The Transient Wife

Chapter 6

Cassandra lay on her bed wide awake and thoughtful. She tried to think about everything that happened that day and she already felt tired. Everything took place so fast. Except the usual gloomy morning and the occasional drinking, everything else was crazy: the sudden appearance of Philip Strindberg, the shock of her unknown marriage, the talk with her father and the secret he was hiding, the dinner, Angelica's unbelievable behavior, the ring, and that phone call from Harrison.

Thinking about her friend brought back so many memories. Most of them were happy ones, but thinking of those happy moments spent with Harrison also meant remembering Dennis. And remembering Dennis was just like opening Pandora's Box—everything bad rushed out and swirled around her and all that was left was that little tinge of hope that barely kept her in place.

She played with the ring around her finger and thought of Philip Strindberg. In her twenty-five years of existence, she had never met someone with so much arrogance and complex temperament as the man.

He was very different from Dennis, thank God for that. She couldn't imagine marrying someone that would remind her so much of the man who still haunted her dreams—awake or not. Yes, the years had healed most of the pain, but not the scars. They would always be there to remind her of the possible anguish she would feel if she ever gave her whole heart to someone else again.

And meeting Philip Strindberg assured her she wouldn't be as careless like before. She couldn't possibly give him anything since the man already had everything. And why would I? This is just a marriage for his convenience. And to save my father from whatever hell he got himself into. No need to give anything else but six precious months of my life, she thought.

But he's gorgeous and hot...Yes, of course he was and she was not denying that at all. She was not naïve not to detect the physical attraction they felt toward one another.

It can be a problem.

She restlessly turned to one side and closed her eyes to let sleep come slowly. So long as we don't act on it, she prayed before finally putting her mind to rest.

She did not even dare think about her father's real reason for making such stupid—and surely illegal—contract with Philip Strindberg. The daughter in her won and she knew that whatever her father's reason was—lame it may be—she could never walk in a police station and report what he had done. Maybe she'd find out about it soon, but for now she had to rest.

*****

She was awakened by the sound of angry knocking on her front door and the impatient buzzing of her doorbell. Groaning, she looked at her clock: 10:30 am. The time was slow to register through her sleepy head and when they finally did, she shot out of bed and stumbled to the floor.

"Shit!" she ran down the corridor and to the door. She didn't have to check who was outside because she almost felt the strong angry presence behind the door before she swung it open.

"Don't tell me you're going out dressed like that," Philip's livid eyes looked down at her.

Following his gaze, she stared down at her super thin night gown and gasped. She crossed her arms over her chest, cowering a little. "I think I've overslept."

He arched one eyebrow at her. "And what were you doing last night? I dropped you off early, didn't I?"

She breathed deeply and almost regretted it because his manly scent suddenly overwhelmed her senses. To stop herself from closing her eyes and revel at the scent of his aftershave, she stepped back and said, "Come inside. I'll just go get ready."