Page 3 of Worthy: Cassius and Faith 3

After the excruciating silence of the ride, I was relieved when the city came into view. Cassius steered down Massachusetts Avenue to Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood, an upscale shopping and business district. He turned onto Newbury Street and parked in front of an impressive building—The Stratum Hotel. I’d heard of it; it was the nicest hotel in Boston. The glass-front building soared up to meet the sky, and a doorman wearing a tuxedo waited at the entrance.

“You live at a hotel?” I asked.

Cassius shrugged. “I own it; I keep the penthouse for myself. They take care of everything for me—it’s easier than a private home. I have several of those as well, just not in Boston.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, even though I didn’t. Who owned multiple private homes and luxury hotels? Who the fuck was this guy?

The doorman opened my door and then bowed. “Good morning, Ms. Kensington.”

I blinked at him. “How did you know my name?”

“It’s my job to recognize our guests.” The man smiled as Cassius joined us, tossing him the keys. “Mr. Blackwood. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Gage. Is everything prepared?”

Gage’s smile broadened. “Yes, Mr. Blackwood. The concierge has taken care of everything.”

“Excellent.” Cassius turned to me. “Shall we?”

I nodded and followed him inside, wishing I looked less wild. I felt woefully out of place in the fancy hotel. The Stratum’s lobby was immaculate and overwhelming, with marble floors, marble columns, and teak woodwork accents. Cassius’s dress shoes echoed across the stone as my cheap flip-flops click-clacked behind him. A well-dressed couple headed toward us. The woman wore one of those expensive-as-hell cloth skirt suits—Chanel?—and toted an enormous Louis Vuitton bag, her nose stuck in the air. Her lip curled in distaste as she noticed my Old Navy T-shirt and leggings, last night’s mascara still adorning my face.

Cassius must’ve noticed her expression because he hung back and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

The woman’s eyebrow raised a fraction, and she gave us a smug look as she passed.

Cassius stopped and faced her. “Excuse me, but what are you smirking at?”

If she was surprised that he addressed her, she didn’t let on. “Nothing,” she said, in a tone that indicated it was hardly nothing. “I just didn’t realize The Stratum had gotten so… inclusive.” She eyed me up and down.

“What are you, guests at the hotel?” Cassius asked.

Her male counterpart, who wore a suit and a very stupid-looking cap, puffed his chest out. “Yes, and we’re staying in the luxury suite.”

Cassius grinned at them. “Not anymore, you’re not.” He snapped his fingers, and an employee hustled to us from behind the desk. “Please check these guests out immediately,” Cassius ordered.

“Yes, Mr. Blackwood,” the employee said.

“Excuse me?” The man in the cap asked. “We’re not checking out?—”

“Yes, you most certainly are. I’m Cassius Blackwood, the CEO of Blackwood Enterprises. I own this hotel, and I have a zero-tolerance policy for new-money, arrogant assholes. Nice cap, by the way. See yourselves the fuck out, or we’ll charge you for another night.” He turned to me and then held out his hand. “Darling? Are you ready?”

I nodded, then gratefully took his hand. I couldn’t resist leaning toward the woman as Cassius dragged me away. “I guess the hotel’s not that inclusive, after all,” I whispered.

The woman pressed her lips together into a thin, white line. She looked like smoke was about to pour out of her ears.

Fine with me.

Cassius kept his hand clamped over mine until we reached the elevator, where he released me. He punched in a security code, then coolly appraised me as we rose to the top floor. “What are you doing to me, Faith Elise Kensington?”

“You know my full name?” I blurted out.

“I read the contract.” Cassius crossed his massive arms against his chest.

“I didn’t see your middle name,” I said, a bit wistfully.

“Edward.”

I nodded. “Cassius Edward Blackwood. That sounds about right.”

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