There was no missing the stark look of indignation that bloomed sharply on her features. âYou told me not to?â The laugh that slipped between her lips void of humor at the mere idea that her friend could think that she could simply cling to what sheâd been told over what was necessary for some sense of diplomacy within her own life. âAre you serious right now, Cass?â She sat up a little straighter, the bottle sheâd held put down on the floor beside the sofa. It was one thing, for her best friend to consider anything sheâd said to have been worthy advice, and another entirely to expect that it would have so heavily swayed any choices made. âYouâre right, you donât tell me to do anything. Anything you can and might ever say to me, is only ever going to be little more than advice, Cassidy. Iâm under no obligation to do as you tell me for any single fucking reason beyond it being in line with the choice I decide to make.âÂ
Lips pursed tightly and she nodded, the bitter sense of a slap in the face carving itâs way across her features in light of the lecture that she certainly didnât need to fucking hear. âIs that what you think this is for me?â Where she could usually hold onto indifference and the lacking sense of feeling anything beyond self-depreciation, it boiled beneath her skin and the once fiery brunette found her ground again. âYou think Iâm doing this for fun?â She balked, âUnbelievable, you must honestly think Iâm just that fucking stupid.â The pillow sheâd held thrown across the sofa as she stood up and moved towards the kitchen before better thought stopped her. âYou know, whatever your problem is with this â thatâs your problem and it gives you absolutely no fucking right to turn your god damn nose up at me for whatever I have to do to make it through the fucking day.âÂ
It was numbing â numbing and not something that she was particularly proud about, not like her job at the Luxure. That; she could freely claim pride to, love for and while the money there was more than enough to satisfy mostly anyone, it didnât put a dent in the looming noose tied around her neck, tightening with every new visit from another Vittori lapdog. âIf you had to shoot yourself in the foot to get ahead in anything, Iâd be there for you to aim the god damn bullet, not chewing you the fuck out for doing what you had to. So if youâve really got that much of an issue, you know where the door is.â
âYouâre not stupid, but youâre acting pretty fucking stupid right now,â Cass shot back. âThis is a much more fun way to make money than anything else you could do, right? If you need the money, Nic, we can figure something out. Iâll help you figure something out.â There came the naivety, a direct outcome of never having had to work for a day in her entire life before it changed forever. Cassidy couldnât even begin to think of logical ways that her friend could come up with enough money to pay off whatever loan she so desperately needed to be free from.
âTurning my nose up? Are you serious?â Her words dripped with incredulity, and Cassâ feet set her on a path to the kitchen before she could think to stop them. âIâve been doing this since I was fucking fifteen. Iâm not turning my nose up at this. Thatâs not what this is about.â This would be different if Cassidy had chosen her path - then her reaction would likely be focused only on jealousy, and it would be much more than a spark. But she hadnât chosen this, she hadnât chosen any of it, and she knew all too well the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. âPlease, Nic.â Cass had done entirely too much begging lately, and she got a sour taste in her mouth every time she did so. Small hands grasped the edge of the countertop and she leaned over it slightly, doing her best to try to catch her friendâs eye. âItâs not just my problem. You donât know what happens there. You donât know Mateo.â She was panicking now, anger pushed to the side to allow fear to creep in. She couldnât let Nic do this. She couldnât.
âYou wonât just be shooting yourself in the foot, Nic. Thereâs no turning back from this. I donât want you to have to--â She didnât want her friend to have to experience half of the awful shit that she had been through, living a nightmare for almost half of her life. Cass knew that Nic didnât have a particularly strong fondness for living in the first place, which made this even worse. She had to tell her; even if it didnât make a difference, Nic had to know why Cassidy was so vehemently opposed to the choice she was making. For the first time in a long time, Cass pulled out her phone, opened Google, and typed her own full name into the search engine. As expected, the first post that popped up was an article from the New York Times dated September 23, 2006. She held up the phone and turned it around so Nic could see the screen, the headline DAUGHTER OF PROLIFIC BUSINESSMAN VANISHES accompanied by her freshman year class portrait.