Chapter 10
CASSANDRA
I was the good girl growing up. Responsible.
The one my parents could rely on and put in charge.
While my twin goofed off and did whatever he wanted, I helped Dad sort the laundry.
I reminded him at the grocery store that Eli didn’t like green grapes, and that we couldn’t get the kind with seeds because Jude would spit them everywhere.
I made sure I never showed anyone anything except what they wanted to see.
But I still did some bad things.
Sometimes, when I knew it wouldn’t impact my grades or my parents wouldn’t find out, I skipped school and went to the movies.
I even got a belly button piercing when I was sixteen.
But the most secretive thing I ever did—the thing that would have gotten me in more trouble than a tattoo—was sneaking my friends into the empty rooms at the Rolling Hills resort.
It was a skill I never thought I’d have to use again.
Yet here I was, skulking around in the dark like a criminal. I had to admit, it was a little bit thrilling, even though it was also stupid as hell.
“This way.” I planted my hands on Blake’s damp back, trying not to notice how his muscles shifted and flexed under the layers of fabric.
All I was doing was repaying Blake for pulling me from the river. And maybe paying a little penance for being so hard on him every moment after.
I led Blake along the treed path to the side entrance now, giving him a gentle nudge in the right direction every time he veered sideways.
There was a set of rooms in the west wing that had been closed off for various repairs recently, but were still made up with bedding.
That’s where I was going to take Blake; where I’d leave him for the night to sleep it off.
“It’s so nice out here,” Blake said, stopping to inspect a giant rhododendron.
Technically, I wasn’t just a grown woman now, but CEO of this hotel.
There was no one to get me in trouble. But Blake was supposed to be a married man.
Maybe I could have walked him through the front door if I hadn’t stood out there getting soaked learning his darkest secret.
But not with us both drenched. Not with Blake being a loose cannon. At least, that’s what I told myself.
After we’d reached the back side of the hotel, Blake looked down at me in the shadows. “It seems like you’ve done this before,” he said, his voice an exaggerated whisper.
I glared at him, but it went way over his whiskey-addled head.
“Not for a long time,” I said.
“So I’m not the first boy you snuck into the hotel?” Blake sounded delighted.
“Do you want my help or not?”
“Ow,” Blake said.
I turned to see he’d gotten whacked in the face by a large shrub. I fought to contain my laughter at the sight of Blake looking slightly dazed, a leaf fluttering off his cheek. “That wouldn’t happen if you stayed on the path.”
“Did you push me?”
I laughed. “No.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cuz you don’t like me. And I don’t blame you.”
“I don’t—” I hesitated. “That’s not true,” I said softly.
Then, to my surprise, Blake reached out and took my hand.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. I should have taken my hand away. I should have tucked my hands under my arms and led him, untouching, to the door. Even if the fake marriage situation didn’t exist, we had a business relationship.
“I don’t want you to fall,” he said. As if I was the one at risk of tumbling.
But it felt good holding Blake’s hand. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like we’d created our own little bubble, even if it was just for this moment. Even if Blake didn’t remember it tomorrow. Maybe it was because Blake wouldn’t remember it tomorrow.
“Just because you’re holding my hand doesn’t mean I couldn’t still hurt you,” I said. It was meant to be lighthearted, a joke about pushing him in the bushes.
But Blake’s voice went serious. “I know.”
When I glanced up at him, his eyes were on mine. Not quite steady, but definitely on mine. His hand was warm on mine too, steady and firm, as if this were real.
We didn’t say anything as we passed under all the darkened rooms of the shuttered east wing.
Luckily, that in itself proved enough of a distraction.
I shivered, despite myself, knowing we were passing the boarded-up Room 114.
It was ridiculous. But still creepy, especially at this hour.
Finally, we crossed over to the west wing.
“Come on,” I said. I flashed my universal key card at the door, and a moment later, we were pushing through into the brightly lit stairwell.
I was already at the stairs when Blake, behind me, said, “Wait.”
I stopped before taking a step up.
“Can you turn around?”
I didn’t want to turn around. I’d look like a mess under these fluorescent lights.
But also, now that we were out of the rain and inside the building, it was like if I turned around and took him in, I’d have to admit I’d done this in a strange way, when there were other ways I could have helped him.
He wasn’t going to remember this tomorrow, I reminded myself.
This would be like a bizarre dream to him, at best.
When I turned, Blake was leaning back against the door. He’d flipped his wet hair out of his eyes, but a wet lock of it fell across his forehead. He was soaking wet. Rumpled. Drunk.
Gorgeous. I could admit that now, in the safety of this secret moment.
Something electric danced in my stomach. “Happy now?”
“Not yet.” He moved toward me, his gait surprisingly steady.
“I thought you were drunk?” My voice came out slightly strained, like I hadn’t quite found it all.
“I am. Shit-faced.”
Maybe he thought this was an invitation. That I’d been coming onto him. Maybe I was. Still, I instinctively backed up as he came closer, my heels hitting the stair riser. “Blake, I’m taking you up to a room to sleep it off.”
He was right in front of me now. My pulse pumped fast and hot in my throat. I could have moved or turned around. I could have done a thousand things. But the bravado I wore every day like a shield was stripped away under his gaze. All I could do was look away, unable to meet his eye.
But Blake brought his finger to my jaw, turning my face back toward him.
I sucked in a breath. The energy in the space between us snapped with electricity.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“What do you want me to do?”
His words made everything sway for a moment.
I swallowed, gripping the handrail like a lifeline.
He was standing so close to me I could see the texture of the skin at his throat.
The gold at the edges of his caramel-colored eyes.
I could smell the scent of the stuff he’d put in his hair to try to tame it; the whiskey on his breath.
A drop of water dripped from that loose lock on his forehead onto the bare skin of my chest, making me gasp.
His eyes followed it as it ran down my décolletage and into the crevice between my breasts.
“I want you to go upstairs,” I said, my skin burning with his gaze.
“Okay,” Blake said. He took a step back. Respectful. Waiting.
Somehow, we made it up to the third floor, which was quiet and dimly lit, with a few room service trays on the floor outside the occupied rooms. I found the room in question and swiped my card, my pulse still throbbing.
“Here you go,” I said as I briskly walked into the room and stood between the two queen beds, extending my arms. “Take your pick.”
Blake came over, veering slightly so that his leg hit the bed on my left. He sat down hard on it and flopped backward, arms splayed.
“I’m going to go now,” I said. “You should probably take that wet suit off.”
Blake raised himself up on his elbows. “Wait,” he said.
I was already at the end of the bed.
“Please,” he said. “Not yet. I just… please stay for a bit. I hate being alone. I’m always fucking alone.”
I hesitated. His expression was so pained my chest squeezed. Me being alone, that was a choice. What must it be like to have the facade of a relationship but to go to bed every night alone? To have everyone think you have everything, but at home you have nothing? I supposed that was a choice, too.
“Just for a minute,” I whispered. Then, louder, I said, “I’ll wait in the bathroom while you get undressed. Tell me when you’re under the blanket and I’ll… I’ll stay over here for another minute.”
Suddenly all his bleakness disappeared. He grinned goofily. “Thank you.”
I pinched my lips to keep the smile from spreading on my face. I liked this side of him, this uncensored, unbuttoned version of the careful, controlled Blake Harrington I’d seen so far.
But I couldn’t relax with Blake. If I did, it was a quick and slippery slope to nowhere good.
In the bathroom, I grabbed a towel to dry off my hair. I was a mess. But it was fine—from this side of the resort I could go directly down to the staff exit and be back at my apartment in five minutes.
“Cassandra!” Blake sounded alarmed.
I rushed back out.
He was stuck in his wet suit jacket, his elbows askew.
I bit back a laugh. “Here.” I went over to him and tugged on the collar of his jacket.
With great effort, we managed to extricate his arms. I hung it on the back of a chair.
When I looked back, Blake was sitting on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, missing them completely. His eyes were beginning to droop.
I hesitated. Then I went over, placed my hands on his, and gently moved them away. “Let me do it.” My fingers undid one, then another.
His face was tilted up at me. “You’re good at buttons.”
I smiled. “I’m sober.”