The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger (17 page)

A week after Cassandra had abandoned him, and left him standing alone in the room that was supposed to represent a welcoming, Marco boarded a small skip at the yacht club’s marina. Turning on the engine, he motored away from the dock, hoping a few hours out on the ocean would restore his equilibrium. God knew Marco needed something to take his mind off what had happened with Cassandra. Burying himself in endless meetings and long days of work had done nothing to alleviate his anger and frustration. Booze and even longer nights at his club had failed to dull the pain thudding behind his breastbone.

The minute he motored out of the marina’s protected waters, Marco hoisted the mainsail. The neon yellow canvas caught the wind, billowing with air and he moved to secure the rigging. The sea had always been his refuge, his escape. But the sound of gulls calling and waves slapping against the stern failed to soothe his wounded spirit. Because every moment that he sailed on the ocean resurrected memories about his days and nights with Cassandra.

The wind rustling through his sails echoed the triumph in her voice when she first conquered her phobia. The shades of light and dark rippling through the waves reflected the excitement in her azure eyes when she shared her catamaran’s capabilities and offered to let him race the
Barracuda
. The crash of water against his stern resurrected her passion when she came apart in his arms the first time they made love.

The ocean would never provide Marco with a safe place to go now that Cassandra haunted the waters.

Damn it. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? Marco increased his wind speed by several knots, pushing his muscles to the edge of their limits, wanting to go faster than his skip would allow. Wanting also to forget the cold sensation that had lived in the pit of his stomach the second he had walked into his penthouse that terrible night after bullshitting the reception guests about why Cassandra had left the party before it had even started.

Throughout the one hour he had remained to continue her parents’ damage control and mitigate the situation, her mother’s admonition reverberated in his mind. That he wasn’t worthy of Cassandra. That he had failed
her.
How could that be true when she had withheld a vital truth from him?

Wind stung his cheeks and water sprayed against his skin. Marco had left the reception an hour later, bent on making Cassandra admit that she had been wrong, but when he returned the penthouse it was cold, dark, and empty. Then he had discovered her wedding bands on the nightstand next to the very bed they had made love in hours earlier.

And in the days that followed, the only communication he had with Cassandra had been through emails from her office that updated the
Barracuda’s
final design trials. He told himself he didn’t care. So what if he didn’t have her in his bed at night? So what if he missed the way she curled into his arms and tucked her head under his shoulder at night? So what if he couldn’t stand waking up alone?

He’d get over losing Cassandra and deal with the loneliness because that’s what he had learned to do from the time he had discovered his mother’s lifeless body on her studio’s dance floor.

Now he’d put his energy where it belonged. Manning the
Barracuda
and winning another regatta trophy would have to fill the void. In a few short days Nelson Industries would launch the
Barracuda
in a ship naming ceremony. A seventeen-man team captained by Marco had been assembled to compete in the Platinum Cup in July. Early hype about the catamaran his genius wife had designed reinforced his belief that the
Barracuda
would win.

He had a world-class racer that could sail faster than the speed of wind. But the probability of winning no longer loomed sweet on the horizon. Because he had wanted to share this victory with Cassandra. But she had played him for an idiot by pretending to care for him when all she had wanted had been a way to become Nelson Industries’ Chief Operating Officer.

She had guaranteed that position in writing. And now Cassandra handled him the way she calculated algebraic equations. Logically. Unemotionally. And unequivocally unapologetic. So much so that he had tossed the official invitation to the
Barracuda’s
ship naming ceremony into the trash.

Dios.
So much had changed in a week. The sun heated his skin. Sweat and sea plastered his shirt against his chest. The water glinted a thousand shades of blue, reminding him once again of the light in Cassandra’s indigo eyes when she had first approached him the night of the reception. Her face had glowed with happiness and joy so radiant that his heart had swelled with pride for his beautiful bride. But then her ex-fiancé had stabbed a knife into his ego with his accusations and had blinded Marco to reason.

The wind whipped up and seagulls squawked, nagging him and guilt banging inside his temples. The words Cassandra had spoken reverberated through his mind, and stabbed him behind his breastbone. She had cared so much about her brother that she would have carried the truth about that awful crash to the grave to protect him. Love had been her motivation, not greed. She had risked everything—even her future—to shield the people she loved from pain and more grief. And he had refused to understand.

Marco caught more wind in his sail, the pressure of holding his skip steady straining the muscles in his forearms and biceps. Emotion balled in his throat. He had messed up big time when he’d latched onto Peter’s accusations with the tenacity of a shark. That loser and poser might have been whom Cassandra had once wanted, but the bastard didn’t deserve a woman of Cassandra’s caliber. And neither did Marco.

Shame scraped and clawed its way into his heart. How could he even expect her to listen now when he had attacked her scruples without once considering her feelings? Cassandra had been innocent, believing she had a future with that jerk until she caught Peter screwing someone else. And when she realized the precarious position her breakup had put her family’s company in, she went straight to the source of their troubles and proposed.

She’d wanted to save her family’s company, and make up for all that had happened because she had trusted her brother to succeed. Because she had believed she could help Justin become the man their father had wanted him to be. And she had done all of this without any regard for what she needed and deserved.

He couldn’t blame her for leaving. But nothing could fill the void he’d created when he’d pushed Cassandra away with his misguided anger. God, that anger had driven him for years after love had vanished. And when it had returned, he didn’t recognize the gift.

Salt spray pricked against his skin, ripped pain behind Marco’s eyes. All Cassandra had ever wanted had mirrored Marco’s own secret desires. Home. Family. Love. Cassandra had given him her heart. And like a first class fool, Marco had torn hers to shreds.

Water tracked down his cheeks. He swiped it away with one hand and changed his course to head back to the marina. The aching emptiness he’d experienced from the moment he had first realized Cassandra had left him couldn’t be obliterated by battling the sea. Nor could he find himself again on the open waters. Not without Cassandra beside him.

He missed her. He wanted to wake up with her nestled in his arms. He wanted to start every new day with her by his side. And he wanted to rediscover the light in her eyes every night when he held her in his arms, loving her.

He loved. He loved so much that his heart couldn’t be whole without Cassandra to complete him. And damn it all to hell and back, he might very well have thrown away his one chance for happiness.

No way. He had a marriage on paper, but he had to prove to Cassandra that they could have a marriage filled with love and happiness. Because he couldn’t lose her. She was the first woman he had ever loved. Now he had to convince her to give him another chance to show her how much.

###

After she left Marco standing alone, Cassandra did the one thing she knew that would bring her some measure of comfort. Rebuild her life. First she returned to her childhood home and packed a few of her own belongings. The clothes were no longer what she wanted to wear, but at least they were hers. Then she took a cab to the harbor and booked a modest hotel room using her private account.

The following Monday she had returned to the family’s corporate offices and resumed her position as Chief Operating Officer. After all, she’d bargained for this company role with her body and her future. She owed it to herself to put the
Barracuda
through the final required sea trials before Nelson Industries launched her.

She’d hoped that the work, the endless calculations, and design trials would fill the hole carving out her chest. Because she loved Marco. And today, on what should have been a mutual victory celebration, Cassandra rechecked her email in-box for an answer from Marco about the launching ceremony.

“Has he RSVP’d?” her father asked, poking his head into Cassandra’s office.

“No.” Cassandra pushed away from her desk and stood. “We’re launching the
Barracuda
with or without Marco Delgado.”

“He’s a stubborn fool, but you’re making the right decision.” Her father stretched out his hand. “Your mother is waiting in the car. We should go.”

Cassandra walked to him and linked her arm into his. “Thanks for understanding about Peter.”

“I’m the one who should be grateful.” He cleared his throat, patting her arm. “I’m sorry I manipulated you. I swear on your brother’s grave that I will never hurt you like that again.”

“I wish Justin was here.”

“So do I,” her father said gruffly, guiding her toward the foyer where her mother waited.

Within a half an hour, they arrived at the yacht club’s marina. After exiting their sleek black Mercedes Benz, Cassandra and her parents strolled across the pier.

Her coral dress’s hem flirted against her thighs when she stopped to greet one of the crew members. Disappointment slipped beneath her skin. She had half-hoped Marco would be standing on the pier. That he’d show his support, if not for her, at least for his new team.

“Looks like your helmsman decided to stay home today,” she said while they shook hands. “Mom, Dad. This guy is going to bring home the Platinum Cup in July.” And Marco would be a father soon afterward.

Their friends and colleagues, along with the rest of the crew, cheered.

Cassandra pressed her hand against her stomach, and cradled the small secret she had confirmed that morning with an early pregnancy test. Though she was just his wife on paper, Cassandra would have to go to Marco with this news.

But not today. This fine Wednesday afternoon would be about the
Barracuda.
Her personal issues would not overshadow her company’s greatest achievement in the catamaran design industry.

Still, she realized she should have told Marco about the cause of the crash weeks ago. But there were no do-overs. And she couldn’t spend the rest of her life swimming in a pool filled with regret. Not if she wanted to raise her child in a happy home; one full of possibilities and love.

One of her design engineers gave her a champagne bottle. “Time to launch this baby,” he said.

She welcomed the green bottle’s chill, brought on by ice and drops of condensation. “I can’t wait,” she said. Nor could she wait to hold her baby in her arms. The next generation of shipbuilders would be born in thirty-eight weeks. No matter what her child chose to do, Cassandra could be sure of one thing. She—or he—would never have to fight for approval.

“You’ve done an amazing job,” her father said.

“It was a team effort.”

Cassandra looked at the catamaran racer she had designed. Wind flapped the
Barracuda’s
one hundred and thirty one foot tall gold and white mainsail. Sun brightened the multi-colored flags and long rolls of ribbons flying behind the catamaran.

Her heart squeezed. Tears pricked behind her eyes—regret and sorrow mingling with pride and hope. When she had proposed her crazy plan to Marco, she had never factored falling in love with him. Now she didn’t know how she could live without him.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked, cupping Cassandra’s cheek. “Because you look like you’re about to cry.”

A huge lump formed in her throat. That her mother could read the conflict warring in her heart gave her the courage to move forward. “I’m fine. So let’s do this,” Cassandra said, then moved across the wooden pier and climbed the steps to the top of the platform that the upscale marina had erected for the launching ceremony. This should have been her and Marco’s moment. Instead, she stood alone.

Holding the bottle, she fought the desire to search for Marco in the crowd of well-wishers. Though she couldn’t escape him. Not when he was everywhere. He was in the sunshine reflecting off the
Barracuda’s
mainsail. He was in the sounds of jetties cutting across the water. He was in the wind sweeping salt and spray and sand through her unbound hair.

He was everywhere and everything inside her heart.

But none of that mattered if Marco couldn’t let her inside his. Resolved, Cassandra raised the champagne and prepared to smash it against the
Barracuda
only to see a lone figure walking toward her.

Chapter Fourteen