Kristina closed her eyes and winced. It was NOT a date. It was a picnic and a walk around Spoon Island. She was merely being a good hostess for an out of town guest, a fellow Cassadine who had never been to the island or the majestic home and estate that nestled upon the island.
Still, she had made the mini-sandwiches under Mrs. Landsbury’s steady eye. She’d carefully selected and cut up the fruit. She’d spent more time than necessary at the cheese shop in downtown Port Charles, choosing the perfect creamy and smoky delicacies to go along with the crackers Andresj had said were the best kind he’d ever tasted.
She’d carefully planned the outing, taking care to note the times and weather patterns and what she would say at each viewing point.
Kristina frowned at the evidence of how much she’d cared. How nervous and excited she’d been.
How disappointed she was when he did not come at the agreed time.
How her heart sank when Nikolas’ guards confirmed that Ronan had gone to Helena’s yacht and the Hera had pulled anchor and sailed off to international waters.
He had simply left, without saying goodbye.
And while she should be furious, while she should be storming around Wyndemere, ensuring everyone knew of what Ronan Cassadine had done, she found herself too swallowed up by her own humiliation.
And there was the Athena problem to contend with.
No, Kristina had decided, for once, to not thrust herself to center stage and instead, push her own feelings aside and help her family.
She gave a firm nod. They needed her more than Ronan Cassadine did.
But before she would help her family, she would search the guest room Ronan had stayed.
She pushed open the door and entered the darkened room.
The room was modest of size but nevertheless lavish. Handsome bow windows sat in one corner of the room, a four poster bed just a few feet away. On the opposite wall was a window framed fireplace and two simple wingback chairs placed in front. Kristina noticed two small books on the end table of one chair and could just picture Ronan in front of the roaring fire, reading quietly, one leg crossed over the other, and a small smile playing about his lips as he enjoyed a quiet evening
Moving to where she felt would help, she zeroed in on the perfunctory desk and chair sitting near the ensuite bathroom. She opened each drawer with no results. A search of the armoire, bedside tables and the drawers in the bathroom also proved fruitless.
Kristina glanced around the room, letting out a growl of frustration. She knew that since Ronan had not officially informed the Cassadine staff that he was leaving, they would continue to replenish fresh linens and towels each day and ensure the suite was in perfect order until Nikolas decided otherwise. They would not remove anything from the room that even appeared to be owned by Ronan.
What was it Marcus said?
Sometimes, what I’m looking for is right in front of me. I don’t know it until I give myself the time to see it. Evidence is about clues, but it’s also about respect. Respecting what is left behind.
Kristina took a deep breath, centering herself. Only when her frustration evaporated, did she open them again. Her gaze surveyed the room slowly, taking it all in and it occurred to her than Ronan was not a messy person. His clothes were folded and hung perfectly, even arranged by color. His toiletries were uniform and linear as were his shoes near the bed.
Everything had been put away. Not by staff, but by Ronan himself.
Like a magnet, her eyes flew to the only two items that were not put away. The books.
She picked up the first. French poetry. Careful of the binding, she flipped the pages end to end with no results.
She picked up the second and smiled. Jane Austen’s Emma. She’d rattled on about her favorite novel to him over tea, and mentioned how Stefan had gifted a first edition when she turned 15. She’d urged him to read it when he got the chance.
She turned the pages slowly, and her eyes fell to a short passage, one she knew well.
Evil to some, is always good to others.
A chill ran down her back and she trembled and with that, a flutter of paper, slipped from between two pages and twirled in its descent to the floor. Picking it up, she immediately recognized Ronan’s penmanship. Sharp angles and prefect loops and a date and time and place in three short lines.
Kristina took in a breath. Their date. He’d noted it down. He would not have done that if he’d had no intention of attending.
Something was wrong.
*~*
Lainey Winters moved slowly down the hallway to her apartment, not even caring that she was still wearing her sunglasses. She put one foot in front of the other, wincing with each step, but knowing each step took her closer to her front door.
Beyond her front door was a fridge with cold cuts, Dijon mustard, Swiss cheese and rye bread. Possibly a leftover cold beer. There was also her shower, with her mango scented body wash. Finally, there was her plush, queen sized bed and the knowledge that she her next shift wasn’t until the following morning. She could actually sleep.
Unlocking the door, she entered the shadowed apartment and tossed her keys and clutch on the counter, her heels fell from her hand to the floor with a clatter. She shut the door and locked it, resting her head against the door jam and let out a long, shaky sigh.
And then her face curved into a smile.
*~*
Her hands flew up to the headboard to brace, she’d already smacked her head against it twice, she didn’t want a third lump. He noticed immediately and with a gentle laugh, pressed a kiss to her neck and pulled them further down the bed and away from the offensive mahogany.
“Sorry darlin’,” he murmured as his large hands moved from her hips to her breasts, pinching the hard pebbles at each peak before leaning down to suckle, the sensation eliciting a hurried sigh from her lips.
What had she said to him earlier?
“I never do this.”
But she was so glad now that she did.
What had he said?
“Then I’ll be sure to make it memorable.”
His stamina was breathtaking. There had been hard and fast just inside the hotel room doorway. There’d been slower on the bed. There’d been flirty and sensual in the shower, where she had presumed would be the end of their night.
But no.
Before her skin was even dry, when she had her dress in one hand and her torn panties in the other, he had pulled her towards his muscular nude frame, felt his hardness pulse against her flesh. His long arms enfolded her close, his left hand reaching down to where she was already ready with want. He cupped her mound, lazily torturing her jewel, his teeth nibbling on her earlobe. “Not yet, not yet, not yet,” he whispered, almost as a taunt and she released a moan, drowning to his touch.
Once again, he began a rhythm that astonished her. His full length entered her as he molded his frame to hers, his gaze locking onto hers, unwavering and unyielding.
Her cries, at first, had been modest, almost reserved. She worried about sound traveling, people knowing what she, Lainey Winters, was doing with a man she hardly knew.
But with every joining, with every punishing thrust, with every touch of his hand on her, she came more alive and abandoned all reservations.
If people heard, then GOOD. They’d wonder why it wasn’t them.
It was her. It was her turn to be ravished, to be adored, to be worshipped.
And he did. Again and again and again.
With a growl that set her spine tingling, he drummed into her, groaning as her walls mercilessly clutched onto him, and she cried out in triumph as a shot of ecstasy jolted through her. It continued like that for what seemed like hours. Even when her tender flesh protested and her body demanded relief, Lainey brought him in again.
And again.
Still hungry.
His eyes glittered when she had caught her breath. “Well, you certainly know what you’re doing,” she remarked as she trailed her tongue along the rolling hills of his physique, tasting every inch of the dark chocolate Adonis before her.
“Would you say I know how to hit the right spot?” he asked with a wicked grin. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the pun, but played along anyway. She couldn’t resist that grin. Hell, she was finding there wasn’t much of anything about him she could resist.
“Yes, Archer, you certainly do.”
*~*
The flurry of activity began small until it grew to a steady line of back and forth from Wyndemere to the launch. Staff members shuttling valise after valise of varying shapes and sizes. One launch had already carried over a load to the mainland, where it would be met by Cassadine staff and security, loaded up once more onto trucks and taken directly to the airport for a non-stop flight to Greece.
By the time the second launch arrived, Stefan had arrived on scene, curious as to why he had not been informed of what was transpiring. His eyes settled on his youngest son, now standing with Mrs. Landsbury, who was doing her best to appear professional and calm, but Stefan knew all too well the signs of distress in the normally unflappable woman. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Alazne storm away from Andresj and the housekeeper towards him. Their eyes met but her fury did not stop. “He cannot do this!” she thundered at him, her jet black hair swinging angrily behind her as she turned to point at Andresj. “This is unacceptable!”
Nikolas also entered the room, freshly returned from his trip to Laura’s home. His expression was calm, but he was noticeably alarmed by what was happening. He and Stefan exchanged a look as both walked towards Andresj. Mrs. Landsbury excused herself while Alazne, eyes still blazing, strode off after her.
“What is going on?” Nikolas asked, just as Stefan opened his mouth to ask the same question.
“It’s very simple,” Andresj said, allowing his gaze to meet first Nikolas and then Stefan. Both men blinked with surprise at the sheer hardness in his normally calm blue eyes.
“I have sent Drea home to her family. The staff is removing her things from our room and will be sent back with her.”
“Why?”
His expression stony, Andresj glared at the last bag to leave the room. The men were alone in the newly silent foyer.
“The wedding is off.”
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