The Bound Bride (5 page)

She listened and nodded and placed the phone into her clutch.

Iris looked as if she would explode.

“Well?” she asked.

“Showtime.”

Chapter Seven

Iris took Cassandra’s arm and led her down the steps to the street. She opened the door to reveal a silver town car and a smiling chauffeur. He nodded at Cassandra. Then Iris. He could obviously tell which
girl was destined to be his passenger.

Cassandra turned to Iris with a nervous smile.

“Iris?”

Iris hugged her. Gently.

“Don’t want to muss you up,” Iris said.

She lightly kissed Cassandra’s cheek and pointed to the car.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

Cassandra squeezed her hand and stepped towards the car. The chauffeur held the door open and tipped his cap.

“Evening,” he said.

He was young and blonde. On the lanky side. But still super cute. Would
Oliver Chambers
prove as appealing?

“Hi,” Cassandra said. She extended her hand. The chauffeur took it with a bow and kissed her fingers. She wondered if
Oliver Chambers
, whoever he was, would
kiss
her hand.

The chauffeur smiled broadly.

“I’m—”

He waved his finger before her lips.

“No names. Not with me. That’s for the Boss.”

Cassandra swallowed.
The Boss
. The man in charge.
He
would call every shot in the hours ahead. And Cassandra had no choice but to follow along.

She looked back at Iris, who gave her friend a quick thumbs up. Cassandra slipped into the backseat and felt herself being spirited away to parts unknown.

The city passed by though the window. Cassandra pulled her wrap tighter and closed her eyes. It was happening.
Really
happening. She had a job to do. She was meant to be charming and engaged. She had spent the morning frying eggs and avoiding her bills. But this night, she would be a debutante. A socialite. Without a care in the world.

The car pulled up to the hotel. It was a massive, classic structure inviting men with money to take off their shoes. Cassandra spied a tall blonde in a gown of pink, fitted with crinoline, and felt like a fraud. She sank back into the leather seats as the chauffeur opened her door.

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Miss?”

Cassandra was reconsidering. She couldn’t do this. She was just a poor kid who had fallen on hard times. She drank like a fish. Smoked liked a shark. She wasn’t what he wanted. She wasn’t what anyone wanted.
Oliver Chambers
had obviously made a mistake. She wasn’t the girl for the job.

She should just go home.

“Miss?”

Cassandra lifted her eyes to the chauffeur’s soft face. He reached for her hand. Cassandra couldn’t move.

The chauffeur removed his cap to reveal a buzz cut. He
was
cute.

“Okay there?” he asked.

She barely managed a nod. He snapped his fingers.

“It’s okay,” he said. “He’s right inside. Waiting.”

Right inside
.

She had come this far. The solution to all of her problems was just within reach. She could slink back into the certainty of debt. Or she could take a
chance
.

And
he
was waiting.

Cassandra let the chauffeur guide her from the car. She felt ready to faint as he steadied her back.

“Easy,” he said.

It was
far
from easy.

She looked to the good Samaritan who was part of the package and bit her lip.

“What’s your
name?” she desperately asked.

His smile morphed into a small laugh.

“Me? I’m Jeff.”

So she could know his name. But it didn’t go both ways. It was still something.

“Hey, Jeff.”

Tell me what I’m in for. Tell me that it’ll be okay. Tell me all about Oliver Chambers.

Cassandra waited for answers that never came as Jeff reached into his breast pocket and fired off a text message. The response was almost instantaneous. Jeff keyed in a quick reply and smiled at Cassandra.

“You’re up, Miss.”

They neared the door. She could still chance her mind and order
Jeff
to take her home. He would probably ignore her. She wasn’t calling the shots. Maybe she could just take off into the night and pray against the blisters bound to form as she ran through unfamiliar streets.

She didn’t have the strength for it. She barely had the strength to just meet Oliver Chambers.

“Miss?”

Cassandra nodded, and Jeff held the door open.

She entered a lobby of beige and black. The floor was a maze leading in one direction. The drapery reached to the ceiling and threatened to crack through the ceiling and touch the sky. Cassandra took a deep breath and continued to move forward.

And then she saw him.

He was seated on a curved sofa the same shade as the drapes. He wore a blue suit and looked from his phone to her. He already had a drink in his hand, and he raised it in her direction with a smile.

He had to be
Oliver Chambers
.

He was obviously older than she had imagined. Definitely well into his forties. But below his light brown hair danced a pair of bright blue eyes and a grin that was even
more
inviting. He had summoned Cassandra to his side. And here she was. He took a quick swig of his drink and deposited his empty glass on the highest level of a three tiered table. He smoothed his jacked against a lean chest and stepped towards her.

She was his for the night. And she no longer felt anything resembling doubt. She just wanted to see where this would lead.

Oliver was a breath away. He offered his hand. Cassandra accepted his touch without hesitation. She waited for his lips on his fingers. But he only shook her hand.

She wanted more.

“Trixie?” he asked.

Cassandra blushed and nodded.

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“Kind of. Well are you or aren’t you?”

Maybe Jeff couldn’t know her name. Maybe Oliver wasn’t supposed to know her name. But Mary Lynn had told her to
be real
.

Cassandra would take the chance. She held his hand tighter.

“Actually, it’s Cassandra.”

He seemed to ponder her true name. He was rolling it around his eyes, focusing on everything but her. She wanted his eyes back on her. His blue
eyes.

“Cassandra,” he said.

What would he say next?

And their eyes met again.

“That’s better. I like it. I’m Oliver.”

He left out his surname. One of two that drove a company to heights that she could barely imagine. Cassandra didn’t know if she should be flattered by the familiarity or fear the anonymity that might make her disposable at the end of the night.

She took the former as he led her to the curved sofa and beckoned for her to sit. Cassandra obeyed and he snapped his fingers for a waiter to freshen his drink. The server appeared and waited.

“I’ll do this again,” Oliver said as he held his empty glass out. He turned to Cassandra with a sweeter smile.

“And for you? What do you want,
Cassandra
?”

A beer.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sip white wine and laugh without a care in the world. Her world was full of cares.

Oliver looked from her to the server.

“Bring her a Bud. Come to think of it, I’ll take one, too.”

The server was off. He had read her profile. Thoroughly. Was he offering an olive branch? Or did he have a different game in mind?

“That
is
your personal preference. Right?”

Cassandra nodded.

She looked up at the ceiling mingling with the drapes. The night had yet to begin, and Cassandra already felt that she was losing the battle. She felt like Carrie at the prom. She was only here to be led to the Met stage and drenched in pig’s blood before the night was out.

She was spending too much time on the movie channels.

Oliver leaned close to her ear.

“I like it, too. From time to time.”

She met his eyes and expected a smirk. But his smile only grew warmer. Cassandra returned his grin. And she
believed
him.

She laughed.

“Thought it’d be too
common
for you.”

Oliver fell back with his own laugh and folded his hands behind his head.

“Common? Hardly. I enjoy the taste. And you like it. You’re not common.”

She liked the way it sounded. He was telling her everything that she needed to hear. It felt nice to be understood. By someone other than Iris. Oliver moved forward in his seat and touched her face.

“No. Not at all.”

Cassandra had yet to drink, but her head was already whirling every which way. She had to keep herself on point. She should ignore the beer when it ultimately arrived.

She took his hand and lowered her stare to his thighs. Was he a runner? What was he running away from?

And she was back to playing the part he paid for.

“You’re very sweet. All… this. And the opera too? I’m game.”

Was it too much?

The beers arrived. Oliver tipped the server generously and handed Cassandra a frosty glass. She seized it and drank quickly. Oliver laughed.

“You are game. Good. I like a girl who knows what she needs.”

And Cassandra did. She needed to reach the end of the night. She needed money to pay her mounting bills. She needed…

Oliver downed all there was of his beer in a single gulp.

“I
think you need
the opera. I saw your profile.”

Cassandra felt that she was nearing familiar ground.

She set her glass down.

“Yes. Love
it. You?”

She was challenging him to speak plainly. This
wasn’t
foreplay and all that in entailed. He wanted her for the gala. And Cassandra had dressed for the occasion. She was ready for a night of expertly scored Italian text and a hopeless romance. Even if
this
promised to be the latter.

But she
did
like his eyes.

Oliver moved closer. He draped his arm around the back of her seat. She waited for his fingers, but he kept them from her skin.