Chapter 16
16
E ven though it was just a pit stop on the way to somewhere else, Cassie could never go to Brighton, or any coastal town, and not feel a thrill at that first glimpse of the sea.
It made her think of day trips to Southend when she was a kid. Wedged into the middle of the back seat between Dan and Emma, the three of them craning their necks, wanting to be the first to shout, ‘I can see the sea and the sea can see me!’
Cassie managed to restrain herself this time but couldn’t help the happy sigh at the sight of the pale blue railings along the front, the shingle beach and enticing stretch of sea. The sun was climbing steadily in the sky, chasing away the last of the early-morning chilliness, and glinting off the water.
Marc followed the satnav to the roastery of his choice, which was just off the promenade. Because he was Marc, he found a parking space right outside. And because he was a tech multi-millionaire it took him mere seconds to pay an astronomical parking charge on his phone.
Although she was worried about the time and the online delivery arriving early, Cassie was pleased to stretch her legs, take in a couple of lungfuls of sea air and listen to the caw of the seagulls.
She was also pleased to dive straight for the bathroom as soon as they entered the coffee shop. When she came out, Marc was deep in conversation with one of the baristas about single-origin roasts and the merits of a Latin blend over an Italian blend.
Cassie didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so happy. He was obviously going to be a while, whereas she knew exactly what she wanted.
‘A three-shot latte with semi-skimmed milk, no foam and one of those pains aux raisin, please.’
Marc was now wanging on about coffee grinders.
It had to be weird to be a multi-millionaire. Weird good, as in you could do a full food shop in Waitrose or M&S and never have to look at the prices. Cassie couldn’t imagine such extravagance. Marc probably never had to look at the price of anything he wanted to buy unless it was a private jet or a Picasso.
Still, it must be tiring to have people, like Heather, constantly trying to take advantage. Even if you could afford it. Being a multi-millionaire must mean that rarely did anyone offer to get their round in.
Marc was a lot of bad things. Very bad things. He was now sniffing a handful of coffee beans, but he had been very generous when it came to this weekend. He’d saved Cassie hundreds and hundreds of pounds.
She took a twenty-pound note out of her purse to pay for her coffee and pastry, then nodded in Marc’s direction. ‘And whatever he’s having.’
‘There’s no need,’ he said very stiffly.
Treating Marc to a coffee seemed to really annoy him, so it was a win-win. Cassie patted him on the arm and felt his muscles tense at her touch. ‘No, it’s my treat, princess. You deserve it.’
He looked so offended that Cassie burst out laughing. She accepted the paper bag with her pastry in it from the server and nudged Marc, who was now ignoring her, with her hip. ‘I’ll be on the nearest free bench on the seafront. Can you be a love and bring me my coffee?’
She didn’t wait to hear his icy response but left pretty sharpish after that.
It was five minutes until Marc joined her.
Cassie was on her phone again. It was just one of those mornings. She was now FaceTiming Russell, who was having a wardrobe panic. Or rather, Lucy had nipped out to get a wax and pedicure – she believed they were going away for the weekend, just the two of them – and he was trying to pack a secret bag full of things she’d need.
‘It’s funny but it looks to me like you’re lying on your bed and not packing at all,’ Cassie said, as Marc sat down next to her and handed over her coffee. ‘Did you spit in it?’
‘It did cross my mind, but no,’ he murmured, as Russell frowned.
‘Who are you talking to?’
Cassie leaned closer to Marc, their shoulders brushing, and held out her phone so Russell could see the two of them. ‘Marc’s here.’
Russell smiled widely. ‘So you haven’t murdered each other yet?’
Marc’s smile was even wider. ‘Again, it did cross my mind, but no.’
‘We can get on perfectly fine,’ Cassie insisted and she felt Marc’s silent laugh, his body shifting against hers, his breath stirring the ends of her hair which had escaped her scarf.
She’d forgotten that underneath her scarf she still had her hair wound round a curling rod, but now Russell was joined by Fleur and Joni, who peered at her curiously.
‘How long have you had your eye patches on?’ Fleur asked. ‘I wouldn’t wear them out in public but you do you.’
Cassie’s hand flew to her face. She’d forgotten about them too. They hardly even showed in the tiny little square on her phone screen though Marc might have thought to mention it. ‘Oh God, what must I look like?’
‘We stan a self-care queen. Also, Dad’s not packing the secret bag, he’s making us do it,’ Joni added.
‘Delegating,’ Russell insisted. He was very smiley but was there something sinister behind his brazen scheme to get the girls to do the legwork? ‘So, why I’m ringing is I can’t find the list you sent me.’
No, nothing sinister. It was just Russell being Russell. Weaponised incompetence, Lucy called it.
‘The list I emailed to you twice. The list that I then sent as several WhatsApp messages. That list?’ she asked tartly.
‘That’s the one,’ he said without even a flicker of shame.
‘I’ll email it again. Also, I’ll send it to Fleur and Joni, who seem to be the brains of the operation,’ she said as Marc rested his arm along the back of the bench. Cassie could feel his warm touch at her nape. He was still sitting close so he could see her phone screen and if Cassie moved a few more centimetres in his direction, they’d be pressed together, her head on his shoulder …
‘Earth to Cassie! Are we boring you?’
Cassie blinked. ‘No.’ She held up her coffee. ‘Haven’t had enough caffeine yet.’
Russell stretched and it seemed to Cassie that he winced slightly. ‘I was saying that I don’t know what’s happened to our fancy-dress outfits.’
‘What’s happened is that I have them,’ Cassie said. ‘I’ve always had them. On account of you asking me to sort that out for you.’
‘Oh, yes. I remember.’ He put his arm around Fleur who was snuggled next to him and kissed the top of her head. ‘Who are we going as again?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ Cassie said with a delighted grin. ‘Just you wait.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ Russell said, as Marc did lean in close then, so his cheek was pressed against Cassie’s and his expensive leather and amber scent was all around her.
‘Got to go now, Russ,’ he said. ‘Cassie gets very crabby when she’s not fully caffeinated. We’ll see you and Lucy in a bit. Later, brats.’
As Fleur and Joni gasped in mock outrage, he ended the call, plucked Cassie’s phone out of her hand and slid it into the pocket of his jeans.
It was Cassie’s turn to gasp in entirely real outrage. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘You’re welcome to retrieve it if you want me to get the wrong idea,’ he said silkily, which was unexpected . Almost as if he were flirting. ‘Or we can have ten minutes’ peace to drink our coffee and enjoy the view.’
Cassie sat back with an aggrieved little snort. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the weekend. Just being near Russell made her feel sad, plus it was quite the busman’s holiday. Her to-do lists for each day, but especially for today, were long and involved a lot of heavy lifting. Literally, heavy lifting.
‘You’re not very good at relaxing, are you?’ Marc asked, his fingers brushing the back of Cassie’s neck where, according to Castiel, she held all her tension.
Cassie could feel the weight of his gaze on her as she forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths. ‘I’m trying,’ she muttered.
It was also quite hard to relax when Marc was still sitting so close to her that a casual observer who knew nothing of their long and conflicted history might think they were a couple. But she made no effort to move away from him because even though he was invading Cassie’s personal space, he was solid and warm where she felt flimsy and cold.
Cassie sipped her coffee and watched the world go by. In an hour or so the seafront would be busy with pleasure-seekers but now it was home to people walking their dogs, runners and cyclists, a group of middle-aged women emerging from the waves like fierce ancient warriors. They were sitting downwind of the delicious fragrance of freshly baked doughnuts from the stall at the entrance to the pier. Cassie wanted to sniff the air like one of the Bisto kids.
If her hair hadn’t still been wanded and wrapped, the slight breeze would have ruffled what Cassie hoped would be loose but structured waves. In an hour or so, it would be far too hot to be wearing a thick hoodie but for now Cassie lifted her face to the sun to get some vitamin D. It was quite peaceful until her phone chimed three times in quick succession.
‘And we’re done with taking in the view,’ Marc said dryly as Cassie turned to him with an imploring expression.
‘I need my phone back. It might be something important.’
Marc shrugged. ‘And it might be Heather. Again.’
‘Do you really want me to retrieve it myself? Surely that counts as sexual harassment?’ Cassie didn’t even want to entertain the idea of sliding her hand into the pocket of Marc’s jeans, so close to his groin, his cock . She didn’t want to go there. Not ever again.
‘Who’d be sexually harassing who?’ Marc looked keenly at Cassie, who put her hands to her cheeks which felt as if they was burning. She couldn’t even blame it on the sun because she’d slathered her face in SPF 50, as she did every morning. ‘You’re no fun.’
‘There’s fun and then there’s things that are very much not fun,’ Cassie said, as he retrieved his phone and handed it to her.
Cassie made a performance of pulling down the sleeve of her hoodie before taking it like she didn’t want to be contaminated. Then an even bigger show of wiping her phone on the thick jersey.
‘You really are ridiculous,’ Marc said, though it lacked his usual bite, as if he wasn’t as annoyed by her alleged ridiculousness as he normally was.
‘Whatever.’ Cassie held up her very warm phone. ‘Message from Lydia, the caretaker, we can check in a bit early.’ She stood up. ‘Which is great. Because it’s eleven now and I’ve staggered our deliveries to start arriving at noon, so I’ll still have time to check the rooms first.’
She was already at the kerb and waiting to cross over the road but Marc was still sitting on the bench and absolutely not appreciating the urgency of the situation or that Cassie had a lot of things to do.
‘Come on!’ she called out with genuine irritation. ‘Shake a leg! We haven’t got all day.’