The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife (11 page)

How love wasn’t real and marriage only a financial arrangement.

Stephen had been a romantic, had wanted to believe he could live differently than his father, that not all marriages were about signing on the dotted line. He knew now how wrong that was.

A noise drew his attention to a closed door toward the back of the house. He knocked gently, then pushed it open. Inside, a young girl with curly brown hair—Annie he presumed—sat on the floor stacking blocks in color order: red, orange, yellow. All the same colors together. The tower toppled and she hit her head against a dresser before going again.

“Hello.”

Annie didn’t acknowledge him as she continued stacking. Her brow furrowed in concentration and she tapped the fingers of her left hand against her thigh as she stacked. Block, tap, block, tap. The room was small but clean, no clutter. No posters of kittens on the walls, no messy doll clothes strewn about. Everything was in an exact place.

The tower grew to over thirty blocks before it toppled again. And again, she slammed her head into the dresser.

“I’m going to read a book, but you don’t have to listen, okay?”

She continued building as Stephen pulled one of the books from her shelf. The back cover was torn and the spine broken, but it looked to have all the pages. He settled onto the floor across from her, legs crossed and started reading aloud.

Slowly, he noticed her acceptance of his presence. The tower fell again, but this time instead of hitting her head, she kicked the floor and let out a mewling whine. Next time, she merely threw one of the blocks against the wall.

Stephen was more than halfway through the book when he noticed she’d stopped building entirely and was listening to him. Pangs of sympathy went out for that little girl. He could see Cassie in her vulnerable green eyes.

He knew he should stay away, but the idea of Cassie facing her family’s issues alone, facing whatever this new trauma was without anyone at her side made him want to rescue her, lift her from this wreckage and lock her in a tower where she could be kept safe

He could make it better. He could let her out of this arrangement and allow her to spend time with her family. But memories of the past month outweighed thoughts of generosity.

Then, of course, there was Tatiana. Their earlier conversation took away all sympathy Stephen felt for Cassie immediately. All women were alike. Just like his father had warned. Cassie needed money for her family; Tatiana wanted payment for her silence.

As he read, Annie moved near him, but not close enough to touch. She merely sat and listened. His heart warmed. He wasn’t made of stone. She reminded him so much of his cousin. It was evident she was there, she saw the world in her own way, she only needed someone to help her express it better. God his heart went out for this family. For Cassie.

After a few more minutes, the little girl crawled into bed and closed her eyes. The excitement of the day shining bright on her wiped face and overly red cheeks.

Tucking the book back into place, he stepped out of the bedroom to find Cassie sitting on the floor in the hall, head in hand and legs crossed in front of her. He slid to the floor on the opposite wall.

“Is she all right?”

“She seems fine,” he answered, calculating how much it would harm him to reach forward and touch her leg in support. In the end he decided the price was too high. “Napping now. Probably tired from her adventure this morning.”

Her lashes glittered as she looked up toward him. “I-I don’t know.”

Vulnerable. And alone. And terrified. This woman didn’t resemble the fiery, angry woman from earlier. This one looked ready to crumble under the weight of pressure on her shoulders.

Her family teetered on the edge of insanity and in Cassie’s mind, she was somehow responsible. Stephen knew what that felt like.

A moment passed and Liz’s voice, ripe with alarm called them both into the living room. Cassie visibly steadied herself, squaring shoulders and wiping all looks of vulnerability from her eyes as she rose to meet this new challenge.

“Can I—” Stephen started to ask, but was silenced by the stony look on her face. He couldn’t help, it seemed to say, or she wouldn’t be able to continue.

He realized then how similar they were. He’d hardened his heart to love for fear of how it would destroy him; she’d been destroyed by the love she’d refused to harden herself against. Rising, he walked behind her.

Liz sat on the edge of the couch, newspaper spread on her knees, hands shaking. “Cassie. You. I—”

“Shh, Liz, what is it?” The way she straightened her posture reminded him of a boxer ready to face his opponent in the ring. She was braced for whatever came next.

He felt nothing but fierce pride for her in that moment.

“You’re. You’re...”

The words seemed caught as the woman’s eyes sharpened and suddenly pierced Stephen.

“Married,” she finished.

Chapter Eight

All the guilt, all the angst of what Cassie had tried to cover up bubbled over in the form of unstoppable laughter at her sister’s accusing tone. She snorted and pulled her hand to her lips. “I am.” The laughter continued as tears rolled down her cheeks. She grabbed her side as a stitch took hold. “Oh, Liz. You found out?”

Her eyes never left Stephen. “An announcement in the paper. That’s how I find out my only sister, my
baby
sister is married.”

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up as she turned her eyes to Stephen. Of all the nerve, how dare he?

“Wait, wait a minute.” He held up his hands. “We had an agreement, Cassie, and part of that was that this would be public.”

God she hoped Liz hadn’t caught the agreement part. A quick glance assured her she had not.

“So. It’s true?”

Liz looked more confused than angry. Cassie sat and took her hand. “Yes. Stephen and I are married. I didn’t want to make things messier for you than they already are. We’ll have a big wedding once everything is better with Annie, I promise.”

Liz frowned. “True love. Then?”

“True love. We couldn’t wait. I hope you aren’t too angry.”

“Relieved.” She took a deep breath as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to fill her lungs entirely. “I was afraid you were wasting your life away focused on me and Annie.” She closed her eyes for a moment, the frown deepening. “I’m a horrible big sister, aren’t I?”

“Never.”

Cassie took that opportunity to send a glare in Stephen’s direction. He didn’t look cocky, or judgmental, as she’d suspected he would. He looked, different. A thoughtful expression grazed his brow and made Cassie wonder if he might have a heart after all.

Liz opened her eyes and tried to hide the frown. “I’ll be better, Cassie Cakes, I promise. I wish you hadn’t felt like you needed to hide your life from me.”

Stephen cleared his throat and interrupted. “Cassie, we need to get going.”

Perhaps she was wrong about his growing a heart.

The whirlwind of emotions from the past few days threatened to overwhelm, but Cassie stood and leaned down to kiss her sister. “I have to go. Annie’s napping, you should, too. I’ll be here in the morning to help if you want.”

“No. No, take the day off. Be with your husband.” She reached her hand to Stephen. “I’m Liz.”

“Stephen.”

It seemed so formal, Cassie wondered if Liz was too numb from everything happening to realize how pissed she should be about the elopement. Or maybe Cassie had just anticipated bigger emotion and felt let down. She couldn’t decide. It should be bigger, right? Or maybe Cassie was being selfish for wishing there had been a scene. Cassie kissed her one last time and squeezed her hand. She hated this.

“Let’s go.” Stephen took her hand.

Pulling away, she nodded and walked ahead of him out of the room.

He reached forward, his hand brushing hers in a second attempt to hold it, but she pulled it away. “Not right now,” she said. “I can’t.” Her words thickened at the end, but he didn’t seem to notice.

****

The drive from Liz’s was mostly silent. Stephen didn’t try to talk and Cassie didn’t pretend to listen. She thought they’d head home, seemed like the logical place to go but instead he took her to the office. “What am I doing here?” she asked, frustrated and in need of a couple of aspirin.

He turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. “It’s already too late for the attorney to meet you at the house. I had to push back the meeting, I thought we could take care of this here before taking off the rest of the day.”

“Fine.”

He got out of the car and before he could open her door, she opened it and let herself out. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “I can’t,” she said again.

His lips pursed, but he didn’t fight her. In the office he headed for the staircase. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“The stairs, they’re better for you.”

Ahh, she remembered. And it struck her as funny. “You’re such a liar, Stephen. Are you still scared of elevators?”

“Sands men do not get scared. I have a healthy respect for gravity and a lack of faith in two tiny wires holding a large metal box suspended in the air for indefinite periods of time.”

This time she reached out and took his hand. “C’mon. I’ll protect you.”

Stephen hesitated, then followed. “For the sake of our image.”

She laughed. They stepped in and she pressed the button for the fourth floor. “See, nothing to worry about.”

The elevator groaned and jumped as it moved. And Stephen startled. Laughing, Cassie held his hand tighter. “It’s okay, I promise it is. They always do that.”

His teeth seemed gritted together. No good. The restaurant at the Travis Building was on the eleventh floor. Cassie would not be marching up eleven flights of stairs wearing her new heels and dress. She slid her arm around Stephen’s middle and held him tight. “You okay?”

He looked at her and his eyes darkened. He didn’t speak as he brushed his finger along her cheek. “I’m doing better,” he whispered.

The elevator jolted and Cassie tightened her grip. He felt warm and solid in her arms. She could almost hear his heartbeat and wanted to lean her head on him more than she could admit.

He felt solid. And nice.

A big part of her missed this Stephen. Not the scared of elevators part, but the warm under her touch, soft against her cheek part.

The bell dinged. “We’re here.”

The doors opened but Stephen pressed the button to close them. Cassie tried to pull back, but he held her closer. “This is nice, don’t you think? No fighting, no anger. Just you and me, cozy in a tight space.”

The last time they’d been in an elevator like this together had been their wedding night. And she seemed to remember from the slight smile that formed on her lips. Leaning in, Stephen caressed her chin as he lifted her face to his. Here, just for now, he could forgive her. They could kiss and pretend as if time hadn’t passed. As if her life wasn’t unpredictably complicated, as if he didn’t want to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.

He leaned forward and captured her bottom lip in his. Their noses touched and he leaned in for a deeper kiss. Her lips parted and his arms snaked around her, the soft flowery scent of her perfume tickled as it rose from her warm skin. He cupped her bottom and threaded his other hand through the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Stephen,” she breathed his name in a soft whisper, a past promise of love and devotion.

Her hands pressed against his chest, undid a button, then pushed beneath his shirt. She grazed his nipple and sent a shock of electricity coursing through his body. Any reservation he may have had about how his primal being felt for Cassie slipped away. Their tongues danced and swirled, heat radiated from their bodies. He reached down and cupped her breast, the fabric of her shirt bunching beneath his palm. His thumb stroked the pebbly nub of her nipple and he ached to suck her into his mouth. Instead, he hitched her leg up over his hip and pressed her against the wall of the elevator.

She groaned in response. Her fingers worked harder to undo his buttons and he reached down to pull her shirt free. The elevator dinged.

They flew apart as it jolted and moved. “Damn,” Stephen whispered. “Cassie.”

She wouldn’t look at him. Instead she tucked her shirt in and did her best to straighten her tousled hair. Lipstick smeared beyond repair, she instead did her best to wipe it off completely.

Her well-kissed face made him horny as hell. Leisurely he re-buttoned his shirt and straightened his tie. Cassie made Stephen feel virile and he wanted like hell to press the red emergency stop button and make love to her right against the wall of the elevator. Just like in Vegas. Instead, he moved further away as the door opened. Gayle stood at the entrance.

“Mr. Sands,” she said with surprise sounding in her voice. “I just went down to check on you.”

Her eyes traveled to Cassie and settled into a contemptuous glare.

“Gayle, is Mr. Bell here?”

She turned back to him and nodded. “Waiting in the office. I saw your car in the parking lot and got concerned when you didn’t come in. I see you’re doing just fine.”

He nodded as he stepped through the doors. “Cassie, are you coming?”

The guilty look on her face and bright red of her cheeks was endearing. She looked like a child caught sneaking a cookie. She reminded him a bit of the little girl he’d held earlier when he’d caught her trying to bury her apple juice in one of his potted plants. He’d asked what she was doing and she told him trying to grow a tree. He’d loved her instantly.

With surprise, he realized he felt the same for Cassie.

He’d loved her instantly. After what she’d put him through that feeling should have faded. But it hadn’t. Not enough. The pain she caused made a large part of him desire nothing more than to give it back ten-fold. An eye for an eye, heart for a heart.

He just wondered what that might do to him in the process.

“Mr. Bell.” He greeted the short, stout man waiting in his lobby. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice.” He wore tan slacks hitched in place with a brown belt and overly large belt buckle. His long sleeve white shirt tucked in over his rotund belly and a cowboy hat filled his hands. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Sands. This must be the Missus.”