No Strings Attached [Cavanaugh Series]

 

---

Author’s note

Hello :)

This was is my first attempt at a story, which is now complete! However, it forms part of what I call the 'Cavanaugh Series', so go ahead and have a look at my other stories if you like this one! I have posted a few pictures of what the main characters look like in my mind, please feel free to have a look :)

http://s1321.photobucket.com/albums/u552/SweetSurrenderAFFO/Cavanaugh%20Series/

Please Read, Rate and Review! Enjoy ;)

---

 

No Strings Attached

Chapter One – Parting glances

“Mr. Cavanaugh! Mr. Cavanaugh!” the crowd called as they rushed after him, “How do you feel about the guilty verdict?” “Are you going to appeal?” “Will this damper your near-perfect success rate?”

The reporters struggled to find space close to him and shouted over each other. Trent made his way to the exit of the court, pushing open both doors as he sauntered through, looking every inch like the cut-throat shark lawyer he was known to be. Paparazzi followed in tow, drawn in by his magnetism and celebrity status.

He stopped at the top of the stairs and held up his hand to silence them. They all looked at him in anticipation, and he adjusted his tie casually and slowly raked a hand through his black hair, letting the expectancy at his response built up. A slow, lopsided smile curved across his lips, but the look in his eyes was stern and fiery. He looked at the cameras glaring into his face.

“Today’s verdict has not come as a surprise, but there are definite grounds for an appeal. I will not stop,” he emphasised each word and then paused for dramatic effect, “until my client has been cleared of all charges. Those responsible for this slander campaign against him will be held liable.” A string of further questions ensued, and he grumbled “No further comment,” waving off the questions as he put on his sunglasses and made his way through the reluctantly parting crowd.

He jogged down the stairs and hailed a cab, which stopped next to him almost instantly with a screech. He threw his briefcase onto the backseat and drew the door closed behind him with a loud bang. “Fuck!” he hissed vehemently through gritted teeth and punched the back of the seat in front of him. The cab driver looked at him with wide eyes, and Trent grumbled an address while settling down in his seat, glaring out of the window at the passing cars and buildings, his hands angrily clenching into fists by his sides.

---

“...and I don’t understand why it is so difficult for them to understand. I mean, I don’t ask for much, I just want them to understand!”

Merin stifled a yawn as she listened to her patient ranting about her life. She offered the lady a tissue when she started crying, and was relieved to hear the ting of the clock indicating the end of the session. She made sure to contain the patient and offered appropriate closure to the session, but breathed a deep sigh of relief when the patient left. Some just took it completely out of her, especially if they were stuck in that victim mentality, expecting somebody to ‘fix’ them. She looked at her diary and smiled with relief when she saw her next patient was one she was at least making progress with.

“I am just going to the cafe around the corner, Trish, I will be back before one o’clock,” she said as she grabbed her handbag and coat and made her way to the door, deciding to take lunch out instead of asking her assistant to buy lunch for her. Her assistant peered nervously from behind the counter.

“Can I get you anything?” Merin asked as she put on her coat.

“N-no, Dr. Scott,” she stuttered, clearing her throat, “You mother phoned when you were in your last session, and I said I will inform you as soon as I can.” Ingrid Scott had a way of making her daughter’s assistants crumble with anxiety.

“Thank you, Trish, I will phone her later,” she said, glancing back at her assistant and added, “Please do take lunch today.” She waited for a reluctant nod and then closed the door behind her and made her way to the elevator, pressing the button impatiently. It was not her day. She knew that there would only be one reason why her mother would be phoning her, and she was not interested in another Harvard-or-Yale yuppie narcissist, boasting about his accomplishments, never realising that nobody gives a fuck.

Merin decided to walk to the cafe and hugged her coat tightly around her to shield against the icy cold. She held her phone and checked her emails and messages, not paying much attention to the hustle and bustle around her. She was just about to send an email when her phone started ringing and she accidentally hit the Answer button instead of Send. It was her mother. And it was too late. She sighed and held the phone to her ear.

“Hello, mother,” she said, attempting to sound enthusiastic, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Darling!” she chirped from the other end, “Your father and I are in town, and we would just love to see you!” Merin cringed internally.

“Wow, that is a surprise. What are you doing here? You always travel to the South when it gets this cold.”

“Oh, something came up that your father had to attend to, and I decided to join him to see how you have been. It’s been too long!”

Not by accident, Merin thought. “I would love to see you,” she replied instead, noting the slight emphasis on you. Her mother did not notice, and excitedly continued, giving Merin instructions to their presidential penthouse hotel suite.

Merin settled down at a small table in the corner of the cafe, ordering a coffee and a soup, wanting to warm up after her brisk walk in the cold. She settled into reading a scholarly article about the side-effects of psychiatric medication, sipping gingerly on her coffee.

She was drawn away from the article when there was a commotion outside, noticing a handful of photographers snapping away at a pair getting out of the back of a sleek, black car. The guy had his arm protectively around the shoulders of the lady, who could have been his mother, but bore no resemblance. The shop owner, a heavyset French chef, scurried outside and ushered away the paparazzi, shouting profanities in French until they were all at a safe distance.

Chef Don came in and apologised profusely, slight bows and excessive hand gestures included, as he backed away into the kitchen. A younger waiter burst through the swinging doors a few seconds later, inconspicuously standing guard at the door.

Merin focused her attention on the pair seated at the table, observing the man as he helped the lady out of her coat, then took off his own. They were both immaculately dressed, oozing sophistication and wealth. Merin recognised it right away, it was nothing new to her. The man was comforting the lady, his hand resting on hers and speaking softly as his eyes dark eyes bore intensely into hers. She nodded and discreetly wiped her nose with a tissue, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. The man leaned back in his chair, impatiently moving his hands through his hair, and pulling out a phone, angrily pressing numbers and quietly hissing into his phone, throwing it down on the table when he finished his angry conversation.

He looked dazed for a second and only snapped out of his reverie when a young, petite waitress brought a whiskey and a pot of tea. The waitress was standing unnecessarily close to him, brushing against him when she laid down the drinks, fluttering her eye lashes at him. A knowing smirk crossed his face, but his eyes gave nothing away. The lady returned from the bathroom and the waitress left reluctantly when the two of them immediately continued their intense conversation.

Merin looked at her wrist watch and realised with a start that she had lost track of time. She hurriedly stood up, packing away her belongings and putting on her coat. She was buttoning up the last button and suddenly felt a chill running up her spine. Looking up, she was met with the dark, intense eyes of the stranger sitting across the room. His expression would be close to something resembling shock, and when Merin licked her lips nervously, his eyes immediately settling on her lips. Her pulse picked up a beat and then his gaze was gone, looking into the eyes of the lady as if what had just happened was all in her head. You’re imagining things, she scolded herself mentally and left money on the table as she made her way out of the cafe.  

Her breath caught in her chest from the cold. She started towards her office, but somehow found herself turning around and walking up to the adolescent waiter who had just chased away the paparazzi again, unsuccessfully trying to mimic Chef Don.

“Excuse me, who are they so interested in?” she asked, blowing warm air into her hands and shifting her weight on her feet, not wanting to stand still in the cold. He eyed her suspiciously and apparently decided that she was trustworthy. He nodded his head towards the cafe.

“That Cavanaugh guy and that rich Roux lady. Her husband was found guilty today– hey!!” he rushed away and stood in front of the camera, to which the reporter held up his hands in defence, only to snap a few more photos with the camera held in his raised hand. Merin rolled her eyes and rushed back to her office building, and settled back into a much more satisfying and productive afternoon of work.

---

Merin played anxiously with her diamond ear ring while chewing on her bottom lip. She looked out of the window at the passing lights and cars, dreading going to her parents. They hit a bit of traffic and she breathed out a sigh of relief, reaching for her clutch and fishing out her phone to message her mother.

Bit of traffic. Be there ASAP. x

She stared at her phone for a bit, but when she did not get a response, she opened the browser and self-consciously Googled “Cavanaugh”. When she did not get any satisfying results, she tried “Cavanaugh Roux guilty”. Suddenly her phone was washed with images of this attractive stranger, either accompanied by what looked like various clients, or attractive girls hanging on his arm at events. She could not find anything personal about this “Trent Cavanaugh”, other a few gossip blogs and information about the firm for which he worked. She sighed and clicked away all the windows, returning her phone to her clutch as they pulled up in front of her parents’ hotel. It was one of their latest additions to their empire, which is probably why her father was here on business.

She thanked the cab driver and paid him, walking up to the luxurious front doors of the hotel, which were held open by a doorman who greeted her by name, even though she had never been there or seen him before. She made her way to the elevators, her heels echoing loudly through the large foyer. A pristine, petite girl joined Merin at the elevators and smiled politely at her.

“Miss Scott?” she asked, and her smile brightened when she received a nod in reply. “Hello, my name is Madeleine, your parents asked me to escort you to their suite once you arrived.”

Merin gave an appropriate response and they both stepped into to the elevator, silently making their way to the top floor. The doors opened and Madeleine followed Merin into the equally luxurious, but smaller foyer of her parents’ suite. She heard laughter coming from behind the closed doors and her eyes narrowed when she did not recognise all the voices.

“May I take your coat, Miss Scott?” she asked and then she eased Merin’s coat off of her shoulders, quickly going to the closet to hang it, and then escorting Merin to the front door. She opened it almost soundlessly and cleared her throat, announcing “Merin Scott has arrived,” holding open the door for Merin.

Merin stepped inside and plastered a smile on her face as she walked towards her parents, accompanied by another elderly couple and a man her age. Great, she thought, keeping her smile in place. She kissed her mothers’ cheeks, receiving one of those there-couldn’t-possibly-be-more-space-between-us hugs that she has grown accustomed to in her childhood. Her father kissed her cheek, took her hand and introduced his guest.

“Sweetheart, this is Gerard and Josephine Houghton. This is their son, Evan Houghton,” and he practically put her hand in Evan’s. Merin smiled politely and made the necessary eye contact, informing them of what a pleasure it is to meet them and asking the appropriate, expected questions to spur small talk. She felt instantly bored. Madeleine presented them with a tray holding champagne, and Merin had to hold herself back from downing the contents of the glass.

As expected, the remainder of the conversations was filled by either Evan talking about his involvement at his alma mater and his recent success at a tennis tournament, or the elderly couples talking about his accomplishments while Evan feigned modesty. Merin forced herself to listen to their conversations, stifling a yawn here and there, and was thankful when it did not take very long before dinner was served. As expected, she was seated next to Evan, with her parents at the heads of the table, as far away as possible from one another. She envied them in that moment.

The evening progressed smoothly, but uninterestingly. She knew why her parents planned this blind date: he was attractive, only two years older than her, had a similar upbringing and his parents clearly thought that it was time for him to settle down. They would probably have 2.4 babies if all went according to plan. By the end of the meal they all retired to the living room again, and when Evan openly asked her if she would like to go for drinks, she felt obliged to accept the offer, hiding the grimace from her face.

She greeted her parents and the Houghtons, actually pleased at the ease with which she was able to escape her parents’ lair. She has received enough criticisms and chidings from them to last her a lifetime, and did not want to stay long enough for them to add to the pile. Her father has never even told her that he loved her.

Merin pretended to be interested when Evan spoke about his work (a company he had taken over from his father) and about all their recent successes and setbacks, which he apparently singlehandedly solved. He had not asked her a single thing about herself. Not what she is interested in, what she does in her spare time...nothing. She just sat and sipped her cocktail, listening to him speak.

It did not take long for Merin to find an opening to call their evening to an end, even if it was at the expense of exchanging phone numbers. Surely he would not call her. He may be a brat, but could he be that stupid? They had zero chemistry. This idea was cut short when he cupped her face and kissed her ‘passionately’ before they parted.

---

 Merin just settled into the cab when her phone rang.

“I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t give me the wrong number!” Evan said, laughing on the other side of the line.

“Why would I do that?” Merin asked, humour in her voice. If only you knew!

“Why, indeed! I would love to see you again,” he said, sounding insecure. Merin cringed and was torn between cutting off all hope and easing his insecurities.

“Me too,” she said, and slapped her hand to her forehead.

“Great! I am going away on business, but can I call you when I get back?” he sounded enthusiastic.

“Y–yes, sure,” Merin stuttered, “I am turning in for the night. Thanks again, Goodnight,” she said abruptly.

“Goodnight!”

Merin grumbled to herself as she made her way to the elevators and took it to the top floor. Her phone rang again and she rolled her eyes.

“Hello, mother,” she said dryly.

“Darling! How did it go? Did you kiss?”

It was boring, dry and humourless, she actually wanted to say. “It went fine,” she said instead, not willing to elaborate. For not being around much when Merin was growing up, her mother sure took an unhealthy interest in her adult daughter’s sex life.

“Listen, I am exhausted, I am going to bed now,” she lied a second time that evening.

“Oh...ok, darling. I will speak to you soon.”

And that was that.

Merin stepped out of the elevator and raised her eyebrows at the loud music and loud voices. She took out her keys and peered into the open door of the apartment curiously. Suddenly there was a guy in front of her, clearly drunk and disorientated, and he pulled her into the apartment.

“Hey, baby,” he slurred, “I did not see you here before... You must be an angel, falling out of the sky like that!”

Merin pushed him away and then gasped when she looked behind the drunken buffoon, meeting the familiar dark eyes of the tall, dark stranger she had seen earlier that day.

 

---