Point of Submission Read online

  Carlo recalled the image of Cassandra as he sped down Route 72, the cornfields a blur on either side of him. What was it about her that had intrigued him? The obvious answer was her beauty. The uniquely-stunning color of her hair, the way wisps of it framed her delicate face. Those aquamarine eyes that changed each time he looked into them: not only the color, but what they projected: boldness, innocence, allure. And he was quite convinced he had seen curiosity and a hint of arousal. Remembering this made him harden.

  But there was more. It was the contradictions he saw in her: the feisty attitude juxtaposed with the wariness, the confidence opposite the vulnerability.

  Most of all, it was the challenge. He'd known from the moment they met.

  Without taking his eyes off the road, Carlo reached for his iPhone and commanded Siri to send a text.

  There were three words: I found one.

  chapter three ~ Cassandra

  “So this guy...he was seriously hot?” Teal swirled the straw in her margarita glass and looked at Cassandra, her blue eyes round with expectation.

  “Yes.”

  “As in, fuckably hot?”

  “Jesus, is that all you think about? You know I'm not into that.”

  “Into what? Fucking?” Teal looked at Cassandra innocently as she took a sip of her drink.

  “Behave yourself. Guys in general.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you're gay? Cass, is this your way of coming OUT?” Leaning across the table to put a hand on her friend's arm, Teal lowered her voice. “In that case, there's this person in my Gender Studies class I'd like to hook you up with...”

  “Very funny. He was...intriguing.”

  “Is that another word for fuckable?”

  It was impossible to be pissed at Teal, even when she was relentless like this. Teal was adorable: petite, blonde, and delicate—almost waif-like, with captivating, cornflower-blue eyes that feigned innocence. Her close friends knew better. She loved sex, drinking, swearing, and the occasional cigar. And she was smart...pre-law smart. Cassandra had met her two years ago at Franklin Marshall in General Psych. The class was in a huge lecture hall with a couple hundred students. Cassandra had come in about ten minutes late. It had been raining, she'd gone to the wrong building first, and when she pulled open the heavy door to the hall, the door had groaned loudly. Three hundred pairs of eyes fell on her, watching with blank expressions as she entered, her wet flip-flops slapping noisily against the tile floor. Cassandra remembered cringing inwardly as she scanned the hall, looking for an empty seat. She'd wanted to curl up and die. And then this petite blonde girl had beckoned her, waving like they were old friends. Relieved, Cassandra had slid into the empty seat beside her, flashing her a grateful smile, and the rest, as they say, was history.

  She and Teal ended up rooming together for the spring semester and would have continued if Cassandra hadn't dropped out. But her mom had gotten very sick, and Cassandra was the only one to take care of her. Then the bank took the house, and Cassandra had to find her own place, which required that she work to pay for it. She hadn't been able to afford both rent and tuition, so she'd left college. She'd told herself it was just as well, really—she didn't know for sure what she wanted to do, anyway, and taking classes at Franklin Marshall was expensive as hell. She'd been fortunate to have received several academic scholarships and financial aid, which helped, but her grades had slipped during her mother's illness, and she lost the required academic standing to keep the scholarships.

  Cassandra missed big things about college, like the mental stimulation of the courses and challenging herself, and little things, like the camaraderie you felt as a college student when you and another classmate made eye contact during a particularly tough exam and exchanged a holy shit glance. But there wasn't any sense obsessing over it. She was lucky to have a job she loved at Windswept and a job she could tolerate at Tucker's, which paid for her cozy one-bedroom apartment. She had a good friend in Teal (someone who really got her), she was able to be around her first love (horses), and she didn't need anything else. And “anything” included anyone.

  “You're a fucking tease, Cass, you know that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I need details. I've had a dry spell lately, so this is all I've got.”

  Cassandra shook her head, laughing as she took a bite of her quesadilla. “A 'dry spell' for you translates into a few hours without sex.”

  Teal nodded thoughtfully. “That's about right. How long has it been for you, anyway?”

  “No comment.”

  “Since Dylan?”

  “No comment.”

  The waitress appeared with their second margaritas. Cassandra was grateful for the interruption. She loved Teal, but sometimes the girl pushed too hard. Probably the future attorney in her. But as far as Cassandra was concerned, Dylan was a closed subject.

  Sighing, Teal tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “Okay. I'll leave Dylan alone, but this mystery guy...tell me more.”

  “Honestly, there isn't much to tell.”

  Teal huffed indignantly. “You are such a pain in my ass.”

  “He came in looking hot wearing a white shirt, got snorted on by a horse and left wearing a not-so-white shirt. But still looking hot. End of story.”

  “I think it's interesting that you're admitting he's hot. That you noticed.”

  “I can look. I'm not dead, for Christ's sake. Just don't want to partake.”

  Teal munched thoughtfully on a tortilla chip. “I wonder what his deal is. I mean, just showing up randomly in a horse stable on his way home from work?”

  Cassandra shrugged. “He said he used to ride. Maybe the barn was a happy place for him and he needed that.”

  “I'm betting he got even happier when he saw your fine ass.”

  “Stop. Can we please talk about something else?”

  “Oh, all right. Fine.” Teal sipped at her drink as she scanned the restaurant. “I'll just scope out the place, see if there's someone I'd like to—” She clipped off her sentence and abruptly looked down at her plate. “Oh, shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “Coming in the door. Don't look. It's—fuck, what are the chances?”

  Being told not to look somewhere virtually pulled Cassandra's gaze to that exact spot. Greeted by the smiling hostess was someone she hadn't wanted to ever see again. Dylan.

  Her heart thumping loudly, Cassandra watched as her former boyfriend followed the hostess to his table across the room. By his side was a tall brunette wearing a clingy, red strapless dress, her hair falling to her shoulders in a shining ebony mane. She was beautiful and bubbly, and Cassandra instantly hated her, then hated herself for hating. What did it matter, at this point? She and Dylan had broken up over a year ago—his choice, not hers—and he was obviously free to do whatever the fuck he wanted—or whomever the fuck he wanted. She knew this, but there was still a part of her—the scarred part inside every girl, aching with the memories of broken promises—that wanted him to be alone and unhappy for the rest of his life. Or at least during his sexually-active years.

  “Just ignore that asshole. Think of a happy place, like inside Mystery Man's pants.”

  Cassandra grinned in spite of herself. Thank God for Teal, who knew just how to handle her. She could do this. She could keep her cool, her pride, her sanity—and her resolve. “My happy place is at Windswept. Or Target.”

  “Then I suggest you focus on that big red bullseye, because Dylan's heading over here.”

  “He's what?” A hot flush blazed in Cassandra's cheeks. What the Christ was he thinking? The only other time they'd seen each other was at a bar near campus, and that was a few months after splitting up. They'd made uneasy eye contact from across the room, and Cassandra had ended up leaving early.

  Teal leaned across the table, her blue eyes earnest as she spoke, her lips barely moving. “Stay calm. This could be a big break-through. Prove that you're over him—prove it to Dylan,
and prove it to yourself.”

  “Hey. Cassandra.”

  That voice. She willed herself to turn around, to look at his smooth, unblemished face and cool hazel eyes, the sandy brown hair neatly parted and combed...nothing had changed; he was still just as handsome as ever.

  His gaze was unflinching, his face bland as he addressed her again. “What's up?”

  This was what he wanted to ask her? Maybe she could recap the past fifteen months. Let's see...my stress level, my guard, the wall I've built around myself after you laid the foundation. After you laid others during our relationship. That's what was “up.”

  She arranged her face to look disinterested, hoping her emotions would soon follow. “Just having dinner with Teal.” Cassandra glanced quickly in the direction of Dylan's date, who was looking at them suspiciously.

  Dylan nodded, flashing a grin at Teal who smiled frostily and busied herself with her phone. He turned his attention back to Cassandra. “So how've you been?”

  “I've been good.”

  “You're looking good.”

  God damn, why did he have to go and do that? Did he really think she wanted to hear that--a compliment from his lying mouth? She found herself staring at it, wondering how many other girls he'd kissed since they were together—or even while they were together—and she was struck by the realization that she couldn't remember how his lips felt.

  Cassandra lifted her margarita glass and took a long sip. Dylan appeared to be waiting for a response. She'd give him one.

  “I don't think your date would appreciate you telling me that.”

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise. When his lips curled into a smile, Cassandra suddenly found him much less attractive. Shaking his head, he laughed—too forcefully to be genuine. “Just trying to make conversation. Guess I'll get back to my table. Have a good dinner.”

  She watched him walk away, aware of the fact that her tension was abating with each step he took.

  Teal reached across the table to lightly tap her on the hand. “Hey! You totally rocked that. Put him right in his place without flipping out.”

  Shrugging, Cassandra exhaled shakily. “I just want that part of my life to be over.”

  “It will be. It is. This was a big step. Proud of you, girl, for showing him that you are okay.”

  “Thanks. I guess I'm proud of me, too.” Cassandra felt something close to hope pooling in the hollow places Dylan had carved into her. Seeing him had been unexpected, but actually, it had turned out to be a positive thing. He'd asked her how she was. She had told him she was good—and she was getting closer to believing it.

  chapter four ~ Carlo

  It never occurred to Ingrid to refuse Carlo Leone the information he was looking for, even though it violated the privacy of one of her employees. First, he was the owner of Windswept Stable and her boss; second, she didn't particularly care for Cassandra; and third, she'd been wanting to get in Carlo's pants for the past five years. She would do just about anything to get in his favor—even if it meant bringing him closer to another woman. And from what Ingrid had witnessed, Cassandra was an amateur who didn't know how to handle a man like Carlo.

  They were sitting in her air-conditioned office, Ingrid at her desk in her jeans and red polo, Carlo in the leather chair across from her in his dress clothes. She gestured toward the small refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Water, vitamin water. Or Yuengling and IPA if you want something more potent.”

  “Very nice. I'll take an IPA.” Carlo watched as Ingrid bent down to open the fridge, making sure he had a good view of her ass. He grinned. Subtle, Ingrid was not. She was quite attractive, slender and toned with blonde hair cut crisply at her jawline in a sleek bob. High cheekbones, fair skin, features a bit too sharp for his liking, and light brown eyes that never seemed able to maintain eye contact. Hired by his mother, she had been manager of Windswept for the past ten years. She took excellent care of the horses and the business. He trusted her in that regard. And they understood each other.

  Ingrid handed Carlo his beer and took a bottled water for herself. She looked at him, bemused, as he cracked open the can.

  He flashed her an endearing grin. “So. She has a second job at Tucker's. Windswept employee for three months. What else can you tell me?”

  “Carlo, ohh, Carlo...are you seriously interested in this girl?”

  “A bit.”

  Ingrid sighed. “Cassandra has a few redeeming qualities. Prompt, hard-working. Clearly loves horses. Lives by herself in Elizabethtown. She's a private person, almost standoffish. Doesn't talk much about her personal life or her family. She did mention that her mother was dead. No siblings that I know of. We're not what you'd call close.”

  “Is she seeing anyone?”

  “I wouldn't know, or care.”

  Carlo chuckled. “Careful, Ingrid—your claws are showing.”

  “Like I said, she's standoffish. I don't have time to get all touchy-feely with her...as you apparently want to do.”

  “I didn't say anything like that. I'm just...interested, after meeting her here the other day.”

  “You haven't been to the stable in a long time. Funny that you just happened to run into her. Perhaps it's fate.”

  “Could be.”

  “I don't know as she's your type.”

  “And just what is my type, Ingrid?”

  She smiled slyly and picked up her water bottle, running her tongue suggestively around the opening and slipping the bottle just inside her mouth. In spite of himself, Carlo felt a growing erection. It had been a while.

  Ingrid got up from her chair, rounded the desk, and came to stand in front of him. She'd never been so bold with him before—but she sensed a chink in his ever-present armor. Taking the can of beer from his hand, she set it on her desk and leaned over him, putting one hand on each arm of his chair. Her polo shirt was open to reveal sun-kissed skin and deep cleavage.

  “Cassandra is quite young,” she said softly. “Why go after a girl, when you could have a woman instead?”

  Carlo took a deep breath. He had no doubt Ingrid would perform satisfactorily. But getting involved with her was too risky, partly because he knew she would want more. He would have to handle this delicately so as not to embarrass her.

  “You are very beautiful. And you and I are alike in many ways. But I wouldn't want to jeopardize the strong business relationship we've had by taking things to a personal level.”

  She regarded him for a few seconds, then took his face in her hands. He did not move as she leaned in. Automatically, he closed his eyes just as he felt her mouth on his. Her tongue slipped between his lips, and his cock swelled. He would let her have this kiss, but that was all. A few seconds more, and Ingrid sensed that it wasn't going any further. She pulled back, gave a bitter little laugh and returned to sit at her desk. “Of course. Always, business first.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  She waved a hand at him and sighed. “It would be much easier if you weren't so goddamned good-looking. But it's fine. And I do value our professional relationship. ”

  He grinned. “Thank you, Ingrid. My mother was very wise to hire you.”

  Her face softened. “You still miss her very much, don't you?” “Yes.”

  “Which is why you keep this place, even though we both know you don't need it.”

  “I do need it, in a way. It gives me some comfort knowing I'm caring for animals that my mother loved so much—most of whom were here when she was alive.”

  The conversation turned to leasing out horses and preparations for the September dressage show in Devon.

  “You should go this year, Carlo. It's always spectacular. And it would bring back some nice memories of Paolo.”

  “I'll think about it.” He checked his watch. “I have to get back to the office. Thanks for meeting with me. And for the beer.”

  “Of course. I'm all about keeping the boss happy.” />
  “I trust you won't say anything to Cassandra about this meeting? Or divulge any of my personal history. That's very important to me.”

  “I have always guarded your privacy, Carlo. And I will continue to do so.”

  “Thank you.” His face was a mixture of gratitude and relief.

  Coming out of the office, he almost bumped into a young woman who was looking down at her phone, texting. She looked up in alarm, then embarrassed pleasure, when she saw Carlo.

  Ingrid sighed with mock annoyance. “Meet my stepsister Sonya—and her phone. Sonya, this is Mr. Leone, owner of Windswept.”

  “Oh! It's nice to finally meet you. Ingrid's told me a lot about you.” She extended a hand, blushing.

  “I'm sure she has. Hopefully, it wasn't all bad.” Carlo shook Sonya's hand and did his usual lightning-quick assessment of her. She was a twenty-ish brunette with long, curly hair pulled back under a Phillies cap. Average height, pretty face, slightly upturned nose. She was bit too busty for Carlo's liking. He preferred breasts on the smaller side—as a wise Frenchman once said, any more than would fit in a champagne glass was a waste. Even with her clothed, and even in just one meeting, he could tell that Cassandra's breasts were just the type he liked. It struck him that he would so quickly revert back to thinking about Cassandra...he had only seen her once.

  But this was one of many things that would change.

  chapter five ~ Cassandra

  Tucker's Brew Pub was busier than usual tonight. A popular restaurant tucked away on south Main Street, they'd gotten slammed with two opposing teams from a men's softball league—big, beefy men with their names on the backs of their t-shirts and egos as loud and obnoxious as their voices. The beer was flowing and so was the bantering back and forth between the competitors, mostly good-natured but peppered with the occasional insulting jab. Cassandra was in a constant state of motion, shouldering heavy trays of appetizers and pitchers as she weaved her way through the restaurant. One of the wait staff had called in sick, which not only meant Cassandra had to work till close, but she'd have extra tables. At least the time would go quickly, and there would be more in tips. Ever the optimist, she thought wryly.