The Transient Wife

Chapter 4

As she waited slouched on one chair, she thought about her father and the real reason why he suddenly sold out his own daughter. He would never do that to her. She just knew it. Unless something bad happened, she thought. If her dad would not talk, Philip Strindberg better because there was no way she would let a stranger slip a ring around her finger without valid reasons.

Then a very strange thought came to her. What if the Strindbergs were part of the Mafia? It could very well be! What is this? Godfather IV? Did her father stumble into bad business with them and now they want to bind him to them through her?

But that could not be. Her father knew nothing but manufacture plastics! Plastics!

A knock on the door followed by the buzzing sound snapped Cassandra back to the present. Grabbing her black clutch and keys, she went to open the door.

"Are you ready?" he asked, looking her up and down. Consciously, she tugged her dress lower down her knees and looked him over. He didn't look bad himself, dressed in black tuxedo and dark gray tie. Good thing he looks good, she thought to herself.

"Yes," she replied dryly. "Do we really have to do this?" She did not want to meet his family who could be the freaking Mafia! What she really wanted to do was talk

"Of course. It's the main reason why we're getting married."

She frowned. "Your family?"

"Yes," he answered, blinking before she could figure out whether or not he was lying. And by that Cassandra was certain he was lying. "And don't ask anything further. All you have to do is pretend you're happy. That's all they want to see."

"Oh, so let me get this straight," she said, feigning ignorance. "My dad had his own reason for selling me out and you have yours." She peered at him and asked, "You're not getting your share of the inheritance if you don't marry, right?"

He looked at her incredulously. "That only happens in movies, my dear future wife. I want a wife so they'll leave me alone."

"That's your only reason?" she cried. "That happens in movies too!"

"You don't know my family," he said, stepping back. Obviously, their conversation just ended. Why didn't she believe him? The movies could make up better plots than this guy, she thought as she stepped out and locked her door. He led her down the path across her small lawn and to his black BMW.

She stopped dead on her tracks as he opened the passenger door.

"What's wrong now?" he asked rather impatiently.

"I can't ride shotgun," she rapidly shook her head as she said it.

"Why?"

"I..." She couldn't tell him the reason, and she never would. "I just can't."

"Look here, Cassandra. We don't have time for your little games, alright? If you don't want to go, you don't really have a choice. My family is already waiting for us at the restaurant."

She looked at him desperately. "No, it's not that. I just can't ride shotgun."

He fixed her with a hard look for a long moment before exclaiming, "Fine!" He slammed the passenger door that caused her to flinch, and walked to open the backseat. "Get in. Now."

"Thank you," she muttered as she hastily climbed inside. Once again, the door slammed beside her and she saw him stride in anger to the driver side.

He did not say another word as he started the ignition and sped off. Cassandra leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes, clutching her small bag in front of her anxiously.