With the shrimp done and the water boiling, I tossed the pasta into the pot and began looking through his cabinets for some thyme and rosemary, the secrets to my own special spaghetti sauce. Rifling through shelves full of boxes of expired crackers and cereal, I saw a few bottles of what looked like spices all the way in the back of the cabinet. I stretched to reach them and heard a voice say behind me, “I doubt you’ll find anything there.”
Startled, I spun around and saw a woman standing in front of me across the center island. Tall with long jet black hair that shined like hair in shampoo commercials, she looked like a model, complete with bought and paid for boobs that even without a bra seemed to sit up perfectly near her collarbone. Her full lips shined with deep red lip gloss that I imagined never faded or feathered, and as I scanned her face for some flaw or imperfection, I saw nothing but perfectly applied makeup to skin I could only dream of having.
“You must be the girl in Cassian’s life now. I’m Rachel. Nice to meet you.”
She stuck her perfectly manicured hand out to shake mine and I shook hers, meekly apologizing for the shrimp remains that hung from my stubby nails. “I’m sorry. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Cassian didn’t tell you about me? Bad boy.” She practically purred when she spoke, but even her smoothness couldn’t make what she said easy for me to hear.
“I don’t understand. Who are you?” I asked a second time as I wiped my hands clean of shrimp guts.
“Rachel, his wife. Well, his estranged wife, but wife nonetheless. I can’t believe he didn’t mention me,” she said with a smile that I was sure was anything but friendly.
“His…his wife?” I stammered out, sick to my stomach after hearing the word wife four times in just seconds.
She flashed me an even broader smile as I listened to her repeat her explanation about her being his estranged wife, but it didn’t matter. He’d never even given me a hint he was married, separated or not. He wore no wedding band, and there was no indication on his ring finger that he hid a ring when he was around me.
Was it possible Cash had been married this whole time? How? No, I couldn’t believe it. A long line of women in his past? Yeah, I believed that. But married? The man I’d grown to love couldn’t be the kind of man who’d cheat on his wife and lead a double life.
Rachel’s description of how close she and Cash were floated in and out of my brain as I tried to understand what was going on. She mentioned something about them marrying young, but after that all her words started to run into one another. My hands began to tremble as the truth of what this woman was saying settled into my brain. Cash was married and he’d been married the entire time. Everything we were was based on a lie.
“Is that food I smell? I hope so because if this is a dream, I’m going to be really disappointed.”
I turned to see Cash standing in the doorway to his bedroom in just his boxer briefs and instantly knew everything Rachel had said was the truth. She looked at him like he was a possession of hers, her eyes sliding over his muscular torso like it was something she owned and appreciated.
She said something to him, but my heart pounding in my ears made it impossible for me to hear anything. I needed to get the hell out of there and away from him. As the water boiled over onto the stove behind me, I stumbled toward his bedroom, pushing past Cash to quickly get into my pants and leave. He tried to explain and held my arm to stop me, but I yanked it away from him and ran as fast as I could with my arms full of my things and still dressed in his shirt. I didn’t know where I was going or how I’d get there, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t stay and listen to his lies when the evidence of the truth stood right in front of me with perfect looks and a purring voice coming from that smiling mouth of hers.
What I’d always feared had come true. Cassian March and I were in different leagues, and even though for a short time it seemed like I could be the kind of woman he’d want, the reality was the kind of woman he should be with was standing in his kitchen in designer clothes and looking like a supermodel, likely eating the meal I’d prepared for him and me. Rachel belonged in that gorgeous condo with him, not me.
I heard him call my name as I ran down the hall, his voice tinged with fear. I pressed the down arrow like a madwoman, somehow convincing the elevator to come quickly enough that I could escape this place before I had to hear him try to explain again. The last I saw of him he was trying to stop the doors from closing and apologizing again, his blue eyes pleading along with his words, but it was no use.
Whatever we were had all been a lie.
Chapter Eighteen
Cassian
I raced down through the stairwell to catch up with Olivia, but she was gone by the time I made it to the main floor of my building. I’d run out of my condo without my phone, so I couldn’t even call her. Disgusted at how I’d fucked up, I rode the elevator back up to my place cursing my stupidity and found Rachel standing in the kitchen just where she’d been when she’d succeeded in ruining everything.
Pushing past her to turn off the stove before pasta and water boiled completely over, I looked at her and felt sick. “Why are you still here?”
“I hope I didn’t do something wrong there. I just came by to see how you were doing.”
I had no idea how she knew I was there with someone, but she knew. “Rachel, I work every Saturday night. There’s no reason for you to believe I’d be home, so why are you here?”
Her expression turned sheepish, and she pressed a smile onto her lips. “I just heard you were out with someone at the club last night and I wanted to know who she was. I never expected to find her here.”
“You’re lying. Get the fuck out, Rachel. I don’t want you here.”
I leaned against the counter and shook my head at how much I’d fucked everything up. Olivia had just told me she was worried about my past, and not twenty-four hours later, my past showed up acting like the possessive bitch she truly was.
“Cash, she seems nice. A little wholesome for your taste, but she certainly is a change of pace from your usual. You didn’t give her that bruise, did you? I don’t remember you being that kind of man.”
Turning to look at Rachel, I stared at the woman I’d once would have given my life for I adored her so much. Perfect with flawless makeup that made her look like the finest airbrushed picture, she was still beautiful in a way that most men would give their left arm for. To me, though, she looked fake. Maybe it was because I knew what ugliness lived under the designer clothes and plastic surgery.