The Future King's Love-Child (The Royal House 0f Karedes Book 6) Page 4

  The aide bowed respectfully and left the room, closing the door softly but firmly behind him.

  Sebastian picked up his glass of wine, twirling it in his hand for a moment as he centred his gaze on Cassie. ‘You do not drink alcohol any more, Cassie?’ he asked.

  Cassie looked at the tiny condensation bubbles clinging to the outside of his crystal glass and wondered if she would ever be able to look at alcohol again without feeling shame. In the past she had done so many things while inebriated she would never have done normally. She cringed at the thought of how she had come across to so many people, Sebastian included. She had always been the life of the party, laughing and carefree as drink after drink had been consumed. Her worries had lessened with every mouthful and, even though the headaches the next morning had been unpleasant, she had been prepared to put up with some discomfort for the temporary reprieve the consumption of alcohol had given her.

  She was suddenly conscious of the stretching silence and Sebastian’s steady dark gaze on her. ‘I lost my taste for alcohol while I was in prison,’ she said quietly. ‘I haven’t touched it since.’

  ‘That is probably a good thing,’ he said. ‘I don’t drink as much as I did when I was young. I guess we have grown up, ne? A glass of wine at lunch or dinner is plenty.’

  ‘Do you ever see any of the gang we used to hang around with?’ Cassie asked once they had commenced eating the delicious salad.

  ‘The brat-pack?’ he asked with a ghost of a wistful smile.

  Cassie nodded, thinking of the hip crowd and the hangers-on they had associated with six years ago. She could almost guarantee she had been the only one to end up with a criminal record. The others were like Sebastian, out to have fun until family duty called. Not like she, who had been looking for something to take her mind off what she couldn’t quite face…

  ‘I see a few of them, of course, do business occasionally with them,’ Sebastian said, and then smiled. ‘I do not see so much of Odessa Tsoulis. Last I heard she had married a billionaire from Texas.’

  Cassie felt a small smile tug at her mouth. ‘She was rather intent on landing herself a rich husband, if I recall.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Sebastian said with a small laugh. ‘She was good fun. I liked her. She was very no-nonsense if you know what I mean. What you saw was what you got.’

  ‘Unlike me.’ Cassie wasn’t sure why she had said it, much less how she was going to deal with it now it was said. She looked away from his suddenly penetrating gaze, and, picking up her fork with a tiny rattle against the plate, resumed eating, but with little appetite.

  ‘Tell me about it, Cassie,’ he pressed her gently. ‘Tell me what happened that night.’

  Cassie stared at one of the octopus curls on her plate and wished herself a thousand miles away. Why couldn’t he leave the past where it belonged? What good did it do to haul over the ice-cold coals of regret? She couldn’t change anything. That had been the problem in the first place.

  She couldn’t change anything.

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ she said, and put her fork down with another little clatter against the edge of the plate.

  ‘Did you have an argument or something?’ he asked.

  ‘Or something,’ she said with a curl of her lip. ‘I said leave it, Sebastian. It’s done with. I don’t like being reminded of it.’

  ‘It must have been terrifying for you to be carted off to prison like that,’ he said, clearly determined to keep pressing her.

  Cassie gave him a resentful look. ‘I didn’t happen to see you in the crowd to offer me your support.’

  His expression darkened. ‘Would you have accepted my support if I had offered it?’ he asked. ‘You told me never to contact you again, remember? In any case I went abroad for several months after you ended our affair. I didn’t hear much about what was going on and no one in my family thought to tell me because they didn’t even know of our involvement. By the time I got back my father had already warned Lissa never to contact you and had packed her off to university in Paris before she could utter a single word of protest.’

  ‘So when you did get back you let me rot in prison because you didn’t want your father to find out we’d had an affair,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Wrong!’ He was only a decibel or two away from shouting the word at her. ‘Cassie, why can’t you see this from my point of view?’

  Cassie got up from the table, pushing in her chair with such force it sent a shock wave through his wineglass, the alcohol spilling over the edges and onto the crisp white tablecloth. ‘Oh, I can see this from your point of view, all right,’ she snipped at him. ‘A few months ago I was just yet another nameless person locked away in prison. Someone from your past you didn’t dare speak about, much less step forward and defend. Now you find I am one of the key players at the orphanage you want to support, so you think it might be timely to pour oil over troubled waters to mollify me enough to maintain your reputation in case I spill all to the press about our little clandestine affair.’

  ‘I care nothing for my reputation,’ he ground out with a flintlike flash of his dark eyes. ‘It is my family I am concerned about. I owe it to the generations of Karedes who have gone before me to act in a manner fitting for a future king.’

  She rolled her eyes at him. ‘So I guess that’s why we aren’t having lunch where everyone can see us, right, Sebastian? To maintain your family’s honour.’

  His brow was still deeply furrowed. ‘I was thinking of your safety. I told you last night there are still many people in the community who think you should have got life in prison.’

  ‘I did get life!’ Cassie said, closer to tears than she had been in years. ‘Do you think this is ever going to go away? I am marked for life as the daughter who killed her father. I see the way people look at me. They even cross to the other side of the road rather than look me in the eye. Don’t tell me I haven’t already been punished enough. Just don’t tell me.’

  He stepped towards her but she moved away, holding up a hand like a barrier to ward him off. ‘Please…’ She was close to begging and hated herself for it. ‘Give me a moment…please…’

  Sebastian clenched his hands to stop them reaching for her. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her things would improve now she was free, but he wasn’t sure she wanted to hear such platitudes from him. In any case, he wasn’t entirely sure they held any truth. But he’d also wanted to tell her how deeply shocked he had been to hear of her father’s death and the charge of murder she had been landed with. He could not believe his Caz could have done such a thing. But then he hadn’t thought her capable of the black-hearted deceit she had informed him of the day prior to her father’s death.

  She had gone from his bed to one of her many lovers, probably laughing about him behind his back the whole time. His gut still churned thinking about it, even after all this time. She wasn’t the person he had fallen in love with. He realised in hindsight the person he had loved was a fantasy he had constructed in his head. He had been a fool not to see her for what she was. She had acted the part of the devoted lover so easily and he had fallen for it. She was like a chameleon, changing constantly to fit in with the company or each situation she found herself in.

  But who was Cassandra Kyriakis now? She had spent five years in prison and another eleven months on parole, an experience any young woman would find life-changing, hopefully even reforming in some way. In any case, her days of living off her father’s wealth were long gone. Theo’s estate had been divided up between distant relatives, leaving Cassie virtually penniless. While her father had been alive, Cassie had spent his money as if entitled to every euro of it.

  Each time Sebastian had dared to bring up the subject of her taking a career or job of her own she had laughed in his face, telling him she was having a perfectly fine time living the life of a socialite.

  Cassie appeared to enjoy her work at the orphanage now, but what would happen when her parole period was up? Sebastian had had
enough trouble adjusting to living constantly in the public eye, but how much worse would it be for Cassie with the shame of her father’s death hanging over her?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CASSIE composed herself with an effort and resumed her seat at the table as if nothing had happened. She picked up her glass of water and drank several mouthfuls, conscious of Sebastian looking at her with a frown beetling his brows.

  She set her glass back down. ‘You said you had something to discuss with me over lunch about the orphanage,’ she reminded him coolly, and pointedly looked at her watch, making it clear she was on a strict time line, and, more to the point, he was not important enough to her to adjust it to accommodate him.

  He came back to the table and sat down, his expression still brooding. ‘You switch it on and off like magic, don’t you, Cassie?’ he said.

  She sent him an indifferent look without answering.

  ‘Damn it, Cassie, for once in your life show me you’re human,’ he growled at her. ‘You never let anyone get close to you.’

  Cassie clenched her hands into hard fists of tension in her lap and glared at him across the table. ‘What do you want me to do, Sebastian? Weep and wail and gnash my teeth? Would that make you feel better? To think I’m an emotional wreck, crippled by guilt and unable to resume my place in the world?’

  His eyes travelled over her face, pausing for a moment on the tight line of her mouth before locking on her flinty gaze. ‘I am not sure what I want from you, to tell you the truth,’ he said heavily.

  ‘Perhaps that’s why you invited me here,’ Cassie went on in the same resentful and embittered tone, ‘to have a gawk at me, a real-life prisoner. I guess not too many prince regents get the opportunity to have a private meeting with an ex-criminal.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘It’s not like that at all, Cassie,’ he said.

  ‘Then what is it like, Sebastian?’ she asked. ‘Why am I here?’

  He held her feisty look, his dark gaze sombre. ‘I wanted to see you again. To make sure you are all right.’ He released a breath in a small sigh and added, ‘I guess to see if you had changed.’

  Cassie cocked one eyebrow at him. ‘And what is your verdict?’

  He surveyed her features for several seconds, each one seeming like an eternity to Cassie under his ever-tightening scrutiny.

  ‘It’s hard to say,’ he said at last. ‘You look the same, you even sound the same, but something tells me you are very different.’

  ‘The correction services people will be very glad to hear that,’ she quipped without humour. ‘What a waste of public money if my incarceration hadn’t had some effect on my rebellious character.’

  His eyes held hers for another moment or two. ‘You still don’t like yourself, though, do you, Cassie?’

  Cassie forced herself to keep her gaze trained on his, but it cost her dearly. She felt her defences crumbling and hoped she could hold herself together until she was alone. ‘I am quite at home with who I am,’ she said. ‘Like a lot of people, I have things I don’t like about myself, but no one’s perfect.’

  ‘What don’t you like about yourself?’

  She chewed on her bottom lip and then, realising he was watching her, quickly released it. ‘I don’t like my…er…feet,’ she said, suddenly stuck for an answer. ‘I have ugly feet.’

  His mouth tilted in a smile. ‘You have beautiful feet, agape mou,’ he said. ‘How can you think they are not?’

  ‘I think they’re too big,’ she said. ‘I would like dainty feet like my mother had. I found a pair of her shoes one day but I could barely get my big toe in. She was so beautiful, so petite and elegant.’

  ‘I saw one or two photographs of her in your father’s office when I accompanied my father one time,’ he said. ‘She was indeed very lovely, but you are exactly like her.’

  Cassie picked up her water glass so she could break his gaze. ‘I sometimes wonder if we would have got on…you know…if she had lived.’

  ‘I am sure you would have enjoyed a close relationship,’ he said. ‘There is something about a mother’s love. My mother is much softer than my father ever was. He ruled with an iron fist but my mother was an expert in shaping our behaviour with positive attention and positive and loving feedback.’

  ‘She must have taken your father’s death very hard,’ Cassie said and, biting her lip again, added, ‘I am sorry I didn’t express my condolences to you before now. I should have said something last night.’

  ‘Do not trouble yourself,’ he said. ‘It was a dreadful shock, yes, especially as it happened on the night of my mother’s sixtieth birthday party.’

  ‘Yes, I heard about that,’ she said, looking up at him again. ‘A heart attack, wasn’t it?’

  He gave a grim nod. ‘All my life I have been groomed for the position of taking my father’s place when he died. I have developed a strong sense of duty as a result. This island is my home. The people who live here are my people. The only thing I am having trouble with now is I did not expect the responsibility to be passed on quite so soon.’

  ‘Yes…yes, of course,’ she said softly.

  ‘But enough about that for now,’ he said with a stiff smile that didn’t quite involve his eyes. ‘I wanted to talk to you about the orphanage. It seems an odd position for it to be located next to the prison, don’t you think?’

  ‘It is, but there’s never been any problem as far as I know,’ Cassie said. ‘And with the prison having its own crèche it makes it easier for female prisoners with babies and young children to have them on site with them.’

  A frown wrinkled his forehead. ‘You mean there are some women who have children in prison with them while they serve their sentence?’

  Cassie kept her eyes on his even though she could feel her face heating. ‘Yes…but only until the child is three years old. After that they are usually fostered out until the mother’s sentence comes to an end.’

  ‘But is prison really the best place for an infant or toddler?’ he asked, still with a frown in place.

  ‘The best place for any small child is with its mother,’ Cassie said. ‘The child hasn’t done anything wrong. Why should it be separated from its mother at such a young and vulnerable age?’

  ‘Is that what happened to the little boy who drew me that picture?’

  Cassie lowered her eyes and reached for her water glass again. ‘I told you I’m not familiar with every child’s circumstances, but, yes, it could well be that he has been taken away from his mother and that he had nowhere else to go. Relatives are not always well placed to take on someone else’s child, especially a child whose mother is serving time in prison.’

  A small silence fell into the space between them. Cassie could hear it ringing in her ears, her heart thudding so loudly she could feel the blood tingling in her fingertips where she was holding on to her glass. She forced herself to relax, making her shoulders soften from their stiffly held position, taking a moment to concentrate on breathing evenly and deeply to establish some semblance of calm.

  ‘I am uncomfortable with the notion of an infant under three being housed along with violent criminals,’ he said. ‘The same arrangement would not for a moment be considered in a male prison.’

  ‘Yes, that is true, but there are very good reasons for that,’ Cassie said. ‘For one, almost ninety per cent of female prisoners are jailed for non-violent crimes. They are far more commonly in for drug abuse or drug-related offences to feed their habit. They are very often the victims of childhood abuse and fall into the no-win cycle of drugs to help them cope with the devastation of their lives. Also, people now recognise the important bonding that goes on with an infant and its mother.’

  ‘You grew close to some of those women?’ he asked, appearing genuinely interested.

  ‘It is hard not to in such a confined place,’ Cassie said, thinking of the lifelong friends she had made, including Angelica. ‘The loss of dignity hits hard, not to mention the loss of freedom. Counting the d
ays off the calendar can be a very lonely task unless you have someone to talk to.’

  ‘Will you be able to move on from this?’ he asked softly.

  ‘I would like to think so,’ she said with a small measure of carefully nurtured confidence. ‘Once my parole is up I want to leave Aristo and start afresh.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I am a bit limited given my criminal record,’ Cassie said. ‘Not many employers want an ex-prisoner on their books. But I would like to study. I wasted my time at school so the thought of doing my leaving certificate again is tempting. After that, who knows? As long as it brings in enough money to put food on the table for us…I mean, for me, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘I heard your father did not leave you well provided for.’

  Cassie gave him a twisted look. ‘No, funny that, don’t you think? He left everything he owned to some distant cousins twice removed. He must have known I was going to push him down the stairs that night.’

  ‘What happened, Cassie?’ he asked again, looking at her intently.

  Cassie dropped her gaze from his. ‘We argued,’ she said in a flat emotionless tone. ‘I hardly remember what we argued about now—it all seems so muddled and foggy in my head. He was shouting at me, I was shouting back at him and then…’She closed her eyes tight, mentally skipping over that distressing scene until she felt she had control again. She reopened her eyes and carried on as if discussing the weekend weather. ‘Suddenly he was lying at the foot of the staircase with a head wound.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I panicked,’ she said, frowning as she forced herself to remember what had happened next. ‘I tried to get him to stand up. I thought he was putting it on just to scare me but he…’ she swallowed ‘…he didn’t…he didn’t wake up…’

  ‘So the police came and arrested you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not at first. They treated it as an accidental death, but a few weeks later one of the neighbours came forward and testified to hearing us arguing that night. Apparently that was enough to set the ball rolling. Within a few hours I was handcuffed and dragged off to give a statement. I pleaded guilty to manslaughter early the following day.’ Because I didn’t have the strength to fight after being hounded and questioned for hours by the police and no one would believe me if I told them the truth in any case, Cassie added silently. The interview room had been full of her father’s cronies. What chance had she had to clear her name?