Not many people walk down the streets of New York drunk, especially in the middle of the day. They usually rush along the sidewalks and cross the streets, trying to race with time to earn more money. But not Cassandra. She was taking her precious time wandering around, struggling to walk in a straight line. Trying to keep her smile to herself, she looked around her, wondering why these people wore poker faces as they talked on their phones while walking briskly down the street. She was thankful she was self-employed-well, as what she would call it. Cassandra took a deep breath, the taste of beer still lingering in her mouth. She had been drinking since lunch time for no apparent reason. She squeezed her eyes for a better vision as she slowly walked while trying hard not to drop on the ground every time a passerby bumped into her. She felt her way to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She shouldn't have drank that much, she thought. Her hands were getting numb, her feet losing their strength. I'm going to faint right here if I don't find somewhere to rest, she murmured to herself. Hope abandoned her when she saw the long crowded street and even her blurred sight was a hindrance. She knew the street very well and she was pretty aware that there was not a place to rest. Fine, I'll sit anywhere then. Squinting one eye, she walked toward the nearest store and dropped on the bottom step, trying to keep her head high. If she dropped it any lower, she'd definitely throw up right there and then. Her phone started ringing again. She didn't answer. She knew it was her father and he had been asking to see her since last week. She thought she should call him tomorrow, once she was back to her sober self. Cassandra didn't have a problem really-she was just like that. She did anything that came to her mind without thinking. When she had ordered her first bottle, she reasoned she wanted to celebrate her upcoming exhibit. When the second one came, she thought she was celebrating life. On the succeeding bottles, thoughts of celebration flew out the window. She stood up after her head cleared a little bit. She needed a cup of coffee, and she knew just the place for a perfect one. The rest must have done something good for she found it less difficult to find her way to the coffee shop. "My head is throbbing, I need a strong one," she told the lady behind the counter the moment she entered the shop. "What would you like?" Cassandra looked up at the menu, the letters merging into one. "Just...fix me something strong." "Okay, one really strong cappuccino coming up," the lady smiled. She fumbled in her purse for some coins, handed the lady a handful and said, "Just get the exact amount. I have trouble counting at the moment," The lady looked at her curiously but did as she asked. She handed Cassandra the rest of the coins and said, "I'll serve you your coffee if you want." She must have noticed her customer struggling to stay on her feet. "Thanks. That will be great." Cassandra went to the nearest table and made herself comfortable, resting her chin on her hand. "Cassandra Anders?" a male voice said over her. "Hmm?" was all she could muster. She sensed some movement across the table from her and when she peered through her heavy lids, she noticed that a man was sitting at the empty chair facing her. "I'm Philip Strindberg and I need to talk to you." "Come back at a good time," she slurred and closed her eyes once again. "Now is the best time," the voice was now etched with irritation so she opened her eyes once again to look at the man, her bluish gray ones meeting his blue ones. "Best time for what?" she asked, not really in the mood for a chat. "To give you an offer you surely won't resist." She snorted, "And what is that?" "To be my wife." The alcohol that had been flowing like crazy through her veins stopped and drained down her head as she looked up at the handsome stranger in disbelief.
Chapter 1 1
Chapter 1
Not many people walk down the streets of New York drunk, especially in the middle of the day. They usually rush along the sidewalks and cross the streets, trying to race with time to earn more money.
But not Cassandra.
She was taking her precious time wandering around, struggling to walk in a straight line.
Trying to keep her smile to herself, she looked around her, wondering why these people wore poker faces as they talked on their phones while walking briskly down the street. She was thankful she was self-employed-well, as what she would call it.
Cassandra took a deep breath, the taste of beer still lingering in her mouth. She had been drinking since lunch time for no apparent reason. She squeezed her eyes for a better vision as she slowly walked while trying hard not to drop on the ground every time a passerby bumped into her. She felt her way to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She shouldn't have drank that much, she thought. Her hands were getting numb, her feet losing their strength.
I'm going to faint right here if I don't find somewhere to rest, she murmured to herself.
Hope abandoned her when she saw the long crowded street and even her blurred sight was a hindrance. She knew the street very well and she was pretty aware that there was not a place to rest.
Fine, I'll sit anywhere then. Squinting one eye, she walked toward the nearest store and dropped on the bottom step, trying to keep her head high. If she dropped it any lower, she'd definitely throw up right there and then. Her phone started ringing again. She didn't answer. She knew it was her father and he had been asking to see her since last week. She thought she should call him tomorrow, once she was back to her sober self.
Cassandra didn't have a problem really-she was just like that. She did anything that came to her mind without thinking. When she had ordered her first bottle, she reasoned she wanted to celebrate her upcoming exhibit. When the second one came, she thought she was celebrating life. On the succeeding bottles, thoughts of celebration flew out the window.
She stood up after her head cleared a little bit. She needed a cup of coffee, and she knew just the place for a perfect one. The rest must have done something good for she found it less difficult to find her way to the coffee shop.
"My head is throbbing, I need a strong one," she told the lady behind the counter the moment she entered the shop.
"What would you like?"
Cassandra looked up at the menu, the letters merging into one. "Just...fix me something strong."
"Okay, one really strong cappuccino coming up," the lady smiled.
She fumbled in her purse for some coins, handed the lady a handful and said, "Just get the exact amount. I have trouble counting at the moment,"
The lady looked at her curiously but did as she asked. She handed Cassandra the rest of the coins and said, "I'll serve you your coffee if you want." She must have noticed her customer struggling to stay on her feet.
"Thanks. That will be great." Cassandra went to the nearest table and made herself comfortable, resting her chin on her hand.
"Cassandra Anders?" a male voice said over her.
"Hmm?" was all she could muster. She sensed some movement across the table from her and when she peered through her heavy lids, she noticed that a man was sitting at the empty chair facing her.
"I'm Philip Strindberg and I need to talk to you."
"Come back at a good time," she slurred and closed her eyes once again.
"Now is the best time," the voice was now etched with irritation so she opened her eyes once again to look at the man, her bluish gray ones meeting his blue ones.
"Best time for what?" she asked, not really in the mood for a chat.
"To give you an offer you surely won't resist."
She snorted, "And what is that?"
"To be my wife."
The alcohol that had been flowing like crazy through her veins stopped and drained down her head as she looked up at the handsome stranger in disbelief.
*****
Chapter 1 1
11/08/2024
Chapter 2 2
11/08/2024
Chapter 3 3
11/08/2024
Chapter 4 4
11/08/2024
Chapter 5 5
11/08/2024
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