“Among other reasons.”
Despite being half-convinced that Cassius would finger me or do something far more sexual on the takeoff, Cassius never went further than when he had slid his hands about a third of the way up my thighs. Oh, he didn’t stop teasing me; he’d brush a hand on my knee, run his hands through my hair when he stood up, keep that intensely cold look on me. The teasing combined with a lack of payoff left me spinning even more by the time the plane started to descend a few hours later.
I had to look out the window to distract myself—and to actually find out where we were.
By the looks of it, New York City. The Mecca of art and entertainment, at least except for Hollywood’s grip on video production.
“When did you decide we’d be spending the weekend in New York City?”
“Sometime last night,” Cassius said with a shrug.
“And do you plan anything in advance?”
Cassius chuckled. It wasn’t a full-on laugh, but it sure was something.
“Depends on what you are asking about. Do I plan trips like this? Not really. With my wealth, a trip like this would be likeyou going to the park. Do I plan other things? I’ve been planning parts of my life since I was nineteen, Sarah.”
The age when we first met.No, that had to be a coincidence. He was undoubtedly referring to the business empire he and his brothers had built from the ground up; he might have had plans for me, but there was no way that plan had remained the same since nineteen.
I knew better than to probe further and just nodded my agreement. I wondered what this weekend would entail—and I also wondered how the sleeping arrangements would work. He couldn’t go home, and I couldn’t go back to the hotel room I booked myself. We were going to be forced to share the same room.
“You might be wondering what we’ll do this weekend,” Cassius said. I kept my gaze on the emerging Manhattan skyline, not wanting to show him that he’d practically read my mind. “We have a gala tonight, like the others. There will be more people, richer people, but it shouldn’t be anything too different. We have a hotel suite, but don’t you worry. Your dignity will remain intact; you will have your own bedroom. I am simply raising the stakes this weekend.”
“How?”
That was a stupid question, and I regretted it the instant I asked it. The more of the mystery I tried to dissolve, the less fun it would be for Cassius—and the more likely it would be the plug would get pulled on this great adventure.Or great nightmare, depending on the ending Cassius has in mind.
If he has even made up his mind on how he wants this to end.
If you two even share the same definition of what makes for a dream and what makes for a nightmare.
“Have you ever seen a press more ravenous than the New York press?” he said. “The paparazzi in Los Angeles, perhaps,but they are a bunch of mindless skirt chasers. The press in New York is ruthless and intelligent. If your art does not stand the test, they will call out both of us.”
“My art?”
Cassius chuckled, this time in a more condescending manner.
“Did you think we’d fly all the way out here and not show off something you have?”
I smiled, but inside I was panicking. There was something to be said for gradual exposure; it was true that no artist got to control when they hit it big. Some did it out of the gate, some went nowhere for years before exploding, and some never exploded. But all agreed that in an ideal world, you’d make mistakes while small before being ready for the big time.
Vegas was about as big as I was willing to go leading into this. New York City was the Mecca, but it could also be hell. I was… now not just nervous. Now I was panicked.
“Sarah,” Cassius said.
But I barely heard him. Panic was starting to consume me. I wouldn’t have a panic attack, I wasn’t quite like that, but God, I was nervous. They would be ruthless, they would be?—
“Sarah!”
I snapped back. Cassius had his hand on mine; I hadn’t even noticed in the anxiety consuming my mind.
“Do you trust me?”
The honest answer? No, but that didn’t mean I distrusted him. It just meant I didn’t know enough. And the only way to know enough was to have a retrospective, a time to look back on.
But so far… he at least merited having trust for gala exhibitions, if not for what happened behind closed doors.
“Yes,” I said.
