STRIPPED 2 (A Ferro Family Novel) (7 page)

J
on drives
into the city and parks in front of a store where half a dozen male forms sport the latest designer looks. I glance at the pizza shop next door and assume we’re headed in there. Jon races around to open my door as a valet waits to take the car. Jon holds out his hand and smiles down at me. I slip my palm into his, and he helps me out. The little sports car sits low to the ground and, since I’m wearing a sundress, it’s difficult to get out without flashing everyone on the sidewalk.

Seriously, the dichotomy between when to expose myself and when to keep it covered should have me acting like a crazy person by now. Maybe I crossed the line a long time ago, and it’s so far behind me I can no longer see it.

Jon’s thumb rubs the back of my hand, and he watches me for a moment. His blue eyes are flicking between our hands and my face. He’s wearing a sapphire-colored button-down shirt tucked into a pair of slim-fitting black pants. With his other hand, he tugs against the open collar at his neck. He clears his throat before saying, “I need to ask you something. I didn’t want to put any pressure on you, and things with my family are shit right now, but I have to—I need to be there for Pete. He’s getting married, and I’m a groomsman.”

I glance up at the tux shop again, and it dawns on me that he must need to run inside for a fitting or to pick something out. “Right. I nearly forgot. Peter seems like a nice guy. He obviously loves Sidney.”

“He does.” Jon’s eyes are on the side of my face. I drop his hand and take a step toward the window, studying the woven textures, pinstripes, and varying shades of gray. My wedding pops into my mind, unbidden, and I banish the thought before it fully materializes.

Jon steps up next to me. I glance down at the sidewalk and his shiny black shoes. He wanted to get dressed up today. Actually, I didn’t realize he planned to look so fancy. Feeling a little self-conscious, I was surprised when he handed me a dress bag and asked if I’d want to wear its contents. When I unzipped it to reveal the dress inside, I nearly cried. His gift is a perfect mix of past and present. Cut from seersucker fabric, the cotton sundress is ruched across the chest and bodice, with tiny rosebuds spilling across the skirt. A wide, feminine ruffle swishes from the hem just above my knee. Miniature daisies are embroidered on the straps and scattered along the neckline. He removed the tags, but I know it’s not from G&G, where everything is less than twenty bucks. The bag this dress arrived in probably cost more than that.

It’s so pretty and soft that it makes me feel something I haven’t experienced in a long time. Now, as I gaze into the store window, enjoying the sensation of the soft fabric caressing my thighs as I move, I feel the rest of it. It’s not only the appeal of looking ahead and hoping for the best, but it's also living in the moment without worry. It’s as if I stepped out of the shower and stayed clean. There’s no residue from my past clinging to me like old grime. The things I’ve done, the situations I’ve endured, they leave a haze that doesn’t scrub away. It lingers and grows.

Some people can’t endure it. They fall and never come up for air again.

I’ve been bobbing somewhere in the middle for a long time. Today I don’t feel like I’m bobbing, no more gasping for air before I sink again. I feel good, and I know why.

It’s Jon.

The way he treats me is refreshing. I’m not a skank, but I’m not the nun I used to be. To him, I’m Cassie. No strings, no labels, and no treating me like I might break. At the same time, he doesn’t belittle what’s happened to me, what I’ve experienced. It’s like he understands on some level. Maybe it’s empathy, but I suspect there’s more story there—something he’s not told me—an incident that happened a long time ago, changing him. There are moments in life that alter everything. I know. I feel like I’m standing in one now.

Jon slips his hands into his pockets, pushing back the cuffs on his shirt to reveal a chunky watch. It’s white and rose gold with exposed gears. I don’t recognize the brand. It’s French, something I’d never see, never mind own. It suits him. I glance up at his clean-shaven face, which is a rare sight to see. His usual grin is gone, and I feel the tension flowing from his body. He wants to say something but seems hesitant.

“What is it?” I turn toward him. “Your mother won’t keep you out. Peter won’t let that happen.” I guess at his concerns but miss the mark. I can tell by the way his lips part and then close again.

He glances at the shop window, then cuts his eyes back toward me. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t have a date. I never asked anyone. Someone from my past appeared, and I couldn’t think of anything else. Then more shit happened and the next thing I know, I’m standing with you outside the tux shop a few days before the wedding, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to ask you.” The corner of his mouth pulls up on one side as he speaks, and it sounds like he wants to laugh it off but can’t. Those bright blue eyes lock on mine. Vulnerability spreads across his beautiful face as he tucks his chin and finally asks, “Cassie, will you be my date?”

It’s sweet and incredibly unlike him to be anything but confident. I take his hand, lean in and peck his cheek. He could have said any other word, but he chose ‘date.’

“I’d love to go with you. I can discuss the weather with your mother. It’ll be awesome.” I joke about the sore spot and squeeze his hand.

Relief washes over his face, and he looks down at me. “You make everything awesome, Cass.”

A smile spreads across my face, and I wish he’d kiss me, but he doesn’t. He stands there, watching me in a way I can’t understand. It’s equal parts affection and distance. I wonder about kissing him again, but I can’t understand why he’s not touching me. He said he was interested in me, but he’s not acting like it. Old Jon would have been trying to talk me out of my panties from the first second. This man doesn’t do that. It’s like he’s going slow on purpose.

I need to stop over-thinking everything. My emotions have been shocked too many times, too close together. It’s like my heart took a flying leap onto the third rail and stayed there. It shorted out my ability to sort through everyday feelings, disconnecting and jumbling everything.

I take his hand again, wanting more of his tender touches. I weave our fingers together and enjoy the sensation of warm skin on skin. It’s okay to revel in it, to enjoy it at face value. For once, a person in my life doesn’t have an ulterior motive to be here, to want to know me. I can’t concoct one that would have him sleeping on the floor this long, dealing with a neurotic girl that runs hot and cold all the time. Nothing is worth the trouble I put him through, the pain I cause, and yet—when he looks at me like that from beneath those dark, thick lashes, I melt.

Does it matter why he’s here? Can’t I just enjoy the moment? That’s all life is, a series of moments scattering to the wind on a whim. At times, getting from dawn to dusk is hard enough. I can’t think ahead at all. I’m always running, even in my mind, racing through life trying not to feel anything anymore. I can’t take another heartache. I can’t fathom surviving another devastating loss. I should push him away, make him keep his distance.

It’s safer. It’s smarter.

But it doesn’t lead anywhere. This path dead-ends with me alone, forced into a cul-de-sac of regret.

“Cass?” Jon’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You’re thinking too much.”

“No, I’m not.” I smirk at him and duck my eyes to the side. “I’m just pondering.”

“All right. I’ll bite. What are you pondering, Miss Hale?”

I make a face. “You sound like Sean when you speak like that.”

“God knows we don’t want that!” He chuckles, tucking his arms into the crooks of his elbows and leaning his shoulder against the brick on the storefront next to the window. “Spill. Inquiring minds want to know.”

My fingers play with the flowing fabric of my skirt. I look down at the pavement, watching the ruffles wiggle as I swish the fabric while I speak. “Have you ever wondered what your life would be like—who you would have been—if a certain crappy event hadn't happened?”

I glance up at him in time to watch his face fall. He nods once.

“I do that a lot, and if I’m not careful, I get stuck there, wondering about things that will never happen. My life went down a different road I would have never taken. I mean, who wants to roll around naked in a cactus field for years?”

Jon smiles, tucks his chin, and lifts his eyes to mine. His guard is up, but he seems like he’s trying to fight it back down. Like he’s not sure where I’m going with this.

“It hurts. I’m covered in scars no one can see, but for once—without even trying—I feel normal. Standing in front of a shop in this dress, talking about your brother’s wedding,” I shrug my shoulders and let out a content sigh. “It’s something from the normal road. No cactus patches in sight. I’m not sure how I got here, but I’m glad I am, and I’m happy that it’s with you.”

T
hat confession makes
me want to rip my hands out of my pockets and throw my arms around her. I’d never let go, so I make fists and leave them there. Before I met Cassie, I thought I had no self-restraint. The truth is I never needed it. I took what I wanted, no waiting required. But it’s never been that way with Cassie. The game faded fast, and I’d do anything for her because I want to. The conquest lost its thrill when I started to care about her. The entire situation changed.

I changed.

Now I need to make my family accept it. They still see the old version of me, and I suspect they will for some time, but Cassie is part of my life. She’s not leaving and if they chase her off things won’t end well. I know myself, now. I know where I stand. Before this, I wasn’t willing to fight for much, but Cassie shifted my outlook on the world, and I won’t back down.

There’s always been a discrepancy that bothered me in Cassie’s story about the reporter. I figured she just didn’t want to admit to telling them everything, but now I’m not sure. In the past I accepted my family at face value, but not anymore. Sean is pissed at me and will do anything to get what he wants. He’s a clone of my mother and, from what I can tell, the two of them are working against each other, gearing up for World War III.

I never saw my father as a threat, but I'm no longer confident in that assumption either. The story in the paper included the mistresses, both that he had them and that mom allowed it, but the story skipped the part about me screwing my father’s women. I thought it would be there, but that part was missing. I always thought Cassie was holding that card, waiting to play it if she ever needed to. But it never happened.

I swallow hard and look at her. I’m way off my normal path, too, and for once I’m not staring at the scenery. I’m intently focused on what lies ahead and the woman standing in front of me.

“I love you, Cass. You have no idea how much.” I try not to smile at her with a full-on toothy grin because I’ll look like a fucking lunatic, but I want to. My entire body is vibrating with a glee I can’t act on.

She returns a shy giddy gaze. “I love you, too.” Her cheeks redden and she drops her lashes, hiding her eyes, and grinning at the street.

My chest is ready to burst. I’m normally an emotional vacuum—at least, I try to be—but Cassie has me strung high, and I don’t want to come down. Ever. I press my lips together and hold out my hand. “Pick out a tux with me, and then I have a surprise for you.”

She lifts a brow at me while placing her hand in mine. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to hang around with me all day and part of the evening.”

She pushes out that plump bottom lip. “Tonight too? But I wanted to see my other boyfriend after this.”

I can’t help it. I rip my hands out of my pockets and grab her, pulling her close. I blast her with my most charming smile. “Your other boyfriend doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. This surprise is that good. You’re going to love it.”

“That’s a lot of talk, Ferro. Are you sure it’ll live up to the hype?”

I press my head to hers and feel her little nose against mine. “All that and more.”

T
he tux shop
has my new Kiton ready, and Cassie nearly chokes when she hears the price. Her eyes are dinner-plate-sized, and she leans toward me, whispering, “How are you able to buy this?”

It’s a fifty thousand dollar custom-made tux. We’re at the flagship store on 54th Street in Manhattan for the final fitting before I can take the thing home. We’ve been standing near a small display of about ten jackets, each perfectly pressed and perched on thick wood hangers. The tags have no prices, and she finally asks about it.

I tell her, “When you’re in a place like this, money isn’t an issue. You’re here because you want the prestige that comes with the brand.”

I sound like an asshole, but money takes on a different feel when you have more than you could spend. Five grand feels like five bucks, so a fifty thousand dollar suit doesn’t make me blink.

Cassie looks like she’s ready to hurl. “Jon, they cut you off. I don’t understand. Did you buy this before that happened?”

“Not exactly. It was ordered, not paid for.” She turns greener. I smile over at her. “I’m glad you’re concerned about my welfare, but I’m not destitute. Besides, it’s for Pete’s wedding. I can’t show up wearing something off the rack and get shown up by the turkey vulture's tuxedo.” Crazy though it sounds, Sydney plans for that bird to waddle down the aisle with her. A smile creeps across my face as I imagine my mother's reaction.

“You’re not?” Cassie's voice snaps me back to the present. “I thought you were broke.”

I didn’t say anything about it because she works so hard and I didn’t want to come off sounding like an asshole. It’s difficult to fight preconceived notions, plus I’ve been a total dick so often that those perceptions aren’t unfounded.

I hold out my hand for her and she slips her palm into mine. We wander over to a set of leather club chairs in the center of the room. I think they were made in Naples along with the rest of the stuff in here. They’re a shade of green that matches Cassie’s worried pallor, and surrounded by dark wood walls. It’s a dude store. It smells manly. The chairs are supple and comfortable. The thick rug beneath my feet is hand woven and cost a fortune. I know because a similar one graced the floor of my room at the mansion. I haven’t been back there since the night I bought the club. Mom may have torched it in my absence.

Claiming to have no money in a place like this will spread rumors faster than anything. I lower my voice when I speak. “Cass, I’m fine. I had assets in my name. I lost the inheritance, but that’s it. I have other forms of income.”

She blinks at me. “You do?”

I laugh. “Yeah, what do you think I do all day?”

“Hang out at a strip club.”

I watch her, wondering what she really thinks of me. Gazing into those brown eyes, I can see her affection, but the money is an issue. She missed something, and I kind of hid it from her. I wonder if she’s going to be pissed. I might as well tell her. “The club is a novelty endeavor I took on the side. I have a few other businesses going, most of which began to thrive after I met you. There’s the private school in Jersey I already told you about. We’ve been using that as the flagship school, trying new ways of teaching, and experimenting with curriculums. Affluent families like that. There are three established so far, two more coming. That’s a large source of my income. I have some traditional financial investments—stocks, bonds and mutual funds I picked up over the years—along with some other ventures that maintain a decent return. I own a hotel on Madison Avenue, a string of vacation homes in the Hamptons, and some commercial property on Long Island I can sell off if I ever need to. I don’t need to, so I’ve been leasing it out for different events…” I trail off when I notice she’s gaping at me. “What’d I say to make you stare at me like that?”

Her jaw flops around like a fish, and she sputters, “You’ve been sleeping on my floor. You’ve been wearing cheap clothes. You made a big deal about buying Beth tape. I thought you were poor!”

The corners of my mouth lift. “I made a big deal about the tape because she wanted it so much. Plus, it was fourteen dollars a roll, and there was nothing on it. The silver duct tape is less than half that price with twice as much tape.”

Her jaw is still dangling open. I reach out, press my finger to her chin, and press it shut. She swats my hands away. “You have money?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“You’re not poor?”

“Far from it.”

“And you’ve been sleeping on my floor?”

“Yes.” I’m not sure what’s happening. She’s pissed or ready to cry. I can’t tell which one.

She starts to talk and stops, gets up, walks in a circle, and then comes back. Palms out she tries again and stumbles over her words. “I thought. You said. The club, and,” she tugs her hair and then leans over, places both hands on the arms of my chair and stops an inch from my face. “You sleep on the floor?”

It sounds like a question, and I admit I’m a little terrified. She’s an emotional whirlwind. I’m concerned about what’s going to come out when she can finally speak. “I do. You knew I was there, didn’t you?” I tease playfully, hoping for a smile.

Her bottom lip curves up in the center, down at the corners and her eyes fill with tears. Shit.

Her voice shakes when she spills her thoughts on me. “I thought you were broke. I thought you were sleeping at my place because you’d been disowned and had nowhere else to go. I thought you stayed on the floor and didn’t buy a mattress because you had no money. You stayed there so long.” Tears roll down her pale skin and drip off her cheeks as she realizes what I was doing—why I slept there night after night.

Her glassy eyes meet mine and hold. Her lips part as she blinks back tears. I don’t know what to do. I thought she knew, but it appears that she had no clue at all. Cassie thought I was penniless and needed a place to stay. She opened her door to me and shared what little she had. It’s clear she never saw this coming, but I don’t know how. I slept next to her, on her floor. There was a cat-scented couch a few feet away that would have been a lot more comfortable. I was there for her, and now she knows.

Cassie’s lips tug at the corners, twitch, and fall. It’s like she doesn’t know if she should laugh, cry, or scream at me. She’s nodding and pointing a finger at me when she speaks. “You stayed there for me? You slept like that for me? You could have left. You could have bought anything you wanted, but you didn’t.”

“I wanted to be there.”

She echoes me, shocked. “You wanted to be there?”

I pull her onto my lap and hold her against me. Cassie tips her head to the side and rests it against my shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, Cass. I thought it was what you needed. You wouldn’t talk to me about work, and I couldn’t make you stop.”

She straightens and looks down at me. “I thought we needed the money.”

I move my head a bit and catch her eye. “You insisted on working because of me? Cass, I own the club. Why’d you think I was broke? At the very least there was income from that.”

She waves me off. “That place was barely floating before you showed up. Then, you started giving paid days off and sick time. I thought you were hemorrhaging cash. You’re too nice to be a boss. I thought you'd lost your business sense when you purchased the club.”

I laugh. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. I kiss her forehead and squeeze her tight. “You pegged me perfectly with everything except the business aspect. I’ve always been about the sale, Cass. You should know that better than anyone. Once I figured out how to tie income to that ability, it was a like a golden carrot dangling in my face. I had to have it.”

“So, you’re still rich?”

“Yeah.”

“Like moderately wealthy?”

“Cassie, millionaires don’t shop here.”

“You’re a billionaire? Really?” She’s shocked, staring at me with her jaw dangling open.

“Yes. What’s the matter? Is that bad?”

She starts crying again and swats at her eyes. “A billionaire sleeps on my floor.”

“I love you, Cassie. I’d sleep on a bed of nails to be near you.”

She smiles at me through the tears, and I want to stay like this forever. In that moment, she sees me, all of me, and I fucking love it.