His words make a weird sort of sense, and even though they don’t seem like typical Cav, his serious expression says he means them absolutely.
“How do we get there?”
Smoothing his hand through my hair again, he tilts my head back further. “We start over. A new beginning where we leave the past behind.”
The concept is as seductive as it is simple.
“The past has its claws hooked deep in us.”
Cav releases me before setting me away from him a step. “Are you more than Creighton Karas’s little sister?”
I blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. “Maybe not to everyone, but absolutely.”
“There are a hell of a lot of reasons I left New York, but the most compelling one is the fact that I’m not just Dom Casso’s bastard kid. That’s my past. It has nothing to do with who I am now. I don’t take orders from him. I don’t fall in line. My future is a lot bigger than the life I had in New York. In Hollywood, I’m Cav Westman. I’m my own man, and I’ve worked my ass off to become the kind of man you could respect. I’ve made my way on my own merit, not with my name, my connections, or anything else.”
I understand what he’s saying and can respect it, because as long as I stay in New York, I’ll always be Creighton Karas’s little sister. Be catered to because of my name and my connections. Any job I get will be obtained through the network my family ties allow me to be part of. The idea of stepping outside that bubble into a world where I have to make my way solely on my own merit like Cav did is equal parts terrifying and invigorating.
Can I do it? Am I going to have that chance? Cav is watching me, waiting for a response.
My reply is completely honest. “You’ve always been the kind of man I could respect, Cav. You didn’t have to change anything for that.”
His gaze drops to the floor for a beat before meeting mine again. “You know what I mean.”
“I think you’ve always been harder on yourself than anyone else would ever be.”
He shrugs and turns the conversation back to his point. “So, what do you say, Greer? Fresh start? New beginning? You and me trying to make something real together? No pretending this time.”
He holds out his hand, offering it to me. All I have to do is take it, and he’ll lead me out of the darkness and into the light.
It’s time.
As I reach out and wrap my fingers around his, the anger I’ve been harboring since the morning I left Belize releases.
No pretending this time.
It’s not quite daylight when we step down the stairs of the plane onto the tarmac. A black SUV waits for us twenty feet away, a driver in a suit standing next to the open door.
Cav and I were both quiet after my epic breakdown on the plane. So many thoughts battered my brain as I changed into clothes more suitable than my pajamas. Yes, I’ve agreed to a new beginning and let go of my anger, but the rawness of my feelings hasn’t disappeared quite yet. Trust is a fragile thing, and gluing the pieces together of something that has already broken twice before is a difficult task.
I want to trust Cav, I really do, but it’s going to take time. No pretending, which means I need to get there for real. He can say all the right things, but I need to see them in action before my instinctive wariness will fade.
Cav helps me into the SUV and hands my duffel bag to the driver to stow in the back before sliding into the black leather captain’s chair beside mine. The driver climbs into his seat and shuts the front door. He rattles off an address, and Cav confirms it’s correct.
I’ve been to LA before, but never to Hollywood, so this is going to be a completely new experience for me. New beginning. New life.
Can it really be so easy?
As the driver navigates out of the private airport, Cav reaches over and grabs one of the hands folded in my lap. Linking his fingers with mine, he brings it between us and squeezes.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve imagined what it would be like to bring you home.”
Home. Cav’s home. I’m curious as hell about what his place will tell me about the man. He’s been in my space—hell, he watched me from afar, studying me and learning my habits before I even knew he existed. I’m so far behind when it comes to Cav. Maybe this is my chance to find out everything he’s hidden from me—and what I couldn’t learn in the media.
The SUV curves around turns up into the hills until the driver pulls into a driveway blocked by a gate. Every house on this street has a gate, so apparently that’s nothing out of the ordinary. The driver must be well versed in gate etiquette because he pulls up far enough so Cav can slide down the passenger window and type in the code on the keypad. The gate swings open, and the driver pulls in and parks before hopping out and opening my door.
He offers me a hand. “Miss?”
I accept it and climb out, memorizing every detail of the exterior of the house while I wait for Cav.
Like many other houses we passed on the way in, it’s Spanish-style architecture with cream-colored stucco walls and a terracotta curved-tile roof. More terracotta tiles cover the arched overhang of the front entryway. No garage doors face the street, so I have to assume they’re off to the side where the driveway swings around. Small shrubs and ornamental trees dominate the landscaping. It’s not fancy, and I assume it’s drought resistant. The lawn is green, but not as lush and vibrant as my aunt and uncle’s estate.
After he thanks the driver and tosses the strap of my bag over his shoulder, Cav snags my hand and leads me toward the door. He releases me to dig into his pocket for a set of keys and after he unlocks the door, he pushes it open and I get my first look at Cav’s home.