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
