Marry Me

Chapter 1

Cassandra

“Really? I didn’t even know that cat had bristles on their penis, Mr. Attenborough,” I say with a forced smile. “You must certainly tell me more about your latest documentary with National Geographic––Oh will you look at that, I think my father’s calling for me. I’m terribly sorry, but please continue to enjoy the night and the hors d’oeuvres.”

Dad waves back at me again, this time, his teeth gritting as he smiles. 

Yes, I’m coming, Dad. Please just wait while I try to evade all these creepy old men from trying to talk with me.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate old people. Dad’s even close to retirement. But if I engage in one more awkward situation from some grandpa that’s trying to get into my pants…

“There’s my little girl!” Dad exclaims. “Gentlemen, meet my lovely and single daughter, Cassandra.”

Dad introduces me to five geezers, all who are either CEOs or royalties of some small European country. Their eyes gaze at me from head to foot.

“Dad, these men are making me uncomfortable,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry, Cassandra. I’d never let them touch you. But landing a deal here is going to be big for us,” he whispers back. “Now, if you can just please accompany them to the limo. They want to enjoy a bit of karaoke downtown. I’ll have my bodyguards follow you closely.”

I politely excuse myself from the conversation. The gentlemen seem to be taking it out on Dad, but I quickly run away before he calls me back.

Hell to the fucking no, Dad. Hell to the fucking no.

I slither my way out of the crowded ballroom of the St. Regis hotel. Every influential person in New York is in attendance as Dad launches another extension of his company, Forever Young.

I’ve lost my appetite with all these business deals Dad is trying to make me pull off, and my instincts are now looking for the nearest exit.

I finally find after a waiter points the direction, but to my dismay, there’s a group of socialites blocking the way.

The most recognizable of them is none other than Michael St. Dave, New York’s most sought after bachelor and son of Mark St. Dave. His bow-shaped lips, deepest ash-colored eyes, prominent jaw, and aquiline nose are sadly negated by his disheveled blond hair.

Around him are four blondes, probably daughters of a few of the businessmen here, fawning all over him. 

But after downing a glass of wine, Michael looks groggy and falls on the floor. The ladies all laugh and call for the nearest staff to get him into a VIP room.

I’d normally mind my own business until I recognize one of the young women—Dana, one of the most desperate social climbers of the Big Apple. And rumor has it that she has her eyes on the St. Dave family and wants to be a part of their illustrious family.

I’m almost at the exit but my conscience gets the better of me. If I let Michael go, you can bet a million dollars that Dana’s got a trap for him when he wakes up.

But am I seriously going to help that pig? If only I didn’t like his parents after helping out on the charity event I hosted last Christmas…

I approach Dana and Michael as he gets dragged by the staff. 

“What seems to be the matter here?” I ask as politely as I can.

“Cassandra, it’s always a pleasure to see you,” Dana greets. “But don’t worry. We’ve got this all under control. Your courteous staff has offered their services to help me drag my date somewhere more…shall we say ‘safe and intimate’?”

“Dana, that’s not going to happen under my watch. So please find another heir to conspire against before I tell everyone what happened last summer.”

Dana looks as if she wanted to say something back but hesitates as soon as she sees the crowd gathering around us. She smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

I hand the staff a couple of hundred dollars. “Take the night off, boys. I got this.” 

All four staff members look at me, confused until they see me lift Michael off the floor with an arm carry. 

“Oh by the way, where’s the private room you guys prepared?”

They simultaneously point me to the exit with shocked expressions. Clearly, they’ve never seen a woman who works out before.

Inside the private room, I lay Michael on the bed and make sure that he sleeps on his sides. I don’t want him to choke on his own vomit if his body suddenly regurgitates the alcohol in his stomach. It would be such a waste since he’s wearing one of Zegna’s latest black suits.

Strange, now that Michael’s silently sleeping, he slowly begins to look like the boy I met back in grade school. 

I lean over him as he sleeps. He’s like a prince in eternal slumber. I pity the princess who has to kiss him awake with the alcohol in his breath.

You were so cute when we were young, Michael. How did you end up as the black sheep of the St. Daves?

“Oh, Michael,” I whisper as I find myself drawing nearer and nearer to his lips.

But Michael suddenly stirs from his sleep. I try to pull away, but his massive, muscular arm comes out of nowhere and pulls me in toward him. 

The next thing I know, I fall over his sleeping body.