendly grin. “We’ll make you dazzling for the event. Don’t you worry, mon chou .”
“You can work miracles, Marcel,” Zara said. “I knew she’d be in good hands with you.”
“You already look lovely,” he told Tilly warmly. “And congrats on your little one, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“The pregnancy makes you look radiant,” he gushed further.
“Certainly,” Zara said. “I could never carry so much weight on my small frame.”
“Yes, it’s heavy.” She tugged at her hoody, momentarily distracted from her fears by the unsettling fact that in a few hours she would be attending a gala filled with glamorous people.
“All eyes will be on you tonight after I’m done with you,” Marcel insisted. “I promise.”
“And I get to stay here to watch the whole transformation happen.” Zara clapped her hands. “Isn’t it fantastic?”
Tilly looked down at her sneakers and yoga pants before catching a glimpse of Zara’s delicate heels under the cuffs of her black silk trousers. A bout of queasiness hit her as she suddenly felt way out of her element. There was nothing that Marcel could do that would make her match the allure of the attractive model.
“I need to take care of something for Karim,” Marjo abruptly returned from the bathroom with hastened steps. “You’ll be fine here with Zara and Marcel, right? Tommy and Raphael will stay right here with you. Cass insisted.”
Tilly nodded, feeling a childish need to have Cass’s efficient assistant remain here with her, but pushing it down to give Marjo a reassuring expression as she plopped herself on the remaining stool by the galley kitchen table.
She was a grown woman, she could handle a makeover, couldn’t she? Even if she felt completely unmatched by the glamorous Zara and the stylish Marcel.
“Where is Cass?” She really needed to tell him about Ambrus.
“Not sure exactly.” Marjo gave her a mixed look. “Some issue with the band. I’ll let you know when I learn more.”
“Come on, let’s have you get ready, ma chouette ,” Marcel coaxed with enthusiasm. “You go get yourself a shower and I’ll set up shop here.”
“Sure.” She reluctantly picked herself up from the stool.
“And then we’ll decide on your dress.” He gave her a warm, encouraging smile as he stepped happily toward his bulky make-up bag.
“Right.” She nodded slowly. The stylist had obviously noticed her lack of excitement and was trying his best. Could he really find something suitable for an elegant gala that would fit her thick, round body?
Moments later, Tilly stepped out of the shower in the suite’s white robe, her hair in a towel, to see that Marcel had transformed the place into a beauty salon. The galley table was filled with tools, cosmetics, and hair products while boxes of lingerie were open on the couches and shimming dresses had been taken out of their garment bags.
Pop music filled the air. Zara was leaning back against the kitchen counter, still with a champagne flute in one hand, and this time with her vape pen in the other. She was tapping her small foot to the beat of the song that had been all the rage a few months ago.
Not Tilly’s music style—too mainstream—but relatively well-mixed. She remembered discussing the studio that had produced it with her boss Ryan. They’d both agreed that the commercial viability of the single was short, and that Hyannis Sound was more about crafting music that could stand the test of time.
She caught Raphael’s amused gaze.
“Tommy’s guarding outside,” he said, gesturing to the finery around him. “Too much for him. Want me to give you more privacy and go out, too?”
“Oh no, please stay,” she pleaded with the handsome vampire with the chiseled cheekbones and soulful eyes. With his tall and strapping form, his presence made her feel protected.
“Come here, ma belle .” Marcel had put out a chair on the tile floor for her. “Let’s make that gorgeous hair shine.”
“Sure.” She sat down and waved her hand around to disperse Zara’s sweet smoke.
“Oh, sorry, girl.” She clicked the pen off and set it on the table. “I forgot all about the baby. Must be such a drag having your body taken over like this.”
Marcel was combing her wet hair as she stared at Zara with a pinched, annoyed expression. What exactly was the model’s relationship with Cass? If she wasn’t his girlfriend, then why was she hanging out here all the time?
“It’s all worth it.” She raised her chin high as she slid her hands over her belly with warmth. And it was. This child was all the things to her. Her long-desired family.
“Losing your figure and everything,” Zara continued. “I’d be sure to have a ring on it before even considering getting pregnant.”
Tilly heard the snips of scissors against her head and shuddered, suddenly worried that she’d agreed to let a stranger near her hair. “Don’t take off the length.”
“Of course not. You have fantastic hair,” he said. “I’m just shaping it a little. Don’t you worry, mon chou .”
Resigned to put her trust in Marcel, she turned to Zara again. “The pregnancy wasn’t planned.”
“Yeah, I know that.” The model wrinkled her nose. “There’s no way Cass wanted a baby.”
“I heard he proposed to you on the tour bus,” Marcel said with avid curiosity. “How romantic!”
“Wait what?” Tilly frowned and suddenly remembered Cass’s words in front of everyone last night. Someone must have posted their conversation. And naturally, it had reached the media by now.
Was this to be her and her child’s life from now on? Every detail online and in tabloids because she was Cass’s child’s mother. She hadn’t signed up for this.
“He was just joking, surely,” Zara commented.
Tilly shrugged, attempting to be casual. “Yeah, Something like that.”
“But you do intend to stay here, in Montreal?” Zara had obviously organized this makeover to get as many details as she could from her.
“Not sure. My home is in Cape Cod.”
“So, this house you found with Marjo,” Zara needed to know, “it’s not permanent?”
“I don’t know yet.” She hesitated to say much, feeling uneasy at giving so much information to a stranger. “I don’t think so.”
And she truly hadn’t given the whole thing any thought, just going along with whatever Cass had in mind. All she wanted was being protected.
The encounter with Ambrus the Exiled had solidified the danger her state had put her in. He’d hypnotized two guards just like that, even the formidable Raphael. He could have done anything to her.
Had she been able to use the banshee scream, could she have escaped?
Or would Ambrus hypnotize her just as he did her bodyguards? She had found herself unable to flee him.
She had to be more careful. She couldn’t be walking around in public like she’d done earlier.
She still wasn’t sure of Zara, but with Raphael right here in the room, if the model were indeed a witch after Tilly, he could likely take her down. And Marcel didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.
Still, it annoyed her that Cass had left her and was taking so long to get back to her. He hadn’t even bothered to tell her about this gala she had to attend.
Zara now seemed content with her answers and had dropped the subject of Cass and Tilly’s relationship. She stepped toward her, her heels clicking on the tile floor, to watch Marcel work on her hair. He was done with the scissors and was moving her locks, trying different styles.
“Interesting statement you made here with that big white strand.” Zara wouldn’t stop scrutinizing her. “A bit too edgy for me, but I can see it, a female in the music business, you want to look a little strange.”
The woman was doing everything to shake Tilly’s confidence.
“I like it,” Marcel said. “It gives you a signature style. A little goth vibe, we might go with that.”
“Goth?” Tilly might prefer black clothes, but goth was far from it. Comfort and practicality were always her first priorities when she got dressed in the morning.
“All that black hair, I could never pull this off. Too dark.” Zara had come back to her line of vision and was puffing her own blond tresses. “I’m all about light.”
“Champagne and glitter, that’s you, ma chère .” Marcel paused. “But for you, Tilly, I’m still not sure. What did you have in mind for the dress? Any color or style you prefer? Marjo gave me some approximate measurements and I brought many maternity choices that would fit you.”
“I have no clue.” She was completely out of her depth.
She had worn band T-shirts and leggings pretty much her whole life. She had gone to a couple of music award galas in New York and LA, having received a few. But the spotlight had always been on her artists. Her serviceable ensemble of dress pants and a cute top had been enough for that crowd.
Why had Cass insisted she come to this one event? She dreaded that the only reason for her presence could be purely for publicity. And here again, the thought that she could turn into Hervé’s wife hit her.
There was nothing wrong with the woman’s life per se, but it just wasn’t for Tilly. She had worked so hard, and she loved her job. She’d feel aimless without it, even with a new baby to focus on.
And Hervé didn’t get as much attention. The burden of promoting the band always fell on Cass.
She had to make it clear to Cass that her plans were to return to Hyannis as soon as the baby was old enough to no longer be at risk. She had a career and had no intention of losing herself in the shadow of his stardom.
“It’s a shame about that poor girl last night, isn’t it?” Marcel said before turning on the hair dryer. “I wonder how Cass is going to spin this.”
“Girl? What happened?” Tilly asked but the noise was too loud for Marcel to hear.
She frowned suddenly confused. Had something happened to Cass that she didn’t know about? She yearned to turn off the hair tool to ask for more details, but Marcel was focused on getting her heavy mane dry. Zara was back in her stool at the table and absorbed by her phone, appearing bored and not paying attention.
That was when the truth of her situation hit Tilly.
She and Cass had known each other for a few days only. That was nothing compared to the time they’d been apart. A whole lot had happened in those eight months. She’d been busy preparing for the baby, had launched at least two new artists, and worked on the track of Jay Carpenter’s latest single.
Meanwhile, he’d been in hiding before reappearing to start the Resurgence Tour three weeks ago on the Canadian east coast in Halifax. And he possibly had found himself a new girlfriend here in Montreal.
The divide between them was huge. She had no idea what he had done for a big part of today. How could they co-parent like this? With her finding his whereabouts from gossip and the media.
Were they even a couple? Sure, they would share a child, but would they rekindle their brief affair? Yes, he made her knees weak when he was around her, but did she actually want a long-term relationship with him?
Her idea of running to him suddenly felt dumb. Despite what Godmother April had suggested, she shouldn’t have come to Montreal. Instead, she should have left Cass in the dark about the baby and flown to the Pacific Northwest to be with the aunties. They could protect her. Her cousin Sloane was married to a powerful warlock who led a group of well-connected supernatural hunters. Surely, they would be savvy enough to protect her.
All Cass had done so far was fling money at the problem. Sending her off to find a house with Marjo, flank her with bodyguards, and leaving her with the woman he courted to make her acceptable to his image.
She sighed as Marcel turned off the hair dryer.
Zara looked up from her phone. “Looks like Noémie’s fine. She’s at Montreal General. Cass is there with her. There’s a whole spread on the Journal de Montréal webpage.”
“What happened?” Tilly frowned. Cass was at the hospital? She couldn’t help but worry while Marcel started to apply a dollop of foundation to her forehead.
“You don’t know?” Zara asked with a small, satisfied smile.
“Nuh-uh.”
Zara seemed pleased to see Tilly in the dark. “This girl Noémie was found unconscious in Osh’s room earlier today. Fentanyl, Karim thinks. They revived her with Narcan and wheeled her to the ER.”
“This will do.” Marcel chirped, done with her face. “A little blush, and lipstick. We’ll skip the eyelids. A coat of mascara should be enough. A future mama, your skin glows, you don’t need much.”
Tilly’s thoughts were now far removed from her appearance and razored in on what had made Cass rush away from the baby store. Fentanyl, damn. Her throat suddenly closed in with irrational fear. Was that the kind of environment she wanted her baby to be raised in?
“Noémie?” She remembered the young woman giggling and smoking weed with the bassist in the back of the tour bus. “Isn’t that Osh’s girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” Zara snorted. “More of a groupie.”
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Marcel joined in. “The band is always full of girls following them. Not all too bright if you ask me.”
“That poor kid.” Tilly’s heart broke. She’d heard too many stories like that. Noémie looked barely of age.
“She’s fine.” Zara scrolled through her phone. “Cass is there, looking like the hero he is. No mention of Osh or a party with the band. They spun it like it was a private affair after the show.”
“How do you know all this?” Tilly was suddenly curious. “If it’s not in the paper?”
“Oh. I was here earlier. Cass told me.”
Hearing this felt like a sucker punch to the gut. He had told Zara but hadn’t bothered to text her back about this.
Again, she realized that they were really not ready to be an item. They would never be if Cass didn’t have the time to tell her what he was dealing with. A young woman had nearly died. He could have texted her a brief message to explain his absence.
“Oh my god, you look gorgeous!” Marcel positively beamed.
“Not bad.” Zara smirked, trying to be casual, but the twinge of envy at the corner of her eyes was unmistakable.
“Let’s get you into that dress.” Marcel strolled to the clothing rack. “I vote for the mulberry one. Marjo said Cass will be wearing his signature black jacket over a black shirt, so the darker red will be a good match.”
“Are you sure, Marcel?” Zara said in a syrupy voice. “When I accompanied him at the Juno award, I was in all gold. Angel and demon, so to speak.”
“No, no, trust me.” Marcel aside-eyed Zara as he unzipped one of the garment bags. “Tilly has a whole different vibe. She’s just like him. She’s got to project that same energy. I love the look. The perfect couple from the underworld, expecting their first love child.”
“Is that what the media says?” Tilly was puzzled by the idea.
“You bet. I mean you’re both in the music business, it’s ideal. They’ll be a bunch of snobs at the event tonight. It’s for charity. They’ll want some rock-star glamour from you two. See what you look like. And with your condition, it’s all very sweet. They’ll go nuts over you after I’m completely done here.”
“Karim is very good at talking to the press,” Zara said, her look still sullen. “As soon as the news of your pregnancy was out, he got right into spinning it. No one would believe you’re not really together.”
“I guess we’re not,” Tilly mumbled.
“Here you go.” Marcel presented her with the dress, the dark wine color shimmering under his fingers, with gorgeous drapes of silky fabric and chiffon. “Nothing goth about this, more like a fairy queen.”
He gave her a broad, admiring smile. “Put it on. Bodysuit is right here in that box. I made sure to find something that will give you enough support, with your pregnancy.”
She stood and draped the garments over her arm, reveling in the soft feeling of the cloth, before she stepped into the bedroom to change.
The lingerie was like gossamer. Fragile but sturdy enough to support her breasts now so big and achy from the pregnancy. The silk against her skin was like a caress from a lover. And she was transported back to Hyannis by the beach, when it was Cass trailing his lips on her skin, capturing her waist with a steady grip, sliding his hands along her back, dropping his mouth on her breast, nipping gently at her taut nipple…
She shuddered. She couldn’t go there. He had moved on with his life, and soon she would, too.
She forced herself to think of her life ahead with a baby. A little girl, just like her. She’d take her to the godmothers, introduce her to her long-lost cousin Sloane and her child. Little Elsa would be thrilled to meet the baby.
Or maybe her child would be a son. The image of a mini-Cass suddenly hit her, and sadness flushed through her heart at the idea of being reminded of him every day. They would have to find a way to co-parent and have him in their child’s life. She shook herself to ignore the complications ahead and concentrated on the beautiful dress.
She slid it on and returned to the main area of the suite so that Marcel could assist her.
“Oh yes, it’s perfect.” He gushed, palms together with admiration. “I did my best with your measurement, and I’m thrilled to see I got it just right. This empire style is easier to fit.”
“Right,” Zara said, unable to hide the murderous look in her eyes.
Tilly bit her lip with apprehension at the hatred radiating from the gorgeous model. She wrapped her belly with both hands over the dark chiffon and bejeweled bodice at her chest, suddenly fearful for her life.
Zara couldn’t be after her child, could she? Waiting for her move while Tilly was alone?
She stared at the delicate bone structure of the woman, who had now returned to scroll on her phone, in a dismissive attempt to ignore Tilly’s new look.
“Oh wow, Tilly!” Raphael, who seemed to have perceived the tension in the room, stood to his full height and strode down to the galley kitchen. He placed himself in a way to shield Zara from her sight. “I swear Cass won’t be able to tear his eyes from you.”
“Slip into these.” Marcel produced a pair of jeweled ballet flats. “They will be much more comfortable than heels for you.”
Tilly slipped into the burgundy leather that felt as snug as slippers but looked elegant peeking from under the floor-length dress.
“You look just…perfect.” Marcel turned her toward the full-length mirror on the wall.
Oh blast. She stared at herself with shock. She truly did look like a fairy princess. With the long fold of dark red chiffon gracefully falling over her oversized belly, her updo piled high above her head and held with crystal pins shaped like tiny stars, the white streak coming down attractively along her cheekbone.
She had never felt so pretty.
Marjo stepped into the room, the woman clad in a loden green business pantsuit. “The limo is downstairs, all ready for you.” She paused in the middle of the room. “Oh my, Mathilda, you look like royalty.”
Tilly grinned broadly at her, suddenly buoyed with confidence that she could indeed do this. Step out in the limelight with her child’s father.
“Thank you for the makeover.” Filled with gratefulness, she grabbed the stylist by both his hands. “Marcel. Really.”
“Well, I better get changed.” Zara slid down from her stool. “I’m the main presenter tonight. Marcel, you still have that tiara you promised me, right?”
Tilly looked in the mirror again, but this time caught Zara’s gaze on her and saw only pure, raw hatred. She shuddered with anxiety. If someone were capable of murdering a pregnant woman, right now it would be Zara.
Tilly tightened her grip on the small, beaded clutch that Marcel had handed her and slowly let out the breath she’d been holding tight, taking control of her fear.
“Let’s go,” she told Marjo, keeping her chin high and moving away from the mirror and, more importantly, Zara.
She couldn’t wait to get away from her and find Cass.