Page 52 of Beg for You

I was his golden ticket.

John shook Spencer’s hand then his gaze dropped to me, to Spencer’s fingers curled around my hip. “Cassandra, nice to see you again.”

I smiled politely. “You, too, John. It’s been far too long.”

Spencer cut in with a low chuckle. “That would be my fault. I’m afraid I’ve been occupying most of Cassy’s time, haven’t I, darling?”

I jolted in shock at his lie and inwardly winced. He’d never called me Cassy before, and I hated it coming from him now. I never thought I’d ever want anyone else to call me that again after Chris died, but when Cal had it had felt right, because Cal saw me, the real me. The Cassy that only my brother knew.

Spencer knew nothing about me.

I’d obviously taken too long to reply because Spencer gave me another squeeze, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to leave a bruise as he pressed his cold, moist lips to my temple.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

I had no choice but to roll with his nightmarish role-playing or make a scene and make all this even worse than it already was. “Ah, yes, you have.”

“I had no idea. How long have you been seeing each other?” John asked me.

“A few months,” Spencer said, butting in. “When you’ve met your match, you just know.”

John looked across the room to his wife and warmth filled his eyes. “That you do.”

“Just between us,” Spencer said, “a rather happy announcement might be coming in the very near future.”

I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice. I felt numb.

“Well,” John said. “That is good news.” John shook Spencer’s hand. “Let’s get together for lunch soon, son.”

“I’d like that very much, sir,” Spencer said, a breathless note to his voice.

As John walked away, Spencer turned to me, eyes bright. He was looking at me like I was a goose and had just laid my first golden egg.

The night got progressively worse. We made the rounds, and Spencer made sure everyone in the room thought we were an item. Every time I faltered or resisted, he dug his fingers into my hip. I knew without doubt I had a bruise there, and I couldn’t stop my wince when he did it again.

The person we were talking to looked at me with concern. “These shoes,” I said lightheartedly. “They may be pretty, but they’re not made for all this walking about.”

The men chuckled, indulging the silly, flighty female, and carried on talking.

I needed to get the hell out of there. My father had avoided me all night, watching us from afar and doing nothing to prevent the nightmare unfolding. My nightmare.

“Will you excuse me, gentlemen?” I said. “I’ve just seen someone I need to talk to.”

“Hurry back, darling,” Spencer said, planting another sloppy kiss on my cheek.

I forced a smile then spun and walked calmly through the crowd of people toward the other side of the room. As soon as I was sure I was out of Spencer’s sight, I rushed toward the exit. I couldn’t stand another moment at his side or having his grasping hands on me.

I was barely holding it together. God, I was suffocating. How could my father do this to me? How? I shoved through the main doors of the hotel and out onto the street, sucking in a deep breath, desperately trying to calm myself down.

My throat started to burn suddenly, from suppressing my anger, the helplessness that I’d been biting back, burying deep for weeks, from holding in a primal scream that felt like it could crack the ground beneath me if I let it loose.

“Cassandra!” Spencer rushed out after me. “Where are you going?”

He tried to grab my elbow, but I pulled out of his hold. “I need to leave.”

“I’d like you to stay,” he said, voice hard, moving closer. I stepped back until I was pressed against the front of the building.

“I’m not your wife, Spencer, not yet. You don’t get to tell me what the hell to do.”