28. Cassian
Cassian
I’m still shaken up from my conversation with my dad yesterday, and now my stupid phone needs charging. I forgot to plug it in last night, and I’ve been using it to listen to music while I power wash the garden walls, so naturally, it dies in the middle of “Do I Wanna Know?”
I leave my boots on the door mat and head upstairs, the thick carpet in the corridor muffling my footsteps.
It feels weird to be in the house in the middle of the day.
My dad would box my ears if he caught me in here while there’s still work to be done.
One of the portraits of an old lady with hair two feet tall gives me a condescending look as I pass. I flip her off.
I slow when I approach Vivienne’s room. I haven’t seen her since she went on her run this morning. I know better than to look inside, but my eyes stage a mutiny when I reach the door, which stands ajar.
I allow myself one quick glance, but my steps falter when our eyes connect in the oval floor mirror. If she’s surprised to see me, she doesn’t let it show, but I do a double-take.
She’s wearing a white dress that can’t be anything other than her wedding gown. Creamy silk drapes over her hips, the long balloon sleeves ending in tight cuffs. The neckline cuts to a sharp V that I have no business looking at.
In my twenty-three years on earth, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“It’s just the reception one.” Viv’s voice breaks through the stagnant air, and I realize I’m staring, but how can anyone look away from an angel?
I grasp blindly for the doorframe, and when I find it, my fingers clutch it tightly.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Images parade through my mind: Viv walking down the aisle toward me, tipping her backward to kiss her, dancing with her in front of our family and friends.
Pictures that will never be mine, that will only ever live in my imagination, because the two of us will never be more than what we are right now.
“You okay?” she asks in a teasing tone, her gaze still holding mine in the reflection.
“I—” I’m not a blusher, but I can feel the heat crawling up my neck and face. “You look beautiful, Viv.” A fresh, hot pain lances through me. If she were mine, I’d sweep her into my arms and kiss her as if this were our last day on earth.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks grow pink. She drops her eyes and turns around to face me. “Like I said, it’s not the main dress.”
I don’t care if it’s the rag used to clean the floors. She looks like a goddamn queen in it. I clear my throat. “How many are there?”
“One for the rehearsal, one for the ceremony, one for the reception, and one for the send-off,” she says, ticking them off on her fingers. God, how many dresses does it take to get married?
“You’ll look radiant in all of them.” My voice still sounds husky, and I clear my throat in hopes it will get rid of the emotion clogging it. “Listen, about the other night—”
“I know, I shouldn’t have followed you. I’m sorry.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, but that’s not what I meant.” I twist my pinkie ring in circles. “You said I hurt you every day.”
Her lips part, and I get the overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her, to show her how I feel. “Cass . . .”
“I need to know what you meant by that,” I say quietly.
It’s been eating at me ever since. She can’t possibly think we have a shot at a future together, not after what I said in the stables about only kissing her because she was attractive and available.
I knew the second the words were out of my mouth I shouldn’t have done it, but by then it was too late.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, waving a hand. “I was tired and emotional.”
“Vivvy.” I take a step into the room, and my heart begins to pound. Her perfume hangs in the air, along with the scent of dusty manuscripts and ink. “Please tell me.”
Her fingers reach up and clasp the flame-shaped pendant resting in the hollow of her throat, but not before I recognize it. I gave it to her when we were fifteen. I never told her, but it took me four months of working an after-school job to save up for it. I had no idea she still had it.
“Can’t we just put it behind us?” she whispers.
I close the distance between us with careful steps. When we’re toe to toe, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Not until you tell me how I’m hurting you.”
“Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because I can’t stand the thought of causing you pain.”
She shakes her head, and I catch a glimpse of tears in her eyes. The realization is a fist slamming into my chest. I made her cry. Again.
“Viv—”
Her ringtone cuts me off. She swipes at her eyes and reaches for her phone. “Hi Mum,” she says, shooting me a glance.
Normally I’d leave, but there’s something in her look that makes me pause. She looks . . . apprehensive. Her teeth toy with her bottom lip as she listens.
“I know, Mum, but I think it can work. I’ve gone through all the details, and—”
Viv takes a deep breath as her mother speaks. She fiddles with the folds of her dress, scrunching the fabric between her fingers before letting it spring back. She won’t meet my eyes.
“I thought of that, too,” she says, “but I really want to have it in the stables. If we—”
I clench my hands into fists to prevent myself from ripping the phone from Viv’s hand and giving her mother a piece of my mind. If Viv wants to have the reception in the barn, she should damn well be allowed to.
As her mum drones on, probably listing all the reasons why it won’t work—which really all boil down to protecting the Wilson family’s precious image—Viv finally looks at me. Her eyes brim with sadness, and I can tell that she’s on the verge of giving up.
“Fight back,” I mouth to her.
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she keeps them on me as she says, “Mum, I’ve made my decision.”
There’s a brief pause. Viv’s lips curl up into a tiny smile, her gaze still locked on me. Elation fills my chest until I could soar away like a hot-air balloon. My flight is short-lived, though, because her face falls.
“No, you don’t need to get Dad,” she says, but I can tell it’s already too late. She deflates in front of me.
Several seconds later, Lord Wilson’s voice booms through the phone.
I couldn’t hear what his wife was saying to Viv, but I have no problem making out his words.
“Listen here, young lady,” he bellows. “If your mother says we’re having the reception in the ballroom, we’re damn well going to have it in the ballroom.
It’s bad enough you wanted to have the whole thing at Belgrave. ”
“I told Mum that I have it all sorted. It won’t be any extra trouble, I promise.” Viv’s bottom lip trembles, and for good reason. Her mother is a force to be reckoned with, but her dad is a lion on a killing spree.
“And I’m telling you the decision has been made. Since you can’t accept our answer, I’m signing you and Rhya up for a show in a few weeks. You evidently have too much time on your hands. You need to focus on something important,” Lord Wilson barks.
Shit. If my dad pushed me like that, I’d probably cave too. No wonder Viv struggles to have a backbone.
“Dad, I really don’t have time to compete right now,” she says.
“Then you’ll find the time. Rhya’s been out of the ring for too long. A few shows will be good for both of you.”
Viv closes her eyes and sucks in a long breath. I know what she’s going to say, so before she can, I snatch the phone from her hand.
“Lord Wilson?” I say. “It’s Cassian Cordero. I’m helping Vivienne with the wedding stuff, and there’s a lot left to do. She doesn’t have time for competitions right now.”
Viv looks at me with a horrified expression on her face, but it’s mingled with gratefulness.
“Listen, son,” Wilson says, his voice dripping with contempt.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing there with my daughter, but you’d better stay the hell away from her.
If I tell her to compete, she’s going to damn well do what I say, and if I find out that you got in the way of that, there will be hell to pay. ”
His whole speech is meant to instill fear, but the longer I look at Viv, the less afraid I feel. I let one side of my mouth lift into a half-smile, and after a few beats, she offers me a tentative one in return.
“I’ll take care of her, sir.” I have no clue where my newfound confidence is coming from, but I’m sick and tired of him bullying Viv. “We’ll see you at the wedding.” I end the call before he can say anything else and toss the phone onto Viv’s bed.
She stares at me as if she’s not sure who I am. “You realize you just made things a million times worse, right?”
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair. “Should I call him back?”
“Absolutely not.” Her smile blossoms into a full-blown grin. “That was awesome. I can’t believe you talked to him like that.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“Mad? I could kiss you right now.” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “That came out wrong.”
It feels as if a rubber band has been looped around my chest one too many times. “I knew what you meant.” My voice could scratch the paint from a car.
“You’re lucky, you know.” She sounds hesitant, as if she’s afraid of my reaction.
Lucky is the last thing I feel. “How’s that?”
She twists her hands together, finally leaving the wedding dress alone. “Your dad just lets you . . . be.”
I let out a huff. “You mean the way he ordered me to help you with the wedding or told me he’d come after me with his shotgun if I didn’t sleep at the manor to protect you?”
Her laugh carries a hint of discomfort. “It’s different between you, though. He says those things, but he’d never actually hurt you.”
“Depends on your definition of hurt,” I grumble.
“Come on, Cass.” She bumps my shoulder with her fist, and I stop breathing. A sparking fuse would’ve affected me less. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I do. I have a good dad.” If things had gone differently with my mum, would I be the same person? Maybe being raised solely by Mateo Cordero is the best outcome I could’ve asked for.
“Do you mind helping me with the zipper?” Viv turns around and motions to the back of her dress. “It’ll probably get stuck if I try.”
I stay rooted to the spot as she waits for me to help her undress. Sweat coats my palms, and all thoughts of my parents vanish from my mind. I want to tell Viv that I can’t do this, that she should find someone else, but my mouth feels like it’s full of sawdust.
She glances over her shoulder, a question in those emerald eyes. “Cass?”
I shake my head and take a step forward. “Sorry,” I croak out.
Slowly, I reach for the zipper. My fingers feel as though they’re made of molasses, and it takes three tries before I can grasp the tiny thing.
I do my best not to touch her as I pull it down, but I have to hold the fabric with my other hand or it’ll bunch up.
Her skin feels cool, and standing this close to her is sending the wrong signal to my dick. He thinks he’s about to get action.
When I finally reach the bottom, I nearly have a heart attack. A tiny bit of lavender lace peeks out from underneath the dress, and it takes more willpower than I even knew I possessed to not slide my hands around her waist and finish taking her clothes off.
“There. All done.” I move back quickly, before I do something stupid. Pretty sure this isn’t what my dad had in mind when he insisted I help Viv with wedding stuff.
“Thank you,” she says, holding the gown against her as she faces me. “For this and . . . earlier.” She nods toward her phone.
“No worries.” I shove my hands into my pockets, because it feels safer that way. “Do you want a ride into the city tonight?”
“That would be great.”
“I’ll pick you up at four,” I say, giving her a curt nod and heading for the door.
Somehow, I need to scrub the image of those lace panties from my mind before I sit next to Bash at dinner, because if he thinks for even one second that I’m fantasizing about his sister, there will be a bloodbath.