Almost Lost. Блейк Пирс
nodded as he continued.
“When Dylan was born, tourism in this area was starting to boom, so I handed in my notice—at that stage I was the site manager at a shipyard in Cornwall—and bought my first boat. The second followed soon, and today I own a fleet of sixteen boats of various shapes and sizes. Motorboats, sailboats, paddleboards—and the jewel in my crown is a new charter yacht which is popular with corporate clients.”
“That’s amazing,” Cassie said.
“It’s been a fantastic journey. The business has given me so much. A comfortable income, a wonderful life, and a beautiful home, which I designed according to a dream I’d always had—although thankfully the architect toned down the wilder elements, or the house would probably have fallen over the cliff by now.”
Cassie laughed.
“Your business must take a lot of hard work,” she observed.
“Oh, yes.” Putting his glass down, Ryan stared out at the sea. “As a business owner, you make constant sacrifices. You work extremely long hours. I seldom have a weekend off; today I asked my manager to stand in for me because I was meeting you. I think that’s why—”
He turned toward her and met her gaze, his face serious.
“I think that’s why my marriage eventually failed.”
Cassie felt a tingle of anticipation that he was opening up to her about it. She nodded in sympathy, hoping he would keep on talking, and after a while, he did.
“When the children were younger, it was easier for Trish, my wife, to understand that I had to put work first. But as they grew older and became more independent, she started wanting me to—well, to replace their presence in her life, I guess. She demanded emotional support, time, and attention from me at an excessive level. I found it draining, and it started causing conflict. She was a strong woman. That was what first drew me to her, but people can change, and I think she did.”
“That sounds very sad,” Cassie said.
Her glass was almost empty, and Ryan refilled it before topping off his own.
“It was devastating. I can’t explain what a tumultuous time it’s been. When you love someone, you don’t let go easily, and when love goes, you search nonstop for it. Hoping, praying, that you can get back what you valued so highly. I tried, Cassie. I tried with everything I had, and when it became clear it wasn’t working, it felt like a defeat.”
Cassie found herself leaning toward him.
“How scary that can happen.”
“You picked the right word. It’s terrifying. It left me feeling inadequate, and very much adrift. I don’t take commitment lightly. To me, it means forever. When Trish left, I had to redefine my own impression of who I was.”
Cassie blinked hard. She could hear the anguish in his voice. The pain he was going through sounded fresh and raw. It must take immense courage, she thought, to hide it under a joking and lighthearted exterior.
She was about to tell Ryan how much she admired him for the strength he was showing in adversity, but stopped herself just in time, realizing that this comment was far too forward. She barely knew Ryan, and had no right to make such personal observations to an employer after only a couple of hours in his company.
What was she thinking—if she was thinking at all?
She decided that the wine was going to her head and that she must choose her words carefully. Just because Ryan was so good-looking, intelligent, and kind was no reason to behave like a star-struck teenager around him. It had to stop, because she would only end up embarrassing herself dreadfully, or worse.
“I guess I’d better let you go to bed now,” Ryan said, putting his empty glass down. “You must be exhausted after the drive, and meeting my two hooligans. Thank you for joining me out here. It means a lot to be able to speak to you like this.”
“It’s been an enjoyable end to the day, and such a lovely way to relax,” Cassie agreed.
She didn’t feel relaxed at all. She felt amped up by the intimacy of their conversation. As they stood up and headed inside, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he had shared with her.
Back in her room, she took a quick look at her messages, feeling grateful that this house was connected to the Internet. At her last workplace, there had been no cell signal, and it had led to her becoming completely isolated. Until it happened, she hadn’t realized how scary it was not to be able to communicate with the outside world when she needed to.
On her phone, Cassie saw there were a couple of hellos, and one or two memes from friends back in the US.
Then she saw one other message had been sent earlier in the evening. This one was from an unfamiliar UK cell phone number, which raised alarm bells when she saw it, and as she opened it, she felt cold fear clench her stomach.
“Be careful,” the short message read.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cassie had expected to sleep well in her cozy room with the only sound the wash of surf outside. She was sure she would have, if it hadn’t been for that disconcerting message, sent from an unknown number while she had been sitting out on the verandah with Ryan.
Her first panicked thought was that it concerned her ex-employer’s murder trial; that somehow she’d been implicated and people were hunting for her. She tried to check the latest news, but found to her frustration that Ryan had turned the Wi-Fi off already.
She tossed and turned, worrying about what it could mean and who had sent it, trying to reassure herself that it was probably a wrong number and had been meant for somebody else.
After a restless night, she managed to drift into an uneasy sleep, and was woken by the sound of her alarm. She grabbed her phone and found to her relief that the signal was back.
Before she got out of bed, she searched for news on the trial.
Cassie learned that a postponement had been requested and it was due to resume in two weeks. Researching more carefully, she discovered this was because the defense team needed more time to contact additional witnesses.
That made her feel sick with fear.
She looked again at the strange message, “Be careful,” wondering if she should reply to it and ask what it meant, but sometime during the night the sender must have blocked her because she found she couldn’t send a message back.
In desperation, she tried to call the number.
It cut off immediately. Her calls had clearly been blocked, too.
Cassie sighed in frustration. Cutting off communication felt more like harassment than a genuine warning. She was going to go with it being a wrong number, which the sender had realized too late and blocked her as a result.
Feeling marginally comforted, she got out of bed and went to wake the children.
Dylan was already up—Cassie guessed he must have gone cycling. Hoping he wouldn’t think it an intrusion, she went in, straightened up his duvet and pillows, and collected his discarded clothes.
His shelves were crammed with a huge variety of books, including quite a few on cycling. Two goldfish swam in a tank on top of the bookcase, and on a big table near the window was a rabbit hutch. A gray rabbit was eating a breakfast of lettuce and Cassie watched it happily for a minute.
Leaving his room, she tapped on Madison’s door.
“Give me ten minutes,” the young girl replied sleepily, so Cassie headed for the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.
There, she saw that Ryan had left a wad of money under the salt shaker with a handwritten note, “I’ve gone to work. Take the kids out and have fun! I’ll be back this evening.”
Cassie put a round of bread in the pretty floral toaster and filled the kettle. As she was busy making coffee, Madison walked in, wrapped in a pink robe and yawning.
“Good morning,” Cassie greeted