3. Cassian
Cassian
Thank god for the alcohol flowing like water in this place. I take another swig of champagne and set my empty glass on a passing tray. I’d prefer something a little stronger and a lot less fizzy, but only Viv’s dad and those he deems worthy get to drink something other than bubbly.
I definitely don’t qualify.
Reaching for another glass, my eyes find her again.
She’s wearing an incredible black dress that fits her like a glove and sets off her creamy skin beautifully.
Her dark hair hangs loose around her shoulders, and her cheeks have just a hint of color to them.
The necklace she’s wearing matches the diamond on her finger. I chug half my wine.
They look good together, but then again, Viv would look good with anyone. She angles her body toward his as if she can’t bear to be away from him. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it or if that’s just how people in love act subconsciously.
Landon doesn’t pay much attention to her.
He’s much too busy schmoozing with politicians to care that the most incredible woman in the world has agreed to marry him.
What happens after a few years, when what little novelty is there wears off?
Will he trade her in for a newer model at the same time he trades in his BMW?
I drain the rest of my drink, forcing my eyes elsewhere before anyone notices how long I’ve been staring. I’m just setting my glass down when Lady Wilson approaches me. Fuck. Did she see me watching Viv?
She smiles when she reaches me, but her Botoxed face won’t let it reach her eyes, or maybe that’s the lack of sincerity. “Cassian,” she says, her hands knotting together. She’s not as attractive as either of her daughters, even though they got their strong cheekbones and olive complexions from her.
“Lady Wilson,” I say with a nod. Whatever this exchange is, I hope it ends as quickly as it began.
The nannies were the ones who kept an eye on Bash and Vivienne when the three of us played together.
I’m not sure their mother ever spoke more than a dozen words to me, and I’m not keen on changing that now.
“One of the servers has just fallen ill, and since you’re practically staff already, I was hoping you’d be willing to fill in. Besides,” she says, her fake smile widening as if we’re sharing an inside joke, “you’re already dressed for the part.”
I blink at her as my brain tries to come up with an appropriate response. Has she confused me with my father, who actually works for her? Maybe she saw me staring at Viv and decided to remind me of my position in society. Regardless, there’s only one right thing to say.
“I’d be happy to,” I tell her. “What would you like me to do?”
Five minutes later, I’m wearing white gloves a size too small and carrying a silver tray laden with caviar on artisan crackers that taste like cardboard and probably cost a couple bucks a piece.
Normally, I’d hang out with the rest of my friends at something like this, but Viv doesn’t normally get engaged, and socializing is the last thing I feel like doing. At least circulating with food gives me something to do besides plot ways to end Landon Davenport.
I spot Viv talking to Sutton across the room, and before I know it, my feet are taking me in that direction.
Sutton’s hair is pulled back into a low bun instead of her usual ponytail, and I almost don’t recognize her.
She’s wearing a simple black gown and five-inch heels.
As I approach, she teeters slightly, and I see the glass of champagne in her hand.
“She’s about to get shit-faced, isn’t she?” I murmur to Viv. Sutton rarely drinks—part of the rigors of being a national tennis champion—so when she does, she goes from zero to a hundred in seconds.
Spinning around to face me, Viv lifts a hand to her chest. “You scared me.” Her diamond ring sparkles in the light from the chandeliers.
“Cassian!” Sutton says, throwing herself at me.
I have just enough time to move the tray I’m holding out of the way and grab her with my other arm. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Sutton Mercer is the girl you want in your corner during a fight and the last person you want pissed off at you. Or piss-drunk.
As if I’ve summoned him out of thin air, Shep appears at my elbow. “She got into the champagne, didn’t she?”
“Yep,” I say, fighting to keep Sutton upright. I’m relieved to see him, because whether he’ll admit it or not, he’s the secret glue holding us all together. Bash and Viv formed our group, but Shep is the one who keeps us from splintering apart.
“Shepard,” she croons, patting his jacket.
“Alright, let’s go.” Shep swings Sutton’s arm around his neck and leads her to the door. Considering he restores historic buildings for a living, he’s certainly seen his fair share of beauties on the verge of collapse.
“Thank you,” Viv calls after him, before turning to the tray of hors d’oeuvres in my hands. “Are all those for you?”
“Nah. Want one?” I say, just so I can watch her nose scrunch up at the caviar.
“Definitely not.” As her gaze falls onto my gloved hands, she frowns. “What are you doing, Cass?”
Shrugging, I give her a lopsided smirk. “Mingling.”
“You hate mingling.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“Why are you dressed like a server?” she says.
I hoist the tray higher, the fabric of the gloves straining to cover my hands. “Your mother asked me to fill in.”
Viv blinks and takes a step back. “She did what?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, lowering my voice.
“That’s ridiculous. I’ll talk to her.”
I grab Viv’s arm before she can march off to give her mother a piece of her mind. “No, you won’t.” Her skin feels soft and warm even through my stupid gloves, and I fight the urge to brush my thumb against it.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t mind.”
Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff of disbelief. “Well, I do.”
“You saying anything won’t change the way she sees me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Viv,” I say, waiting until she looks at me. “It’s fine. Really.” Does she seriously think I’m not used to it by now?
She pauses, then resignation settles over her face. “Will you at least dance with me so I can make it up to you?”
I search for a sign she’s joking, but she just blinks those dark green eyes at me as she waits for my answer.
Everything in me screams “yes,” despite the fact that I’m a terrible dancer and that I’m the last person she should be dancing with at her engagement party.
But I’ve never been able to say no to her, not once in the twenty years we’ve known each other.
“Sure,” I croak.
Her face breaks into a smile I would sell my soul for. She grabs a passing server and thrusts my tray at him. “Can you take this back to the kitchen for us?”
He looks surprised but takes it from her. After he disappears, Viv turns to me expectantly. I hold out my hand.
“Those have to go,” she says with a disdainful look at my gloves.
I pluck them off finger by finger and toss them into a nearby potted plant. “They were just starting to grow on me.”
“More like you were starting to grow through them,” she mutters, taking my bare hand.
A thrill shoots through me at the feel of her skin against mine. I lead her onto the dance floor. Normally, I’d have to make a concentrated effort to ignore the hundreds of eyes on me, but with Viv in my arms, it’s like breathing. She consumes all my attention.
We join the rest of the couples swaying to the music, and I relish the way she feels against me. This is likely the last time I’ll ever get the chance to put my hands on her. By the end of October, she’ll be married. I have to savor every second I have before then.
The string quartet in the corner is playing pop covers, and I wait for Viv to make a comment about them profaning classical music, but she doesn’t.
As we drift over the parquet floor, I shoot furtive glances at Landon, feeling like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, but the guy couldn’t care less that his fiancée is dancing with me.
“Tell me more about him,” I say, jerking my chin in his direction. “What’s he like?”
Her eyes skirt that way, and I wonder if she’s embarrassed to be out here with me. “He’s . . . complicated.”
I frown. It doesn’t sound like a good thing when she says it like that. “In what way?”
“Not in a bad way,” she says, shaking her head. “He can just be difficult to get to know.”
Leading her in a spin, I try not to get caught up in the way she looks in her dress—like Aphrodite herself came to earth to grace mere mortals with her presence. The light she usually carries has grown dim over the past few years, and I wish I could do something to reignite it.
“But you have?” I ask. “Gotten to know him?”
A flush crawls up her neck and settles in her cheeks, making her look even younger than twenty-two. “Yes, I would say I know him pretty well.”
“And does he know you?”
She sighs. “Why are you asking me these questions, Cass?”
“I’m trying to catch up. It’s been a long time since the two of us had a real conversation.”
“This feels more like an interrogation,” she says, giving me a sharp glance.
I shake my head. “It’s not meant to be. I guess I just want to make sure that this is what you want.”
She looks away, watching the crowd as we glide across the floor. We’re not following any particular dance, just swaying in time to the crappy music and pretending I know what I’m doing.
“Do you think I’d be doing this if it wasn’t what I wanted?” she asks.
I take a second before replying, because the truth is, I’m not sure. A few years ago, the answer would have been a resounding no, but the Viv of today is a different woman than she was back then.
When I don’t respond, she meets my gaze. “Are you seriously not going to answer?”
“What do you want me to say, Viv? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“I haven’t changed.”
“So you suddenly like caviar?” I say, nodding at a server walking past. “What about the band? Did you request the Katy Perry covers?”
“Cass, I—”
“The Viv I knew never would’ve wasted the opportunity to have a party outside.”
“It’s not that sim—”
“It’s the end of June, Viv. The weather’s gorgeous. Don’t tell me this stuffy ballroom was your idea.” I soften my gaze as I wait for her to tell me I’m wrong.
“My mother planned it,” she says quietly. “We agreed that we’d do the wedding my way if she threw the engagement party.”
“You agreed to that?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders sag, and I wish she’d let me take some of the burdens she’s carrying. “I just hope she keeps her end of the bargain.”
“If you need to bring in the cavalry, give me a call,” I say, ducking to meet her eyes. “You know we’re all here for you, right?”
“I know.” She gives me a sad smile. I’d find a way to bring the moon to earth for her if it meant that smile would reach her eyes again.
Something on the far side of the room catches my attention, giving me the perfect way to lighten her melancholic mood. “I smell trouble,” I say.
She turns to see what I’m looking at. Slightly hidden behind a pair of potted palm trees—ridiculous, since Viv hates the beach—Bash and Marlowe have their heads bent together, matching grins on their faces. “God save anyone those two set their sights on,” Viv says.
Bash and Marlowe are like sparks in a room full of gunpowder. They’re never content to play with fire; they need to burn the whole world down. “God save us all,” I say with a chuckle.
Viv doesn’t appear to share my amusement. “Do you ever worry about him?”
“About Bash?” I glance back over at my best friend. “Not any more than usual. Why?”
“He still doesn’t remember that night.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“I’m just scared that history will repeat itself.” She bites her lip, and I force my eyes away.
“It’s been three years, Viv. We can’t babysit him forever. It’s time to let him blaze his own trail.”
“I know,” she says, watching Bash and Marlowe again. “The problem is, he torches everything in his path.”
Without meaning to, I draw her closer, until her body is pressed up against mine.
I only meant to reassure her that everything would be fine, but the instant I have her in my arms, I’m unable to let her go.
The scent of vanilla and oranges from her perfume swirls around us, and she makes no move to leave.
Viv tenses in my arms, and I follow her gaze. Bash is walking toward one of the servers, Marlowe’s eyes following his every move. “What are they doing?” she mutters.
“Hopefully not making another Molotov cocktail.” We don’t need a repeat of the Bora Bora incident.
“Not this time,” she says. “I think he’s just flirting.”
Sure enough, Bash is wearing his stupid-ass grin, which is basically his regular grin on steroids, but for some reason, girls always fall for that shit. It’s as if they each think they’re the only one he’s ever used it on.
The server he’s talking to turns, flipping her braid over her shoulder, and I catch sight of her profile. “Shit,” I mutter. “That’s my boss’s sister.”
“The mechanic?” Viv asks.
“Yeah. He’s not going to be happy about this.” Slate Lawson is many things. Tolerant of attention paid to his little sister is not one of them.
“God, I hope Bash doesn’t do something stupid.”
“If he does, her brother will make him regret the day he was born.”
Viv turns to me with wide eyes. We’ve pretty much stopped dancing, but she’s still clinging to me, and I’d have to be dead before I’d let go of her. Maybe not even then. “Maybe we should warn him?”
“Nah.” I shrug. “He can take care of himself. Besides, if he hurts Briar, I might throw a few punches myself.” She’s a sweet girl.
I don’t know her very well, but she’s helped out at the front desk a few times.
Together, we switched the radio station to alternative rock, then hid the remote so none of the other guys could change it back to country.
Viv blinks at me. “Do you . . . like her?”
“Yeah, she’s cool,” I say, glancing back at Bash and Briar. She’s laughing at something he said, and he tucks her hair behind her ear the way I’ve seen him do with a thousand other girls.
Next to me, Viv stiffens. “Maybe you should swoop in and save her, then.”
I look down at her. Her jaw is set in a hard line, her body rigid. Does she think . . . ? “I don’t like her like that. She’s great, but she’s not my type.”
“You have a type?”
“You know I do,” I say quietly.
Her eyes dart to mine as her dark-cherry lips part, leaving me breathless. A firework explodes outside, the sound echoing through the room as bright colors flare over the pond.
Viv flinches at the racket and pulls away. “I should go. Landon will be looking for me.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Good idea.”
She gives me another one of those sad smiles that feel like a punch to my esophagus. “Thank you for the dance, Cassian.”
“Anytime,” I say, then watch as the love of my life walks away to take the hand of another man.