The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife (4 page)

Charles, not Stephen. Only, Liz would have no way of knowing, and Cassie was nowhere near the point of being able to tell her the truth, even though lying to her sister wasn’t something she’d ever be proud of. “I did what you said, Lizzie. I told him I should be the exclusive baker for all of Sands Enterprises and after Stephen tasted my samples, he agreed.” A glance in the rearview mirror at her swollen lips and the quick reminder of what he had tasted made Cassie flush with shame.

“You’ll be here today?”

The CPS appointment. Child Protection Services. They were coming to evaluate Annie’s home life and decide whether a group home was necessary. “I will, Liz. But I won’t be able to stay. I’ve got something I need to tell you when I see you. But I want to make sure we’ve got everything squared away first. The case worker, she said this will fix it, right?”

Liz coughed to cover up an obvious tantrum in the background. Glass broke and something crashed against the wall. “That’s what she said.”

The defeat in her voice reminded Cassie of how little they’d come to believe things would work out. Over the years Annie only gotten worse. Not afforded the therapies recommended by her pediatrician, and not qualifying for financial aid to get her into programs had left Annie with no further aid than what was offered by public school. Which had proven to be no aid at all. And at eleven, she was violent and destructive in ways no one could have anticipated.

“Liz, I’m on my way. Don’t talk about anything until I get there, okay?”

“We won’t. Are you okay? You don’t sound great. You should be proud.”

“You sound like you’ve got your hands full. I’ll let you go.”

Another crash echoed. “Okay. We’ll talk soon.”

Cassie clicked the phone shut. She’d have to find a way to protect her sister from all this. It was too much dealing with Annie already.

Cassie wiped sudden moisture away from her eyes and glanced into the visor mirror to make sure she didn’t look as awful as she felt. Not great, but at least she could pass.

She backed out of the parking spot and straight into another car. The impact of the collision jolted her in the seat.

She hadn’t looked. Hadn’t thought to. At least the airbag didn’t deploy. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she got out of the car to see what kind of damage she’d caused.

A tall, good-looking man got out of the car she’d hit. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” she said. “Are you?”

He stepped around the front of his car. “I’m fine. I didn’t see you backing out, I’m sorry. This is completely my fault.”

She felt flustered. She’d expected anger, not apology. “No, I’m sorry. I was on my way to see my sister and didn’t look.”

A smile flashed across his face. “Listen. I have great insurance, why don’t we just call it my fault and then you can go.”

Probably the nicest thing she’d heard all day. “Thank you.”

“Just give me your name and number and we’ll get this squared away.”

“Cassie E—” She stopped. “Cassie Sands. I can give you my cell.”

He wrote down her information and put out his hand. “I’m Jordan Giles. Listen, I know this is forward, but would you like to go out for drinks sometime? Maybe catch dinner?”

“Extremely forward.”

He flushed. “No, listen, I’m not usually like that. You’re just, well,” he stammered a little and squared his shoulders. “Truth be told, I never act that forward. Never go to bars or anything. In fact, most of the women I meet are married. I own a flower shop. I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

Taking pity, she interrupted him. “I’m sorry, Jordan.” He looked so nice. He acted so nice. Nothing like Stephen. “I’m not the exception, I’m married.”

His eyes searched her left hand for a ring she’d yet to put back on. “I didn’t realize.” He glanced up to the building.
Sands Enterprises Acquisitions and Mergers
emblazoned boldly across the front. “Your husband is a lucky man,” he said, his voice faltering, a slightly dejected scowl replacing where the smile had just been.

She flitted a smile, hoping he didn’t feel too bad. One day too late, she thought bitterly. One day and she might have gotten to know this man. Instead she’d have to play wife to a man so intolerable, so cruel that she felt nothing but anger and bitterness in his presence.

“My husband would be jealous if he saw you here with me,” she finished meekly. “Thank you for the insurance information, I’ve got to get going.” Pangs of regret caressed cruelly through her.

“I would be just as jealous,” he said, finally. His fingertips touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Sands.”

At least the day can’t get worse, she thought as she got back into her car.

Chapter Three

This day couldn’t get much better, Stephen realized as he finished up the appointment with his three o’clock. Simpkins Limited had agreed to sell…for a generous sum, of course, and now in a few minutes Stephen would meet with Jordan Giles and buy Giles out as well.

Wonderful, wonderful day. First Cassie, now this.

“I won’t sell,” Jordan Giles said a few minutes later as he came into the office.

It’d taken two years to line up this deal. Giles was the last hold-out. Stephen had to treat the man with kid gloves or everything he’d accomplished could go to the wayside. And for what? A guy who owned a flower shop in the middle of an industrial sector? Sure, it’d become industrial long after Giles moved in, but that building was the key to Stephen re-developing the entire area.

No, not him. He only had to acquire it. But if he wanted to finish the deal, he needed everyone on board.

And that included the flower shop owner.

“I’ve thought about your offer,” Giles continued, “but I don’t want to sell. I’m happy in that location. In fact, since the other businesses started moving out, my business has boomed.”

“How is that?” Stephen asked, wary of the response, as he sat behind his desk. “I imagine you’re getting rather lonely down there in that part of town.”

Giles took the seat across from his. “Just the opposite. I’ve lost the industrial noise. The pollution. My parking has never been better. I’ve added two more trucks to my deliveries and expanded to online sales. I should thank you.”

It had been such a nice day. Not initially, but certainly toward the end. “Mr. Giles. I realize you think holding out might get you more money, but it won’t. This is the top offer. The next step will be to take you to court and try to convince a judge you should sell. And I don’t think you can afford that.”

“Can you?”

Stephen smiled. “I can tie you up in court dates for so long that your grandchildren will still be paying the attorney fees. Do you really want to go down this road?”

He stood. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Sands, but I can see we’re not going to find a middle ground here. Why don’t you let me take my chances, and you can take yours. I can see the publicity now.
Sands Enterprises acquires Giles Gardens in hostile bid
. Nice publicity. Should play well into the wholesome image of the Sands family name, don’t you think?”

No, Stephen didn’t think. In fact, if he weren’t so invested in this project, he’d tank the whole thing. Sure, it’d gone well at first, but these final hold-outs were cutting into his bottom line. Deeply. And if Jordan Giles did plan to rake the family name through the mud, this project may cost more than his monetary investment. He needed to talk to his brothers before he moved forward.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Giles. I will be in contact with you.”

The man smiled. “You have a nice day, too, Mr. Sands. And please, tell your wife it was nice running into her today.”

In a second, Stephen stood over the man. “What the hell does that mean?” He didn’t tower over him, but the few inches gave him an advantage. Giles had short blondish hair, brown eyes and at least five years on Stephen. A statement like that could be taken very wrongly.

Jordan Giles did not back down. “She’s a lovely woman, Mr. Sands. I love her in that tight green skirt. You’re a lucky man.” He turned toward the door. “Luck doesn’t hold out forever. You are not getting my business. Please. Tell Cassie I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he left.

Blood boiling, Stephen called Gayle into his office. “Find out everything you can on Jordan Giles and find out what contact he’s had with my wife.”

Gayle’s eyebrow quirked. He’d told her briefly what was happening, but not disclosed everything. “Is everything okay?”

“Please cancel the rest of my appointments for today. I need to take a meeting with my brothers. No, everything is not okay.”

She turned to leave.

“And Gayle? Please be discreet with the information you find.”

She nodded, seeming to know without question exactly whom she should be discreet around.

Not that he expected her to go back to his father, but their relationship over the years had always been an enigma and he didn’t want things to go south now. Gayle had never betrayed him, but she’d had a strong connection to his father in the past. Stephen had even suspected an affair between the two at one point. Charles Sands would not be pleased with Stephen’s plan for revenge but Stephen felt he was too close to risk his father killing the plan now.

He shut the office door behind her and picked up the phone. Quickly, he left messages for all three of his brothers.

Men like Giles were weak at their core. Sure, he’d proven a stronger adversary than originally imagined, but men like that only seemed strong on the surface. Everyone had a price. He would find out what Jordan Giles wanted and he would find his price.

First, he had to find out what kind of relationship the man had with Cassie. Was she playing him? Was this part of her own revenge for what had happened? It didn’t seem likely, but nothing with Cassie happened the way he expected.

****

Cassie packed light: two suitcases, several changes of clothes, some personal items. She wasn’t certain how things would play out at Stephen’s house and didn’t know what or how much to pack. Probably something she should have asked at the office. He’d made it clear he intended her to stay with him, but for how long and to what extent? Overnight? Long enough for word to get out? Surely he didn’t truly expect her to live with him as his wife. No matter what he said in the heat of the moment, the idea itself was absurd.

Gayle had left the address on her phone sometime while she’d been at Liz’s. Not the address Cassie expected. When she’d been to Stephen’s place in the past, it was the top floor of a shared house near Brooklyn Ave. A real artsy building, they actually had a painting center on the bottom floor. It was walking distance to some of the trendiest restaurants in Fort Worth and it was her time spent with him there that inspired some of the more original creations at her bakery.

Now, it looked like he lived in a house in the Fairlawn district.

Cassie knew the area.

She’d made the cake for a bridezilla in that area earlier in the year. The event was attended by Fort Worth’s royalty, the wealthiest and snootiest of Cow Town. Looking back, she was surprised she hadn’t run into Stephen then.

Though, he had defended the area when she disparaged it. One of the many mysteries of her life with Stephen was why he would pretend to live in a tiny loft. Not that she was into big and flashy, but she’d have rather known the real him. What, she wondered, was really him?

The type of life Cassie imagined did not take place in a 10,000 square-foot home. She had no need for landscaped lawns and tennis courts. Nor did she desire the isolation that came from living like that.

Then again, isolation from Stephen might not be such a bad thing.

Turning, she pulled up to a guarded gate. “One-hundred White Carriage Court.”

“Name?” The man was large, probably ex-military. He wore a gun on his hip and a grim expression.

“Cassie Sands. They should be expecting me.”

He glanced down his list, then buzzed her through.

Who lived like this? On either side, the street sat lined with gorgeous, opulent houses. Old-fashioned light poles, perfectly manicured front lawns. Houses that belonged to people with too much money and not enough sense.

Cassie couldn’t hide her disgust.

Not that she didn’t like nice things. No, she liked nice things as well as the next person, but really. Really? She passed a house on the right with a six-car attached garage. The house towered three stories high, had what she knew to be an imported three-tier French fountain and a long curved driveway circled in perfectly manicured topiaries and marble statues. She’d studied some interior design in college. That place would have been her professor’s wet dream.

She kept her eyes open for White Carriage Court.

The deeper in she drove, the more bucolic the surroundings. After a few minutes she spotted a house so obnoxious, so tediously large that Cassie had a sinking feeling she knew exactly where Stephen lived. As she drove closer, her feeling was confirmed.

One-hundred White Carriage Court had its own fence and an intercom and camera outside the gate.

After she was buzzed in, she drove through a winding thicket of crape myrtle and ash trees and over a small hill before pulling in front of the house.

She slammed the door of her Civic and her shoulders drooped.

Welcome to hell, she thought.

At least it had pretty roses. Gathering her suitcases and purse, she walked to the front door and gave it a quick rap.

“Mrs. Sands?”

A rail-thin woman, who looked to be in her mid-forties, answered. Her cropped hair hung loose over her ears, a tiny mole sat on her right cheek just below her eye. She wore a tidy uniform with a button-up navy vest over a clean pressed shirt. Her face was plain other than the mole, and her expression mostly blank, except for the light behind her eyes. It was unreadable. Mirth or possibly disgust, it was impossible to tell and Cassie couldn’t ask this stranger how much she knew of her new arrangement. “Yes. You must be Abigail?”

“Yes, ma’am. May I take your bags?”

Cassie shook her head. “I can carry them myself. Thank you though.”