Page 21 of Beg for You

She chuckled softly. “I think I can get over my grudge quite easily, even tolerate Spencer’s old coot of a father, knowing that one day the land your father sold off will be yours again.”

The fractured pieces barely holding together in my chest crumbled to my feet. I forced a smile for her benefit.

Her eyes brightened further, and she winked up at me. “Who knows, I might even get to hold one of my great-grandbabies if time’s on my side.”

Nausea washed over me. The idea of sharing Spencer’s bed, of letting him touch me, made me feel physically ill. There was only one man I wanted, one man who could make my body sing.

He’s not for you. You know what you have to do.

I leaned in and kissed Gran on the cheek. “I better get to work.”

She patted my hand. “Okay, I’ll let you off this time. But I want to be the first to know if there are any further developments.”

“I promise you will,” I said and turned to leave.

My father stood by the door, expression carefully blank. “Cassandra,” he said in greeting.

“Dad,” I said, letting him see just how angry I was at him for talking to Gran. I knew he didn’t miss it when he blanched.

I strode past and he followed.

“It had to be done,” he said when I was at the front door, about to leave.

I spun to face him. “I haven’t given you my answer yet.”

He ran a hand over his hair, and his fingers were shaking. “Did you see how happy she was? How delighted she was knowing that we’d be getting our land back, that you’d be settled before—”

“Don’t,” I bit out.

“Cassandra—”

“You need to back off. I need time with this, do you understand? You need to stop pushing so I can think.”

“What is there to think about?” he said, voice hardening. “This is your family, your home. Are you telling me you’re willing to let us sink?”

“I need to go.”

“Cassandra—”

I walked out the door, pulling it closed behind me.

How had this become my life? What had I done to deserve this?

You kept silent and now Chris is dead.

I’d heard of karma, of course. The theory of what you put out into the universe, you got back tenfold, or something along those lines. This felt an awful lot like that. Chris lost his life, and now I could lose mine.

Yes, I’d still be breathing.

I’d just wish I wasn’t.

I stood back and admired a new painting. It was bold, vibrant, a real statement piece. It wouldn’t be here long. I knew my clientele, and this was exactly the kind of work that sold well. I’d opened the gallery straight out of college with a fine arts degree and no idea how to run a business. Honestly, I never expected to make a real living from it.

Turned out I was wrong. The gallery not only supported itself, it provided me with a more than adequate salary as well as enough to hire another full-time employee.

With the small trust fund I’d received from my mother to fall back on, I’d been free to pursue something I desperately wanted. I’d used most of that money to get started, not letting my hopes get too high. I just wanted to do what I loved.

Something independent of my father.