Page 12 of Second Chance Christmas

He made a noise of agreement, stood back, holding the door open wide.

She crossed the threshold and looked around, taking in the stunning setting with wide-eyes before turning back to the door and flicking off the light switch. “Well?” She said, into the darkness.

Leonardo then was right by her, the sound of his clothes familiar and pulse quickening.

“Hang on, Cassie-May.”

“Cassidy.”

He flicked on the light switch.

Her eyes jolted to his.

“Let’s have a drink first,” he said. “Catch up.”

She startled, eyes wide. “But why?”

“Well, for one thing, because it’s been six years and I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.”

She bit down into her lip, as Leonardo crossed the room and lifted a prestige bottle of Champagne from a cooler, pouring two half-glasses.

“It’s been six years. How can I possibly catalogue that for you?”

“I’m happy with the Cliff’s notes,” he said, shrugging. “And you must have questions about my life.”

“Your life is an open book,” she pointed out. “Your every move is reported in the British tabloids, and often times the broadsheets too.”

“And you resent that?”

Damn his perceptiveness. She tilted her chin defiantly. “I didn’t love hearing about you, no.”

“Because you were angry with me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’d do anything to take back that night, like I told you at the time—,”

“Yes, well, that’s a sweet thought, but you can’t, and it’s ancient history now, anyway. No sense talking about it.”

He expelled a frustrated breath. “Let’s talk about you then,” he offered, passing her the champagne.

Danger sirens blared. “What do you want to know?” She asked, pretending she was fine with his proposition. She gripped the stem of the flute tightly though.

“You got married,” he said, inviting an explanation she in no way wanted to give.

“Very good, Leonardo. The thing is, you have to have been married to get divorced, and as we’ve already discussed my divorce—,”

“Stop,” he held a hand up in the air and she flinched, her fight or flight instincts activating before she could think rationally. How many times had Grant raised a hand to her and slapped her, or punched her? Sometimes, it had been a slap to the face, and those had been the nicest, in a way. The most tolerable. Far better than when he punched her in the kidneys, or the back.

She took an involuntary step away and Leonardo frowned, dropping his hand instantly. But of course, he hadn’t been about to touch her. It was a simple gesture to implore her to stop talking, nothing more sinister. Leonardo, for all his faults, would never, ever strike a woman. Or a man, for that matter. He was not remotely violent.

Embarrassed and frustrated that even then, Grant’s conditioning had the power to affect her, she gulped back her champagne in one go. “You’re right, a drink is a great idea.” She thrust the glass back at him and after a slight pause, he took it and moved to the table, topping it up. His own remained untouched.

“What happened to you, Cassidy?” His voice was quiet, his eyes intent, as they bore into her own. She shuddered, taking the drink.

“Nothing,” she muttered. “I grew up.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Are you happy?”

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