Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
C ass, you have to let me in. Open the gate, please.
Cass grunted as he read Marjo’s text glaring at him from the screen of his locked cellphone.
He slammed the phone on the bedspread and glanced to his side at Tilly, still sleeping beside him. A ray of morning light had made its way through the heavy drapes to hit her just right, where a wayward strand of the purest white lay on her defined cheekbone. His heart melted to see her so at peace in her sleep.
Couldn’t they be left alone, just for one day?
He’d awakened rock-solid, with her body pressed against his, and had almost woken her, thinking they were still in Hyannis.
He recalled the first time he had laid his eyes on her as he’d walked into her studio room with her boss, Ryan Scott. With the black hood of her sweatshirt over her head, her huge white headphones underneath, her body slightly bopping to the beat, she’d been so intensely focused on her screen that she hadn’t noticed them walking in. She had jumped when Ryan had tapped her on the shoulder, and she’d turned a puzzled gaze to Cass. Looking into the serious indigo-blue eyes, he swore his heart had been taken that very day.
All worries about collaborating with this stranger had been replaced with a deep desire to know her more. That determined face showed a depth that he had wanted to know more.
Their time working together had been precious. She was as passionate about getting the right sound as he was. And when he’d touched her shoulder a little too long during a session mid-week, she hadn’t retreated but instead had smiled at him in a way that told him she would welcome more.
And he had given her more.
They had just opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate finishing the recording of his album, toasting to their success alone in the small room, when he’d asked her if he could kiss her.
The rest was history, and now she was in his brother’s home about to birth his child.
He slowly rolled out of bed, careful not to wake her and padded to the bathroom for an extra cold shower.
As the frigid water dulled his senses, he pushed away lustful thoughts of her skin.
He had touched her last night. Had felt her taut nipple under his palm. He had turned so hard for her. Had wanted her. Bad.
But she had cried. And she was scared. Not just of the people after her, but with the idea that he could leave her behind. As if. He was with her all the way.
He exited the shower, toweled himself, and grumbled as he grabbed his phone from the marble counter to send a text.
We need to be left alone for a couple of days, Marj .
His assistant was efficient, sure. But sometimes it was a bit too much to handle.
Check the online tabloids , she replied back.
Now what? He opened a browser onto the latest gossip webpage and froze. Oh shit .
The lovers’ secret spot , the headline read. With a picture, for the world to see, of he and Tilly on Chateau Briac’s back deck overlooking the red and gold valley below. Taken just before they’d left for Ren’s place at the bottom of the mountain.
Dammit. This was a total invasion of their privacy. His jaw tightened with primal resentment. She’s mine, not yours.
He’d shared most things with the media before. But now, it was all different.
Another text from Marjo appeared .
There’s a news van on the road behind me . Someone’s out in the woods at the edge of your gate. With a telephoto lens.
He looked outside the bathroom window down to the path leading to the estate. Baptême . Marjo was right. There were cars on the dirt road. And people behind the gate. About thirty or forty of them, dressed for the fall weather in bright parkas, scarves, and hats.
He glanced back at the tub and noticed Tilly’s pair of pink fuzzy slippers by the side of the bath.
A ping of sorrow hit him straight at the core to remember last night.
He had never seen her cry before.
Not when she’d said goodbye to him in Hyannis, not when she’d announced she was pregnant with his child, and not even after the failed kidnapping.
His heart swelled. He had wanted to take it all away from her, the worry, the burden. So she could find joy in having their baby.
He stared at the extreme fans upon their doorstep again. Extreme because these people were more after gossip and drama than his followers who were in it for the music. These people here wanted dirt.
Maybe Tilly was right. Their baby shouldn’t have to live like this.
And for the first time, he began to question the weight of his celebrity. It had all started with him just wanting to create and play music. He had wanted people to enjoy it.
And once the numbers of his supporters had grown to an amount impossible to count, he had accepted the consequences of having no private life. But now, he was dragging someone else into it. Soon to be two.
That was utterly unfair to both Tilly and his child.
He strode back into the bedroom and snatched his pants from the floor.
“Cass?”
Tilly had woken up, her voice heavy from sleep. The melodious tone brought all sorts of desires in him again.
He wanted to go back to last night, with her head against his shoulder and him stroking her hair until they both fell asleep.
He had hoped for her to take a long refreshing shower while he went downstairs to rummage for one of Mrs. Mercier’s breakfast pastries the housekeeper had left on the counter for them when she had readied the house earlier. Make some coffee and have a leisurely morning meal in the kitchen with the fall sun pouring in. Or maybe up in his brother’s library, with the heavy leather chairs and the scent of old books. Just the two of them. Talk about their dreams for the newborn.
“Go back to bed, sweetie ,” he suggested. “I need to go let Marjo in.”
“Marjo? She’s here?” Tilly propped herself up on one elbow with a blank look. Her dark hair was falling in disarray over the white nightgown. “Why? I thought this would just be the two of us here, with maybe Emme.”
“I know, chérie . I’m so sorry.” His neck muscles tensed with frustration as he slid on his jeans. “My fans are here.”
“Here?” She was sitting straight, looking at him with a deep crease between her brows.
“At the estate’s gate.”
“What about your mother’s wards?” Alarm has risen in her tone. She was fully awake now.
“Oh, Tilly.” He felt sad to see her get up. “You should stay in bed a little longer. Take it easy.”
“I thought you said the chateau was magically warded,” she repeated.
“It is. Marjo is at the gate. It’s locked. No one can cross it unless I wish it so. My mother’s ward is like a mental barrier for them. They just don’t think of trying to go farther. But they can take pictures.”
“Gross.” She shuddered as she padded barefoot on the rug to fetch her dressing gown from a chair by the armoire.
“Yeah.” He raked his hair with a sigh. “I have to admit you were right. I don’t have a lot of privacy. And now after knowing we’re having a child together, they want more.”
“Right,” she griped as she put on her robe. With a tight, annoyed motion, she tied the belt above her belly. “It’s what I was afraid of.”
“Look, I’ll let Marjo in and ask the fans to back off. Sometimes they can be convinced if I’m the one asking.”
“Okay.” She did not sound too thrilled.
“Marjo will come in. I’ll make some breakfast. Meet us downstairs?”
“Sure.” She turned to head toward the bathroom.
He stared after her and all he wanted was to get back into that bed with her. Hold her, talk about the future. And about Ambrus. She had seen him, his birth father. He should ask her about the elusive immortal. Not pretend it didn’t really matter to him.
He could never reveal to his brothers that he was curious about knowing more about their long-lost birth father. But he could tell her. She would understand.
He could be himself with her. No need for that carefree facade he held with everyone else.
But he had to take care of his obligations right now. He had chosen the rock star life. And now he had to protect her from his fans and the media.
With a heavy heart, he marched out of the bedroom.
I’m coming , he texted Marjo as he descended the wide stairs to the first floor. A few minutes later, he was at the gate of Chateau Briac, some hundred feet from the estate on the dirt road.
The morning air was brittle. The sun—a pale, yellow globe in the fall season’s shortening days—was still low in the sky and peeking behind the fir trees of the Domaine Lassalle mountains.
“Cass!! He’s heeere!” A clamor had erupted from the crowd as soon as he’d come into his fans’ line of sight. People at the back were jumping up to catch a glimpse of their idol. A girl was propped on the shoulders of a burly man, others standing on the hood of their cars.
He smiled and waved at them all as he punched in the code to let Marjo’s little rental car in through the iron gate, muttering a few magic words under his breath to let her pass through his mother’s wards.
She slowly drove past him, her window open. “We need to talk, Cass.” Karim was in the passenger side, Raphael and Tommy in the back. She stopped the car. “You can’t just disappear like this.”
“Can we have Raphael and Tommy at the gate?” Cass gave them both a quick friendly nod. His worry was first and foremost Tilly’s safety.
Sure, they should be okay with his mother’s magical protections, but he’d feel better having the bodyguards watch the crowd.
“Of course.” Marjo scowled with obvious irritation as Karim and the two guardians emerged from the vehicle and started to push the small gathering away.
“Let me just talk to these folks first,” he told Marjo. He returned to the gate to address his fans. “Look people, we need our time to rest here.”
“How’s Tilly?” someone shouted.
“She’s fine. But you know she’s expecting our baby. She needs quiet.”
“When’s her due date?” A girl in a glossy pink sports jacket had her cellphone shoved as close to him as possible despite Raphael blocking her way with one sturdy arm out in front of her.
“Do you have a name yet? What are you having? Boy or girl?” The questions were now firing rapidly. Nothing out of the normal but it bothered him to hear them talking about his unborn child. A child he felt very protective of.
Karim pushed past him with his tablet in the crook of his arm. “Leave Cass alone, people. Give him space.”
Cass stared at his manager for a brief moment, unusually disturbed by the situation.
Was this actually his life ?
He did love the performing and songwriting and, yes, he had loved the adoration. After being told so many times that he would never make it, from his first theater performance in Québec City where the habitants had thrown rotten vegetables at his troupe, to the rejection from the first record label he’d contacted in the late nineteenth century, he couldn’t help but enjoy the childlike feeling of being vindicated. Take that, Monsieur Poisson! I’m not tone-deaf after all.
But he now had to grow from that so he could raise his child.
He couldn’t be hounded like this every time he decided to take his kid to the park.
He took a step toward them beside Karim. “Thanks man,” he told his manager, “but I got this.”
Shouts erupted at the mere sight of him getting closer and he lifted his palm to quiet them down. He stood his ground as he started to address them all.
“Look people, I’ll answer your questions for a few minutes and then I need to go take care of my girl.” He turned to Karim. “Did you bring any swag with you?”
“Always.” The man shot him a half-smile. Of course, his disciple was always prepared.
“My manager has some gifts for you,” Cass told the crowd, “ if you leave us alone.”
“We love you,” a fan in a black ball cap yelled.
“Yeah, you’re the best!” A middle-aged lady in full Cass St-Amand’s gear added from the front.
He smiled. Yes, some were after drama, but they were also harmless. And devoted. But he couldn’t ignore that someone who was after Tilly and his child could actually be hiding among them.
“Tilly is due late November,” he started to explain. “And no, we don’t know what we’re having. And we don’t have a name yet.” That last one suddenly hit him. “If it’s a boy, we may call him Antoine after my late father. Or Anthony. Toinou...”
“Toinou St-Amand,” a shout erupted.
Oh crap. His throat tightened. They would run with that one all over the media.
What would Tilly think of his fans naming the child she was carrying? Surely, she had her own ideas.
He winced. This was enough people-pleasing for now.
“That’s it, folks.” He surveyed the crowd with a stern look intended to show he meant business. “My baby mama needs me inside.”
“You go to her, Cass,” a tall, stringy, long-haired youth said. “We’ll be there for the birth.”
Let’s hope not . He jumped in the car beside Marjo and headed for the estate, while Karim threw T-shirts and silicone bracelets into the throng of his admirers.
Oh god. Why had he not noticed before that this kind of adoration was creepy? He was beginning to see Tilly’s point about raising their child in the midst of it all.
But weren’t they already deep in it?
Did he have to quit music entirely and hide them away in a villa on some remote tropical island?
He could never leave music. It was his entire soul. He’d have to find a way to shield his child from the celebrity.
Baptême.
“You’re awfully quiet, Cass. You okay?” Marjo shot him a quick, uneasy gaze before parking the car in the curved driveway in front of the chateau .
“Yes, I’m fine.” Cass shrugged off her concerns.
“It’s this birth, isn’t it? It’s rattling you.” She grabbed her phone from her lap and dropped it in her purse propped between the front seats. Her look aton him narrowed.
“Maybe,” he told her but not really believing it. He’d been shocked at first, but the arrival of his child was making him incredibly happy.
“You know,” she added before exiting the sedan. “Zara mentioned to me how you looked drained lately. You have a week after Germany. You should fly to New York. I think you need some alone time.”
He got out of the small blue sedan and paused to look at her over the hood. She’d been a great help in the last few months. She always appeared to know what was best for him.
But not this time.
This time, he was needed at home.
“There will not be a Germany.” He wondered how she’d take the news.
Not well it seemed. Her usual cool gray eyes had opened wide in shock. “Wait, what?”
“Tilly is due November twenty-second.” He walked toward the house, uneasy with displeasing his staff.
“But you’re playing Munich that night.” She trotted behind him.
“We’ll need to delay.” He tried to be as confident with his decision as he could.
He hated to fail his band and his fans, but he had no choice.
“Really?” She pursed her lips at him as he opened the side door into the kitchen to let her in.
“Yeah.” He gestured for her to take a seat at the shaker wood kitchen table.
There was no question. He would be there for Tilly. The decision seemed so simple now. “Marjo, my life will change with the baby.”
“Are you letting me go?” Distress suddenly showed on her face. Marjo really needed this job and its benefits. She had a sick kid to worry about and Cass knew the health care costs were steep.
“No, are you crazy?” His expression eased as he tried to reassure her. “You’re indispensable. I’ll need you more than ever. We’ll need you.”
“So, postpone Germany, then? Okay. For how long?” She seemed to relax, but her mind was on the implications of his decision. “When do you want us to announce it? It’ll take some finessing. They’ve been waiting for six years. They made plans. And all the contracts you need to amend. You’re ready for that?”
“I know.” Guilt hit him full force again. But Tilly came first.
He turned from Marjo and got busy at the counter to make a pot of coffee.
“Does Karim know?” she asked.
His phone buzzed before he could answer. He picked the device from his back pocket and caught the text from his manager.
“Speaking of the devil, Karim’s done with the fans.”
“Let me go get him.” Marjo stood from the white kitchen chair. “He’ll have boxes of leftover swag to carry.”
“Nah, sit down.” Cass motioned for her to stay inside. This would be a good time to break his final decision to Karim. Make some plans. “I got him.”
“Cass?” Tilly walked into the kitchen in her pregnant dressing gown, voluptuous and still groggy from sleep. Her hair tousled down over the fuzzy pink robe which matched the slippers at her feet. The definitively feminine outfit was so unlike her that his heart melted to glimpse into a moment of how a future with her in the privacy of their home would look like. The mother of his child, dressed as no one other than him would see.
She was worth it. He was doing the right thing in pausing his music engagement for the birth and beyond.
“Have a seat, chérie. You look exhausted. Coffee?” He gestured to the full pot that had finished percolating.
“I can’t.” She rested her hand on her belly and plopped herself in a chair across from Marjo.
“Of course.” Marjo got up, her usual efficient self already starting the kettle and getting a mug from the caddy on the counter. “Some herbal tea would be better. I’ll get it for you.”
“I have to go let my manager into the estate.” He looked at Tilly, wanting nothing more than being the person taking care of her. But he had too much on his plate. He had to let others help. “I’ll be right back.”
As he took one more glance at Marjo taking out a tea bag from a glass jar and putting it into a ceramic mug before he closed the kitchen door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of doom.
Would they ever be left alone?