Secondly, Frank didn’t give a single shit if I ignored him. But any possible thing he could sniff out and find to drive between my mother and me, he took. It was as if he saw me as some sort of competitor that needed sidelining.
Maybe it was because unlike my mom, I saw right through his smarmy fake-charm bullshit and saw exactly what he was: a grifter. A con man. A phony only after my mother for the insane wealth her first husband had left behind.
Unfortunately, Mom didn’t see that part of him. Mom — aided by her newfound love of 11 a.m. cocktail hour, which was of course a new “Frank” thing — didn’t see that side of him at all.
“I’m not ignoring my mother, Frank,” I spat back. “I’m also not twelve, just so we’re clear. So I’m actually on work stuff — for my career. Not snapchat.”
“Well no one forced you to come down here and waste your time with us,” he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I usually tried to as I turned to my mom. She smiled, raising her fourth mimosa of the morning and grinning a loopy grin at me. “We’re on vacation, Cassie! Wasn’t it nice for Frank to treat us?”
I gritted my teeth. “He didn’t Mom. You did.”
“What’s that dear?”
“That’s enough,” Frank snapped. He reached over and took my mother’s hand before glaring at me again. “If you had so much work to do, why did you come here?”
To be fair, he had a point. Even growing up with money like I had, I’d never wanted frivolity like this. The Caribbean island resort was probably close to ten-grand a night, and I even had my own cabana, which probably doubled that.
Gross, right?
People are starving all over the world, and there we were literally eating caviar and sipping champagne for breakfast at some insanely expensive resort in this beautiful, exotic locale.
I mean, don’t get me wrong — the place was beautiful. White sands, crystal-blue water, palm-trees, thatched-roof cabanas with all the modern amenities wealth could buy? Yeah, amazing. The place could have even been pretty romantic.
That is, if I had romance in my life.
…I did not, in case that wasn’t clear. Not after my boyfriend of a year — Simon — skipped out on me along with my best friend two months before.
Yeah, nice friend, right?
Between that, the crazy amount of work I was taking on at the nonprofit I worked at, and the looming possibility of turning twenty-seven with not a single romantic prospect in my life, I’d said yes to the vacation.
Even if it did mean putting up with Frank’s childish bullshit.
“I came down to spend a little time with my mom, Frank,” I said thinly, reaching out and putting a hand over hers. “Right Mom?”
“What’s that dear?” She smiled at me in that dazed way again — the way she had been for the last few months.
“We’re going to spend some time together! Maybe go for a hike? Or some tennis, like we used to?”
“Sounds fantastic, dear!” She laughed — more than necessary — before raising her empty glass to the waitstaff.
Great.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. And as much as showy wealth like this always turned me off, being here was a change — one I probably needed if I was being honest with myself.
Stressed-out me, drunk Mom, asshole stepfather.
Not exactly the Disney post-card vacation, but it was a start.N
Chapter 3
My sour mood persisted through breakfast, through helping my mom back to her and Frank’s cabana for a “nap”, and through me heading back to mine to try and get some work done.
I know, in a way, Frank had a point. I was on vacation. I knew it was stupid for me to be sitting on the steps of my cabana typing away on a laptop, even if the view here was incredibly better than my office. But then, with my mom passed out, it’s not like I had much else to do, or anyone to actually be on vacation with.
I glared at the laptop screen before pulling my eyes up over the top of it and gazing out at the pristine beach.
Oh screw it.
I wasn’t admitting that Frank was right, but I did know me sitting there doing work in a place like this was some sort of sacrilege. I snapped the laptop closed, ducked back into my cabana, and started poking around my suitcase for my swimsuit.
The waves felt amazing — tropical water crashing over me with just enough coolness to chase away the heat of the equatorial sun. I dove into one, coming up for air with a grin on my face and actually feeling more refreshed than I had in a long time.
Maybe I needed this vacation.
I padded back up the beach to my towel, mostly dry from the sun by the time I even got there. I looked up the beach towards the resort, spotting my mom and Frank’s cabana on the edge of the sand. I sighed, pulling the towel tight around my waist as I started to head that way. It’d been a few hours now — time to check on Mom after her morning happy hour.
“Mom? You up?”
I skipped up the wooden stairs to the luxury-suite cabana and reached for the doorknob.
“Mom, are you-oh.”
I froze, stopping short in the doorway at the sight in front of me.
“Ever heard of knocking, Cassandra?” Frank hissed. He snapped the briefcase shut, shooting a quick glance at the man he’d been talking quietly with when I’d barged in.
“Sorry, I—”
“She went to get some lunch,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at me before shooting a quick glance at the other man — a dark-haired guy with an ugly scar running the length of his jaw. He was wearing a full suit, which seemed out of place to the point of absurdity in a beach resort like this, even if it was an insanely expensive one.
The man turned to me, his eyes slipping up and down my body, making me cringe and shiver in a not-so-nice way. He grinned, and I shivered again as I pulled the towel tighter around my waist and protectively crossed my arms over my bikini top.
Frank cleared his throat, snapping my attention back to him.
“I said she want to get some lunch, Cassandra. I’m in the middle of a meeting here.”
Beyond the weirdness of Frank having a business meeting at a tropical resort, in his cabana, wearing a t-shirt and swim-shorts, with a guy who looked like a James Bond villain, there was the other thing.
There was what I’d seen in that briefcase before he’d snapped it shut.
Money. Lots of money, all cash.
Frank awkwardly passed the briefcase to the man, who took it with a firm nod. “We’ll be in touch.”
The creepy guy turned back to me, his eyes slipping over me again in a way that made my skin crawl. His lips parted in a slow, predatory, leering grin.
“Be seeing you, sweetheart.”
I shivered and stepped quickly to the side as he moved past me and out the door.
“Knock next time you want to interrupt a business meeting of mine,” Frank grumbled, turning and heading to the bar against the far wall of the suite.
I narrowed my eyes at his back as he started to pour himself a drink. “What are you up to, Frank?”
He turned, taking a sip of his drink and glaring at me. “Business.”
“All cash business?”
“Leave it,” he snapped icily.