He wouldn’t have long to wait for the answer, and he would be fully occupied in the meantime with his work. His people would inform him if a problem occurred. This was the end of his personal involvement with Cassandra Rich.
He tossed this reasoning back and forth, trying to convince himself that he believed it, until he walked into an empty apartment, and for the first time in his life he experienced loneliness. The penthouse was too big for him. It was empty and impersonal. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? He found himself wandering from room to room, searching for something of Cassandra’s to hold, to keep...and, yes, to cherish. He should have remembered how meticulous she was. For a healthy, vigorous and very physical woman, she had the organised mind of a scholar. But she was quirky too, he remembered, slanting a smile as he walked to the window to stare up at the sky, and there were moments when she could be adorably messy. Basically, she was down-to-earth and natural. She was also unpredictable, cheeky and confrontational. She was a strong woman. She had wanted to go, and she had left him. She was Cassandra.
He turned full circle slowly in the hope of spotting something she’d left. Had he found a scarf that she’d worn wrapped around her neck, he would have brought it to his face and inhaled deeply in the hope of catching a hint of her scent...
But there was nothing, and he finally gave up. The penthouse unsettled him. It was far too quiet. He turned on his music. He loved music, and this particular piece of low-key jazz usually soothed him, but today it irritated him, because it reminded him of the dance he’d enjoyed with Cassandra. Switching it off, he flopped down on the sofa and reached for that day’s untouched newspaper. Leafing through the pages, he barely glanced at them, and was about to toss it aside when he saw a picture that stopped him. A chain of popular low-cost fashion stores had copied the dress Cassandra had worn for the charity event. Just to rub salt in the wound, it appeared under the heading ‘Cheap and Cheerful’, next to a shot of Cassandra entering the building looking absolutely stunning. The heading over Cassandra’s picture read: ‘The Billion-Dollar Babe Version’. There was a snarky piece beneath about the heights that could be achieved by an ambitious woman, who, if she had only known it, could have looked just as good in the chain-store version of the dress without compromising her principles.
Tossing the paper aside, he closed his eyes, and for the first time he was glad that Cassandra had left Rome, so she could escape the vitriol that went with being with him.
He could still remember the shock he’d felt when he had first seen her in that dress. Her transformation had been complete—from no-nonsense girl into a unique and very beautiful woman. From there it had been inevitable that he would remember the sex—the furious sex—the sex she had enjoyed as much as he had. He’d never known anything like it, and doubted she had. It was quite possible that a child had been conceived that night. They had certainly given it their best shot. He had never been so reckless...
With a sound of self-disgust, he sprang up and headed off to bed. Much good that did him. Everything reminded him of Cassandra—his bedroom, the bed, the shower. Was there anywhere in the penthouse they hadn’t made love?
Would he ever be rid of her ghost?
Did he want to be?
He didn’t sleep. He paced for half the night and dozed fitfully for the rest of the time, and all of it with his mind full of Cassandra. At first light he rang his people to make sure she had arrived safely. They reassured him that she had. He cut the call and looked around, knowing that this was his life now. This was his lonely, bitter life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ONE THING FOLLOWED ANOTHER. It was as if fate was conspiring against him. His workload had never been heavier, and when it became necessary for him to visit the UK to get an overview of some properties he was considering buying, he was conflicted. He had been trying to keep his distance from Cassandra. They didn’t have a future together, and it was kinder to them both if he avoided relighting old flames. That she took second billing to his work seemed cold and contrived, even to him, but as things stood, it was the best he could manage.
Cassandra, meanwhile, seemed to be doing very well without him. She was as doggedly independent as always, and to his frustration she made no call on him at all. She was designing gardens, rather than digging them, his people had told him, adding that, in their opinion, there was no reason for concern, as she was taking good care of herself and doing very well. Without him.