Page 100 of Becoming

“Ms. Cuinn?” The first guard Cass encountered looked over his shoulder. “No more than five minutes. I could get fired for this.”

“I only need one.”

Cass shook her head as Rebecca disappeared through the door giving the guard a smile that could charm the pants off anyone. It sure as hell worked on her. Every. Single. Day.

“WHY DO I have to stay in here? I want to go back to my room.”

“Sit down.”

“But…”

“This would go faster if you just listen to him, Miranda.”

Miranda turned and scowled at her visitor. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s fine because I don’t particularly care about what you have to say.” Rebecca sat in the metal chair in her Mistress pose. Straight back, crossed ankles tucked beneath the chair, and hands clasped in her lap. “This is about your little threat. You should know that I couldn’t care less who knows who I am. Not even Beverly and Russell. Neither does Cassidy. So, if you were planning on using that to manipulate Cassidy in some way, you can forget it.”

“You don’t deserve her,” Miranda snarled.

“Perhaps. But for some reason, she loves me as much as I love her. Which is why I will not allow you to hurt her again. She seems to think you can get help in here. Make sure you do.” Rebecca leaned forward slightly and dropped her voice to a menacing whisper. “Because if you try to make things difficult for Cassidy when you get out of here, you will have to deal with me. And I’m not nearly as sweet as Cassidy is.”

She stood, smoothing the front of her black slacks. There was a part of her that felt sorry for Miranda. But the part of her that was protective of Cassidy? That part didn’t care one-bit what Miranda was suffering from. Perhaps that was callous of her. Yet, after everything she had endured from Samantha, even a mental illness didn’t make hurting someone else acceptable.

“Be well, Miranda.”

Rebecca walked out of the room, leaving behind Miranda’s angry words. She didn’t listen. There was a time when all she could hear were the angry words. Those times were over. Rebecca smiled at Cassidy when she came into view.

Cass peered over Rebecca’s shoulder and watched as the guard escorted a sullen Rand out of the room.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Mmhmm. Ready to go home?”

“Totally.”

“BABE! YOU’RE GOING to wear a hole in the floor!”

Cass glanced at the closed bathroom door. How the hell does she know I’m pacing? “I’m nervous!” Cass called back.

Rebecca opened the door and stopped short. Nervous or not, her girlfriend looked fucking hot! Cassidy continued to pace, her pale pink shirt unbuttoned and flowing open with each turn. God, Rebecca loved that Cassidy never wore a bra. The tight black jeans had Rebecca wondering if Cassidy would be packing tonight. She hoped so. If Rebecca had to spend the entire night lusting after her, she didn’t want any delays when they got home. She caught Cassidy’s arm.

“I know you’re nervous, baby. But everything is going to be fine.”

“Huh?” As it happened so often, all of Cass’s blood flowed to southern regions of her anatomy when she got a vision of Rebecca. Thoughts disappeared rapidly seeing Rebecca in her dress that she couldn’t even remember what she was nervous about. Fuck. That dress. It took all of Cass’s strength to stop herself from tearing it off Rebecca right here and now. The pale pink matched her shirt, but that was where any similarities ended. Where Cass was androgynously dressed, Rebecca was pure femininity. Though she was clueless about fashion, she knew that the tight, knee-length dress fit Rebecca like a glove. She got a drool-inducing peek at Rebecca’s cleavage due to a very nice cut out that went from neck to belly button. And if Rebecca’s bare shoulders were anything to go by, Cass was pretty sure the dress was backless. Jesus. She’s trying to kill me.

Rebecca smirked. She knew Cassidy and knew exactly what was going on in her head. She loved that she could have that effect on her. “I said everything is going to be fine.”

Somehow, Cass’s brain caught up with the conversation. “But people are going to see these paintings. Judge them.”

“Babe, people see your murals every day. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is, these are artsy people who know what they’re looking at!”

“And they’re going to love it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve seen your work, baby. You’re talented. And Eve saw that, too. You wouldn’t be her featured artist if she didn’t.”