Fire & Ice ~ The Drake Legacy: Book One (12 page)

Well, anyway, when finally daddy died, a few years ago, he left everything to Xander. Absolutely everything. The whole kit and caboodle.

I know you're looking at me like you don't believe it, but it's true.
 

Everything I'm telling you right now is the truth.
 

That's how he started his company. Through family money. Through daddy’s money that he inherited, just for being the favorite.
 

Me, I had to work hard on my own. Had to build myself up through sheer hard work and determination.
 

But you know what, though, Cassie? I'm fucking glad of it. It’s taught me that I can do this on my own. It’s taught me who I really am. Not like that faker.
 

So that's why I chose to honor my mother's maiden name and not try to make it in this world on my family reputation. The 'D' in my name may stand for 'Drake' but like hell am I gonna cash in on that legacy now, when it's given me nothing but bullshit and heartache …
 

Fuck that.
 

I’d rather die than be called a Drake.
 

Chapter Eighteen

§

Half Truths & New Beginnings

As Caleb came to a close on his tale, I could tell that there was still a lot of anger and resentment still burning and churning inside him, and it made me feel thankful that my own family situation had, in contrast, been a good one. I mean, sure, it was absolutely horrible when my father died, but at least there had been real love in our family. While in Caleb's life, it sounded like there had been only anger, hatred and recriminations.
 

I reached out and stroked his face softly. He flinched. Then smiled.
 

"Listen, Cassie," he mumbled, glancing up at the large silver clock face on the wall opposite. "I think it's best if you go soon … I don't feel like I'd be particularly great company this evening … Talking about my past always puts me in a rather funny mood …”

"Sure," I said, picking up my glass and finishing my last drops of wine. "I understand."

"But thank you so much for tonight," he said, smiling sheepishly, boyishly, up at me as I stood.
 

Caleb got up from the couch too and saw me out to the front door.
 

And as I approached it, I passed a large mahogany cabinet, with a few simple ornaments and photo frames displayed tastefully on its shelves.
 

I paused; something odd caught my eye.
 

Caleb looked over to where I was staring: at a large silver photo frame, displaying a picture of him and Kelly, that stick-thin bitchy girl that had been taunting Xander at the ball the other night.
 

My eye darted across to
another
photo frame, and there they were again, hugging and smiling, dressing in skiing gear, all red noses and windswept hair.
 

What the hell?
 

"Oh those …" Caleb blurted when he saw where my gaze was directed. "Those are just … old photos. I … I'm not with her anymore. That's my ex-"
 

"Sure," I said, unable to quite mask the hesitancy and disbelief in my voice.
 

“Okay, see you round," Caleb said coldly, suddenly putting his hand on the small of my back and steering me away from the cabinet and briskly and forcefully to the door.
 

"Bye," I said, as he almost slammed the door to his apartment in my face.
 

The sound of the slamming door rang in my ears, and I stood there for a moment in the hushed, plush-carpeted hallway, in open-mouthed shock at his sudden rudeness.
 

Something major wasn't right about all this; and it wasn't all down to Caleb's sudden mood swing after telling his story.
 

No, there was more to it than that … But what?

And then it hit me: a razor sharp, crystal-clear flashback memory of the night at the ball, directly after I'd met up with Xander again in the lobby.
 

He'd told me Kelly was
his brother's wife
.
 

Which would make sense of the photos I'd just seen.
 

Oh God
, a voice inside me said, as I began to wonder how much, if any was true of Caleb’s story.
I think I've made an absolutely terrible mistake …

§

The following day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been taken for a ride; taken advantage of, used and discarded.
 

I tried to tell myself that I had not done anything wrong. That Xander was the one that had hurt
me
, and I was well within my rights as a single, modern young woman, to have casual sex with whomever I chose. But I couldn't help but feel like I was part of something bigger; some decades-long power play that had been going on between them, and perhaps was still in progress.
 

Also, I couldn't help shaking the feeling that Caleb
knew
; knew about Xander and me, knew about what had happened, and knew that seducing me would wound his brother — perhaps mortally.
 

Oh God.
 

I felt like such a silly little fool for being part of it all.
 

I tore at my hair and screamed silently, wishing there was some way I could turn back the clock and do things differently, if given another chance.
 

Well, I decided, at least it was all over now.
 

That chapter of my life was well and truly at a close.
 

From now on, I would be much more careful who I fell for. And from now on, I wouldn't just jump into bed with the next handsome man who came along either.

I'd been such a goddamn idiot!
 

I knew that I should start searching for a job again, too, but I just couldn’t quite summon up the requisite motivation. Instead, I’d found myself hiding away, staying in my apartment, calling out for junk food deliveries, and ignoring the phone calls and worried answer phone messages building up from both Lauren and my mom.
 

I just needed a few days to clear my head, to shut out the world, to draw the curtains and get my bearings again, because it honestly and truly felt like I’d had my heart ripped from my chest and torn up in front of me.
 

Every single time I thought about the sequence of events that had led me here, I either wanted to scream or cry; sometimes I did both.
 

No way are you getting yourself into a situation like that again, Cassie Lawrence, I told myself sternly.
 

This is an important life lesson you’ve learned here. So you’d better start growing up and moving on from it …
 

Chapter Nineteen

§

A Difficult Decision

Late on Monday morning, the doorbell rang. I rolled over in bed, wondering just who it could possibly be. Lauren, I guessed, as I dragged myself out of my warm pit, sad to be shaking off the comforting, safe snugness of my duvet and sheets. I pulled on my favorite old dressing robe and bumbled towards the door, steeling myself for the obligatory 'YOU LOOK DREADFUL' that would surely greet me, when Lauren saw what a disgusting state I'd let myself, and the apartment, slip into.
 

"Look, I'm fine …" I began as I opened the door, but then I stopped in my tracks, open mouthed at the sight before me.
 

Because instead of Lauren, standing there at my door was the same well-suited, chauffeur that had given me a lift to the ball, just a week ago.
 

"Good evening, Madam," he said, not batting an eyelid at my disheveled state.
 

"Um, good evening to you too,” I replied, feeling so horrible and ugly, pulling my tatty old robe a little more around myself to cover up my PJ’s.
 

"A letter for you," he said, handing me a red envelope; from the same set of stationary as Xander’s original invite to the ball.
 

I took the letter from his hand, thanked him, and closed the door.
 

Then, a little dazed, I flopped down onto my couch, took a deep breath, and tore it open. Inside was a single piece of thick cream paper, folded once. Written on it, in a beautiful cursive hand, was the following:
 

Dear Cassie,

I'm so,
so
sorry for the way I reacted, both at my apartment, and on the following Monday in my office. There are no words to accurately describe just how absolutely guilty and sick I feel at the thought of losing your friendship and I want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were.
 

I overreacted - I see that now. I overreacted and I’m a terrible fool and I need to explain my actions.
 

If you will do me the honor of seeing me in person, I would like very much to try to make things up to you.
 

But I will also completely understand if you think that things are irreparable between us now.
 

I'm away on business in London, England at the moment. I know it's short notice, but I was wondering if you would fly out here to meet me - just as a friend, you understand - so I can explain in person just why I reacted the way I did. I’ve booked you a return flight on a plane leaving in two hours time, and I've instructed James to wait downstairs from your apartment in the car for half an hour. He has your ticket. If you want to see me, just get into the limo and he'll drive you to the airport. If you don't come though, I will understand.
 

I know it's a long shot, and you'll probably just tell me to go to hell, but I need to at least
try
to put things right between us, or else I will never forgive myself, for as long as I live.
 

Because I realize now just how special you are, Cassie, and I've learnt that I'm miserable without you in my life.
 

I do hope you'll come.
 

I'll be waiting …

Yours,
 

X

I looked at the clock on the wall, then back down at the beautifully-written letter. I moved hesitantly towards the window and stared down into the street and sure enough, there was the same stretch limo, waiting outside my apartment.
 

I looked again at the clock.
 

I had twenty five minutes remaining to decide whether or not to go and meet him.
 

I sat back down on the couch and clutched my head in my hands.
 

Oh, this was all such a terrible, horrible, tangled mess. Why couldn’t life be easy?

I knew I had to act soon; it would take me five minutes to shower and another ten to pack some clothes into a suitcase.
 

Which left me just ten minutes left to decide.
 

I sat there in my shabby apartment, my head spinning, and my heart feeling like it was being pulled in two different directions simultaneously.
 

What in the world was I going to do?
 

I took a deep breath, then made my decision …
 

Chapter Twenty

§

Baby, It's Cold Outside

On the flight I watched a stupid, brainless movie; some rom-com starring Sandra Bullock, about a girl who meets Mr Right, then he turns into Mr Wrong, but by the end of the flick, they’re totally back in love again.
 

Oh, if only
real life
were that easy, I thought, gazing out of the window at the fluffy clouds bobbing past.
 

Because right now I had the horrible feeling that this meeting wasn’t going to end so well for Xander and me.
 

I had the horrible feeling that I would have to break the news to him about my sordid little fling with Caleb, and that that would just make things even worse.
 

Every time I remembered the sex in Caleb’s apartment, I shuddered and had to push it from my mind. I’d not been myself that evening. I wished I could just bury the incident deep in my
 
subconscious and never remember it ever again.
 

Once again, my mind turned back to Xander. His letter had moved something deep inside me, and I knew I had to give him the opportunity to explain. Also, I just wanted to see him again. I’d felt so mixed up and unmoored, so anchor-less and muddled since this whole silly business had begun, and a small simple part of me just needed to see him again. Because when I was with him it felt like things finally made sense; like all the chaos and noise and turmoil and ridiculousness of the world kind of quietened down a little.
 

§

We arrived into Heathrow Airport just after eight pm, and when the Captain told us the temperature a few of the passengers giggled and shivered.
 

We stepped of the plane and the cold evening wind whistled around us, blowing our hair, putting the color back in our cheeks.
 

Winter in London! I thought, remembering the cherished times I'd spent in the country's capital as a little girl: walking down Oxford Street, my mouth agape as I took in the dazzling sights, the Christmas trees and the strings of flashing lights; all that hustle and bustle of the crowd of shoppers, and the tangible feeling of electricity and excitement in the air.
 

I wondered whether I'd have time to check in on my Aunt Ginny, perhaps, who still lived fairly nearby, in Kent.
 

But first, before all that, I had to meet Xander.
 

As I passed through the gateway marked 'Nothing to Declare', I wondered what exactly would happen next. I'd been given no further instructions on what to do or where to go.