Blaze's Second Chance (The Sinclair Men)
By: Sam CrescentNot a good way to start the new year at work. Her hands shook every time she spoke to him.
At lunch time Cassie got the biggest shock of her life.
“Hi, I’m Francesca. I’ve got an appointment to see my fiancé.” Francesca, the gorgeous woman who’d been on the phone the night of the party.
“Yes, which one is your fiancé?” Cassie asked, dreading the answer.
“I’ll deal with this, Miss Walker.” Cassie gasped as the man of her dreams finally came to the reception area. He’d not even spoken her name.
“Sweetheart, you haven’t told anyone our good news.” Francesca purred as she went to Blaze’s side, kissing him full on the lips.
Cassie was going to be sick.
“What good news?” she whispered. Deep in her gut she already knew the answer.
“I’m engaged to be married.” She heard Blaze speak. Cassie didn’t want to hear it. Before she’d left for Christmas, he’d been inside her body. They’d fucked on his desk. Was Blaze Sinclair one of those men who used and forgot women?
Cassie watched him place a reassuring hand around his girlfriend. How could she have been so stupid to think he’d care about her?
“That’s not the only good news. We’re having a baby.” Francesca rammed the nail into Cassie’s coffin.
Cassie looked at the couple before her and felt like she was going to pass out. There was no way she could live through this pain, the excruciating emotional pain.
She gathered her purse and coat. For the first time since working for the Sinclair men she was going out to lunch rather than staying in. Cassie had to get away from the building.
“Blaze, is something wrong with the woman? She looks awfully pale.”
Cassie couldn’t believe she’d any colour at all. Was this how other women reacted when they realised they’d been used?
“Congratulations. I’ll be back in an hour,” Cassie said. The words were hard for her to speak, the lump in her throat painful. What else could she do?
She walked out of the office doors, not caring there wasn’t anyone to cover her on the front desk.
For the first time in her life she’d been used by a man. The very man she’d been in love with since she met him. She heard the commotion and glanced back to watch.
“Go to my office, Francesca.” Blaze pushed his fiancée away. He rushed toward her, and Cassie turned and carried on walking. She didn’t want anyone to witness her humiliation. The taunts and nasty comments came back to haunt her. How could any man – especially one as sexy and handsome as Blaze Sinclair – want anything to do with fat, ugly Cassie Walker? She kept walking and contained the sob she wanted to expel.
“Cassie,” he yelled. She walked faster.
“Cassie, wait.” He rushed to her side, catching her arm and stopping her. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her tears.
“How may I help you, Mr. Sinclair?” Her voice was formal, a way to keep him as far away from her as possible.
“Cassie, don’t do this please.”
He sounded so broken and desperate. She glanced at him and wished she hadn’t. He looked as tortured as she did.
“What do you want me to do? I’m sorry, but I can’t find the words of wisdom right now. When did you get engaged?” She saw the question caught him off guard.
“Cassie, please. We’ll talk—”
“It was at the party, wasn’t it?” Cassie knew the tears were falling down her face. She’d lost the fight to keep them inside. “You used me.” She dropped her head in shame. What had felt so wonderful to her was his way of having one last free shag. Soon he’d be a married man and every other woman was off the menu. Was she some pity fuck? Screw the fat girl while he knew she wouldn’t have any claim to him afterwards?
****
“Cassie, I’m sorry.” Blaze had no idea what to say, and the sorry didn’t sound good enough even to him. He’d used Cassie in the most appalling way he knew how. That night he’d begged her not to refuse him. Chris had told him of her crush, and he’d used it against her. How could she refuse him when she spent most of her time wanting to be in his arms? She’d welcomed him into her body with so much desire and passion that he got hard just remembering. His desk was now a treasured memory for him.
