CHAPTER SEVEN

Jade

I should have known Cas would take it too far.

No sooner are the words out of my mouth does he sweep my feet out from under me, carrying me over the threshold into his suite like we’ve already traded vows.

He has a ring on my finger by dusk, the setting sun our rippling red-gold backdrop as we stand in the living room. The furniture has been moved by the guys. Cas called in his friends, Nolan and Isaiah.

I have to admit, things only got real when the three men stood together, a trio of muscled, handsome men filling out tailored, pricey tuxedos. Not only am I marrying Casimiro Felix, I’m doing in front of his friends—my former bosses—as our witnesses. And my version of a wedding dress is a simple white cotton dress, the sweetheart neckline and hem fringed in light blue lace.

It’s the best I can do on such short notice. Cas pulled his fancy suit out of his closet; I had to pull my dress from the suitcase Nolan and his security guards grabbed for me. Cas had them head to my place to pack me up for the duration of this nuptial ruse.

I’m still in awe at having agreed to do it. Wishing I had more time to digest the gravity of my decision, but seeing no pause button to push, I faced the consequences head-on…with only the slightest quiver in my knees.

The officiant directs us, pausing for our vows. Cas reminds her that we’re good with the regular spiel. We don’t actually have vows. Though, in hindsight, I realize it’s for the best. It’s a fake marriage, and we know nothing about each other. Having sex with him doesn’t mean I have a clue about what experiences chipped and honed Cas into the man standing before me, fitting a round diamond solitaire ring on my finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Cas says, steady and sure of himself, of this adventure he’s choosing to undergo with me.

My hands quake as I slide on Cas’s ring, repeating the standard-fare vows. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The officiant beams at us, inciting more nerves from me. I want to tell her it’s a sham. But then I catch the anxious twist to Cas’s smile, his hands clasped in mine, big, calloused, and clammy. He’s scared too. Man won’t admit it ever, but he’s not certain of this either.

Oddly, it silences the panic alarm in my mind.

“If no one here protests, you may now share your first kiss as a wedded couple.” The officiant’s cue dims from focus. The whole world screeches to a stop for me. It’s Cas and me, and a relentless fog of unknowns from here.

Cas hauls me in closer, his hands framing my waist. “Mrs. Felix,” he whispers, his gaze on my mouth. It grows warm in the anticipation of our kiss. And Cas doesn’t disappoint. He traps me, his lips brushing mine softly.

I grip his big, strong arms, needing to steady myself. It’s been too long, and his lips mold to mine, like they belong there.

Cas deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth, a gentle request for entry. I grant him access, and he flips the script, growling as he scours my mouth, dominates me. The kiss leaves me weak-kneed and…well, needy.

Readying to tear off my flimsy dress, free his cock, and slip my sticky panties aside to bounce on his steely shaft, I moan into his mouth to let him know. My whole body is full of Cas, and I lean into him when he lifts his head. My lips throb, my heart in my throat, and my nails embedding deeper into the sleeves of Cas’s polished tux.

I’m marring the fine Italian wool in my desperation to get at this man. Cas frees himself gently, his smile relaxed, easy. Like he hadn’t kissed me passionately. Try as he might, he can’t hide his body’s reaction. I press my belly harder into his bulging erection. Cas’s packing, and it’s all for me.

“Save some for the honeymoon, you two,” Nolan teases, reminding me of where we are and who’s witnessed our hot kiss. The officiant is gone, her duty to wed us and send off our paperwork to legalize our marriage certificate done, but Cas’s friends remain with us.

Nolan winks, his grin widening. “Makes me want to race home to my wife.”

“Glad we could be a source of inspiration.” Cas presses me to his side, his hand placed in a possessive hold on my hip. He gives me a squeeze, and I peer up. His eyes rove over my face, before his brows pucker and his mouth curls down at the corners. Whatever mirth he reserved for Nolan’s comment is gone.

Not wanting to give him cold feet now, I settle my palm over his toned stomach, hoping to wordlessly communicate calm into him.

“Let’s cut the cake then.” Nolan claps, gaining our attention. Glad for the distraction, I move with Cas. He shadows me into the kitchen.

Nolan flips open the cake box. He shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “I stopped by the grocer’s. The best I could do in such short notice.” The cake is chocolate, the bright red spelling out Happy Wedding.

“It’s perfect,” I say, touched by Nolan’s gesture.

Isaiah isn’t all smiles though. He catches my eye, and he narrows his gaze a fraction. His attention flickers to the phone in his hand before I can squirm too long in his obvious disapproval. “Cas, I’m headed out. Walk me out?”

Cas leaves with Isaiah.

I catch Nolan staring at me, a birthday-themed plastic plate in his hand. “Don’t worry too much about him. Isaiah isn’t much of a social guy.” Nolan’s words are meant to comfort me. I’m sorry they don’t.

Still, for his sake, I smile brightly and grab a glass of bubbly he’s poured for us. “Cheers,” I say, clinking his glass.

Cas returns, his shoulders tense and riding up to his ears, and his fingers massaging the knuckles of his other hand. We share a glance, and he relaxes his muscles and drops his hands.

Nolan breaks the silence. “I’ll be heading out as well. Last-minute work stuff, and the wifey wants me to run for milk. Kids and their sugary breakfast cereals.” He is rolling his eyes, but his grin is dopey and he’s obviously silly in love with his family.

“Congrats again, you two. I can feel the strong chemistry here.” He laughs and hugs me quickly, slapping Cas’s shoulder. “No need to walk me out, man. Treat your girl.”

As soon as Nolan leaves with his piece of cake, the easygoing cheer exits stage left.

Cas unbuttons his suit jacket and loosens his tie.

“Cake?” I offer.

He shakes his head, steering for the wet bar. He has a shot of vodka, and then another. Only then does he face me. Nudging his chin toward the bedroom, he says, “You go ahead and get some sleep. I have some work to do.”

Setting the plate down, I stare hard at Cas. “Is something wrong?”

Cas cocks his head. “Why would anything be wrong?”

I frown. It can’t bode well if he means to deflect me by lazily dodging my questions with questions of his own. Tuckered out from the day’s events, and prickling with anxiety again about my hasty decision to wed Cas, I run with his suggestion.

Sliding the bedroom doors closed, I stare at the solid, darkly lacquered wood, and press my palm against its cool smooth surface. Cas doesn’t rip open the doors though, and I’m left to force my feet from the bedroom’s entrance.

The California-sized king bed sits on a dais. I take the two steps up and crawl over the silk duvet. I have enough energy to slip off my flats. I’m under the covers, fully dressed, too weary to dig around my suitcase and change into my PJs.

Despite the chaotic state of my mind, I fall asleep. I know this when I startle awake, sitting upright. Someone’s knocking on the bedroom door. I’m thinking Cas wants to ensure I’m decent in here. But he doesn’t answer my calls to enter.

I have no clue what time it is. Cas keeps his bedroom dark, the shutters blocking out any natural light. Scrambling free of the bed covers, I smooth a hand over my hair and wipe any trails of drool from my mouth as I pad barefoot to answer the next rat-tat-tat.

It’s not Cas on the other side.

“Miss Jade Dunn?” this woman asks. She has her black hair tied back in a bun, away from her makeup-free face, and her polo shirt has the hotel’s logo emblazoned on it. Her nametag tells me she’s Irene, a masseuse. “I’m here for your massage.”

“Massage?” I repeat, confused.

Peeking around her, I note the living area and kitchen are empty of Cas’s presence. The room is much lighter…as if I’d slept through to the morning. My first concern is Cas though. “Where’s Cas—Mr. Felix?”

“Mr. Felix has stepped out, miss. He sent me up with your complimentary one-hour massage.”

“Oh,” is all I manage, hurt by the announcement. Recovering, I give her a smile. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little past ten, miss.”

“A.m.?”

She nods. “Yes, it’s morning.” She gestures to the massage table she’s set up in the living room. “Would you like your massage now, or do I return when it’s more convenient for you?”

So, Cas couldn’t stay with me, but he brought up a masseuse? I glance back to study the bed, realizing his side remains unrumpled and untouched. He never slept with me last night, and I’d been dead to the world, unaware of how far Cas kept me out of arm’s reach until now. Why marry me then, if he can’t stand to lie beside me?

I hold up a finger. “Can you give me a moment? I need to make a quick call first.”

Retreating to the bedroom door, I zip to fetch my purse off the top of my suitcase. My phone is filled with messages from friends, concerned because they’re used to my speedy replies. I send off reassuring texts first, warding off their frantic calls to police on a fruitless search for me.

It’s my great-uncle and aunt’s text that has me stammering. He must have had his son message me. They’re only asking after my health; I haven’t messaged them in a few days, and they’re accustomed to my more frequent reports.

After giving it quick thought, I send a message that doesn’t fill them in on my marital status update. This thing with Cas isn’t going to last long. I won’t be Mrs. Felix forever. No point in dragging my only real family into this.

Cas is a phase—one that’s keeping me alive right now.

Swallowing hard, I call Cas. After he fired me, I hadn’t bothered to delete his number from my phone.

He picks up on the first ring. “Jade.”

“You have my number still.” I toy with my dress’s lacy hem. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the building, working. Why? Do you need me to come up?” His voice takes on an urgent note. It’s faint, but I sense it. He’s concerned. I can’t help wondering if it’s for me, or because of a deeper, irrational responsibility he feels he owes me.

“Uh, no. I just wanted to…thank you.” I breathe the last part out, swallowing around the ball of anxiety in my throat.

There’s a long pause on his end. I draw the phone from my ear, confirming the call hasn’t ended. A second later, Cas says, “You’re welcome. Call me if you need me.”

I cancel the call first, my finger swiping the screen. We talked all of two minutes and all it’s done is leave me with more questions, an achy need between my legs and a panging loneliness in my heart.

A knock at the door reminds me I have a massage waiting.

“Coming,” I say to Irene when I swing the doors open. “Let me freshen up and change.”

She smiles. “I’ll be here, miss.”

I’m out of the large ensuite in record speed, eager to work out the knots in my shoulders. Yesterday had been a rollercoaster of emotions culminating in my marriage. As a result, I have some serious tension riding my shoulders and stiffening my limbs.

“Lie here, face down,” Irene instructs. She helps me adjust myself on the portable padded massage table.

I tuck my arms under my head, getting comfortable while I wait for her to knead the stress out of me. She starts by slicking my shoulders and back with warm oil. I sigh soon as her hands dig in and loosen the knots between my shoulder blades. She’s in front of me, pushing her thumbs down my spine.

“You’ve got a lot of tightness in the mid-back,” she says.

“What does that mean?”

“Sometimes we carry our past with us, and it builds on itself in our body.” Irene pauses, leaving me hanging for a while before she adds, “Our emotional baggage might not feel real…until it keels you off balance one day.”

“You’re getting all that from my back?” I’m skeptical, but the more I turn over what she’s told me, the more I wonder if Irene has another calling other than being a massage therapist. A psychic, perhaps?

“I’ll be using hot stones now.” Irene has worked my body thoroughly by the time she announces the next phase of my hour-long massage. I’ll have to kiss Cas after this. He’s had Irene melt the annoyance I held for him when I woke to find he hadn’t slept beside me—his new wife—and on our very first night together.

Irene has the variously-sized stones lining my spine and my legs.

“I’ll be back,” she says. “Don’t move and upset the hot stones.”

I wait…and wait, and wait. Propping up on my elbows, I swing my glance over my shoulder.

Because the space is open, I can see Irene has quietly exited the living room and kitchen. Frowning at the open doors of the bedroom, I get up—in spite of her instructions not to overturn the stones—and go in search of her. First setting them in the tray she’d lifted them from, I steer for the bedroom.

“Irene?” I don’t see her in the bedroom, and I glance at the closed bathroom door. My hand on the doorknob, I press my ear to the door and catch the sound of running water.

Realizing she’s in there, I hurry back to the massage table. I try but fail to replace all the stones, hoping she doesn’t notice some are missing from their original spots on my body. I hear her footsteps, and I tense, my face as warm as the therapeutic stones working their magic over me.

I hear her footsteps coming towards me, but she doesn’t speak. “Irene?” I say when I feel her presence at my side. I jolt as her hands touch my shoulders, but I immediately relax into her kneading touch, preparing to fall back into a meditative mush state.

I’m thinking of how to thank Cas, and Irene’s hands move up to my neck. I picture my lips securing over the man who’s my husband, of my naked body riding over his, rocking us both into the blissful oblivion of countless orgasms. Irene presses harder, her fingers growing more aggressive.

By the time my eyes fly open, she’s full-on choking me.

I gasp and flail, my eyes probably bugging. She growls over me, grunting and straining, her hands closing over my windpipe tighter. I tear my hands up through the air, trying to reach her and failing. The bed rocks with my efforts. Then a light bulb goes off in my head and I sway faster; tipping the bed is my new goal.

Irene yelps when she loses her grip and careens with the bed, losing her balance. She shouldn’t have been leaning so close. We both go down in a loud crash.

I’m not pausing to catch my breath, my flight mode on overdrive. The overturned massage bed separating us, I scramble from her on my hands and knees, grabbing a hot stone to defend myself. I scream hoarsely, stopping short, and glancing back in horror. Irene’s nails have dragged over my calf, and they’ve drawn blood.

I force myself to keep moving. “Help!” I holler, coughing and managing to stand on my shaky legs.

Irene lunges at me, slamming me to the couch, her hands aiming for my throat again.

She has no clue I’m armed this go around. I raise my hand, palm the hot stone, and send a prayer heavenward. Slamming my hand down as hard as I can, I conk Irene over the side of her head. Her eyes go wide and then they slam shut, her body slackening.

I shove her off me, and she thuds onto the floor, moaning senselessly. She’s listless but alive, and I don’t stick around to wait for her to wake up. I hurry for the door and suddenly realize I’m only in my panties. I backtrack for the towel I’d dropped in my haste to escape her.

Running blindly down the hall to the elevator, I don’t make it far. Someone grabs me from behind and I close my eyes and scream and struggle, and flail and fight. Irene won’t kill me! She won’t!

“Jade! Easy!” Nolan’s face comes into view. He’s spun me around, revealing himself to be my captor. No, my savior. I hug him, desperately clinging to him.

“Don’t let her get me!” I cry.

“Who?!” Nolan peels me off, gripping my shoulders and looking over his. “Who’s after you? Are they in your room?” He has lost all the sweet, easygoing humor from last night’s hasty wedding ceremony. “Jade, stay here.”

“No!” I scream, struggling to cling to him. I need an anchor. I didn’t want him to leave me. Irene could get me out here—anybody could. So many people have tried to hurt me in less than twenty-four hours. I can’t believe it’s a horrible coincidence anymore. I’m living with a target on my back, and I’m scared as hell.

I hug Nolan, and he stands there, his downturned brows and mouth hanging heavy with his helplessness. Then he massages my back, drawing me closer.

“You’re all right now, Jade. No one’s going to hurt you.”

But they will. It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with him, but my sobs overtake me. It’s how Cas finds us in the hall, two security guards flanking him.

“What the hell is going on here?”