"I'm sleeping in my room tonight," Cassandra blurted out later that night. She didn't want him to think she was that easy after everything that happened between them—as great as it was.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Philip said, blowing out a breath. They were sitting side by side on a wooden lawn bench at the back of the house with a glass of wine, just chilling out and looking at the stars.

She didn't comment. She stayed silent because she honestly didn't know what to say.

At the corner of her eye, she felt him change his position to face her. "Do you think I'm thinking you're easy?"

Shit, he's good. "Who would sleep with someone she barely knows?" She was accusing herself when she said that.

"Cass," his hand went to rest under her chin and urged her to face him. She did and she reluctantly met his eyes. They were talking about it tonight, great. She had hoped it would not be that soon. "That thought never crossed my mind."

"But it did cross mine. I don't know, I just thought it was too fast. And it shouldn't have happened anyway. We are not really married like a real couple to do such a thing in the first place."

"You're saying you regret it?" His voice sounded pissed, hurt even, and when she finally took the courage to look into his eyes, she saw that he was looking at her with anxiety. It almost startled her to see him with that expression because it was not like him at all. Anxiety was not his area of expertise as she believed.

"No, I don't regret it. I'm just saying... I don't know," she looked away and stared up at the stars. "It's just freaking complicated."

"We may not be married under normal circumstances but we've been together enough time to know each other. And that can be considered dating in my book. And having sex with someone you're dating is not a bad thing, is it? It's just complicated because you're thinking it is."

"Because it really is for me," she insisted. She didn't know about him, but she had a lot of things to lose if ever she accidentally fell for him. And she had enough of losing something—or someone.

Sharing his bed would make things difficult if she would not be careful. Yes, she could enjoy it, but as she said, it would have to take a lot of necessary precautions. Right that moment, she was thinking of doing it slow.

"Are you afraid?"

What a stupid, incomplete question, she thought. "Afraid of what?"

"That you might not want to get out when the time comes?"

"Of course not," she lied. That was exactly what she had in mind.

"Then why can't we do what other married people should be doing? I mean, you know--and I know--that we are strongly sexually attracted to each other. Why not enjoy the moment while it lasts? Just like dating."

Cassandra sighed, took a sip from her glass and watched him through her lashes. His words were rational enough and she had expected that from him. He always had something to say about almost everything.

"What do you think?" he asked when she did not say a word.

Cassandra chuckled. "You really want to know what I'm thinking." It was not a question.

"Of course. But let me tell you this before you say what you have to say." He paused and scooted closer, urging her to meet his eyes. "I think that we're really good in bed together. We may not be perfect as a couple in a lot of ways, but we're good in bed. I don't want to miss that part with you. Yes, sure, we'll end up divorcing after a few more months and we'll go on our own separate ways. And when that time comes, I don't want us both frustrated thinking what would have happened if we didn't deprive ourselves of this. If the time comes that we have to split, I'd like to think I divorced a lover. We started with this marriage with different reasons and I didn't want it to end the same way." He said it without pause and when he was finally done, he was looking more anxious.

"Are you done?" she asked laughingly.

He looked as if he was about to say more but he nodded while taking a deep breath.

"Okay, let me clear some few stuff first. Are you saying that in some ways, you regret your decision of forcing this marriage? Because with the way you said those things, it sounded like that."

"Yes, in some ways, I do regret it. It was not my original idea, you know."

"Really?"

He looked at her dryly, "I'm not as cold-hearted as you might think. Do you think I liked the idea? But what's done is done. I can't possibly undo what happened. And I agreed with your father—"

"Philip, please, don't take me for a fool. I know such absurd contract doesn't exist. No one would ever make such a contract legal." She looked at him squarely.

"Henry can," he said with a scoff.

"But you and I both know Henry is not just any normal lawyer. He is more than that, is he?"

Her husband shrugged. "His day job is a lawyer."

Cassandra groaned. "You're not going to tell me the truth, are you? Why? Because you don't trust me with it?" she asked.

"It's not that," he said. He gave her a serious look. "I can tell you the mess I am in, but that will also mean telling you about your father. And that is a matter I don't think I have the right to talk about. It is his story to tell."

"But Philip—"

"Just think of it this way, Cass," he patiently said, "Just think of this like a game of chess. Your father is the king of the other side. And I am just the horse piece that joined the fray because of some stroke of bad luck. I cannot tell you how the horse got back without telling you how the game even started."

Cassandra nodded. "Because telling me about the game means telling me about the story of the other pieces, including the king's," she concluded.

He nodded. "Exactly."

"And what about Henry Bell? What is he in this game of chess?"

"He is the piece that is silently making its way to the other side without them knowing." When he saw her doubtful look, he added, "Trust me, he is on our side."

Cassandra groaned. "Philip, I want to know everything."

When he didn't say anything, she sighed. "You know, whether you tell me or not, I know my father's in deep trouble. That's why I am here. I am trusting him despite everything he—and you—did." She looked up at the sky and let out a heavy breath.

"Your father will tell you the truth when the time comes, Cass. Just be a bit patient. And behave."

"Why? Because I might get myself in danger?"

His eyes turned serious. "You will not be in danger. Stop worrying. As long as you behave, that is."

She sighed. "Most often I find myself thinking we should just get that divorce earlier than you and my father planned. I could file for one the very next day. What do you think? No one can stop me, right? The wedding was very legal, after all."

"That's not going to happen, babe," he smirked. "As much as I hate your cooking, I can't disappoint my family this soon. It's the first time they are actually happy."

"Yeah," her smile faded, "your family is great."

"And you're stalling again. Tell me what you think of my proposal."

"You're too impatient," she pointed out. "Okay, fine, I agree with your statement. I'd rather end this freaking marriage in a different way. I'm tired of fighting with you and sex might lessen that part a bit."

His mouth hung open in disbelief. "You're saying yes to my proposal because you think I'll get softer?"

"Of course. As far as I know, men who are sexually satisfied have good moods all the time."

His laughter rang out and his shoulder shook with it. He took her by surprise by kissing her fully on the mouth, his lips still twitching with laughter. After many minutes, they were gasping for breath and she said, "Yeah, I think I made the right decision. You're such a good negotiator."

"And I'm also good in a lot of other things. Would you like to find out more about it?" he looked at her naughtily.

Cassandra chuckled and pushed him away, "Maybe later..."

*****

"Cass!" Philip's voice rang out from the bathroom.

"Hmm..." she moaned, her face buried in the pillow. She had been sleeping in his room for a week now—except when she was having one of her tantrums.

"Cass..." his voice was more audible and clear as he was already hovering above her beside the bed.

"What?"

"What did I tell you about the toothpaste?"

Bummer, she forgot to recap the tube last night. "I'll remember it next time, don't worry." She turned to the other side, hugging one pillow. If it was a month ago, she would have gone crazy over his pathetic obsession with cleanliness, but most days now she just found herself surprised that she was used to it. In fact, there were times she found it amusing.

But not when it was too early in the morning. No, never.

"You also said that yesterday."

That did it. "Fine," she came fully awake in an instant and was about to jump out of bed when she remembered she was naked so she strapped the comforter around her and stormed toward the bathroom, took the toothpaste, recapped it and walked back where he was standing and slapped the tube in his hand. "Happy?" And then she stormed toward the door adding, "I'll return your comforter later!"

She slept in her room for another hour or so after dressing. But that was not for long because she was awakened by the knock on the door.

She ignored it.

"Cass," her husband's voice called from the other side. "If you're not going to open this door, I'll break it."

She snapped her eyes open. It was Monday again and he was probably knocking to remind her of her chores.

Cassandra suddenly had a crazy wild idea in mind and she immediately acted on it. She went to her bathroom and plugged her blower.

"Cass..." his warning voice called out once again.

"What?" she tried real hard to make out a weakened voice.

"Open the door."

"I'm too sick..." she said, adding a cough for drama.

"What do you mean sick?"

"Sick like fever and cough," she coughed once more and turned on her blower. She then pointed it at her forehead.

"You didn't seem sick earlier," his voice was etched with concern and doubt.

"I am now..." she turned off the blower and ran back to her bed.

He did not answer. It was not a minute longer when she heard a key working on her doorknob.

She was not surprised he had a key to her room. She felt for her forehead and prayed the heat the blower brought would stay a little longer.

She closed her eyes and buried her shoulders deep in the comforter.

"Cass..." she heard his footsteps briskly walking toward her and she fought the urge to open her eyes.

"Hmmm..." she forced out a really weak moan. She was getting good at it.

"How in the hell did you get a fever all of a sudden?" he asked, planting the back of his hand on her forehead. "God, you're burning up...we need to get you to a hospital."

"No, no. I'll feel better after a long rest," she said in alarm. The hospital would throw her out in the streets once they took her temperature and Philip would drag her home in fury. She could already picture the scenes in her mind.

"I'll go get you a medicine." She was not able to stop him because he was out the door in a flash.

Now, she was worried what would happen to her if she took that medicine. Whatever, she was going take it. She couldn't possibly get well all of sudden, right?

*****

Philip did not believe her. She was fine earlier.

And he saw the damned blower. And heard it when she turned it on earlier.

But who was he to stop her from enjoying her act?

He grabbed what he needed from his bathroom cabinet. Before he went back to his mendacious, conniving wife, Philip looked at himself in the mirror.

"You're a good actor," he reminded himself. Hiding a smile, he turned and walked back to Cassandra's room.

*****

"Here, take this," Philip said gently by the time he got back. Cassandra opened her eyes and saw the concern in his eyes. A big attack of conscience gripped her all of a sudden.

"I can do it," she whispered, taking the tablet from him. She prayed a single prayer before popping it in her mouth. She took the glass of water he was holding and took tiny—really tiny—sips of water. Of course she didn't swallow the tablet, she hid it under her tongue and she was itching for him to get the hell out of the room because the taste was horrible. Harrison was a doctor and he mentioned once that the mouth can absorb medications. She had to spit it out soon.

"Get a good rest now, okay?" he kissed her forehead before he stood up.

Cassandra just nodded because she couldn't open her mouth. He tucked her in and went out the door. The moment it closed, she spit out the tablet in her hand, went to the bathroom and flushed it out. She gargled and walked back to her bed.

*****

Philip had his ear pressed against the door, fighting a laugh as he heard his wife scramble to the bathroom door.

He checked his watch and frowned.

Henry should be sending a message soon.

The meeting he and Kurt Anders had during the man's birthday party went well.

The men hardly showed any suspicion.

Kurt now believed that they may move freely and faster now.

Philip didn't have to do anything, really. He was simply tasked to pretend enjoying a married life while doing his usual work.

But if Kurt and Henry succeeded, it would only mean two things: Philip's ass would be saved and he would no longer need his wife.

*****

"Now what am I going to do?" she sighed. "That was a stupid thing, Cass. You should call yourself The Lady Who Cried Wolf," she snapped at herself. "It was his fault. He woke me up just to recap the freaking toothpaste."

I shouldn't have pretended being sick, she regretted. She had nothing to do. I should be better in the afternoon. Yes, I'll do that.

She heard approaching footsteps and she hurried back under her covers and closed her eyes.

"Hey, you need to eat," she felt him sit beside her on the bed. And she smelled the smell of soup. Her mouth watered.

"I don't feel like eating," she lied.

"You have to," he prodded, feeling her forehead. He frowned. "You don't feel that hot anymore. The medication was fast," he observed.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better."

"You should rest anyway," he told her, spooning the soup. "Try this," he sent it to her mouth.

"I can do this, you know," she looked at him dryly.

"Just eat," he ordered firmly. She obliged unwillingly, feeling awkward that he was actually feeding her because he thought she was really sick.

"You have to take a bath after this," he uttered.

"Okay," she did not bother to argue.

"What did you do anyway? Why did you burn up all of a sudden?"

I turned on the hair blower, she answered silently. "I don't know."

"You're working yourself too hard. You've been painting like crazy you don't even have time to eat."

"I have a deadline to meet."

"You won't meet it when you're sick," he countered.

Cassandra fell silent and prayed for forgiveness for all the lies she had said and made up and was about to make if needed.

*****

Later that afternoon, she had reached her limit of boredom. Philip checked on her from time to time and she appreciated that. Hey, at least he cared after all.

"You should be resting," he said when she found him in the kitchen making a salad. She just recently found out that he was a terrific cook. And he endured her cooking when he could actually do better!

"I feel a lot better," she told him, resting her elbows on the counter. "In fact, I'm going out today."

"It's nearly dark," he told her.

"Harrison will pick me up."

His hands froze, his eyebrows snapped together, and his eyes were firing up with anger when he looked at her. "And where are you going?"

"I decided to give Dennis a visit. It's been a long time since I saw him."

Philip's shoulders stiffened. "And why do you want to see him all of a sudden?"

She looked at him and couldn't help to answer sarcastically, "He came out of his coma and called me." When he did not give a comment at that, she gave him a look and told the truth, "I just want to see him, see how he's doing. No significant reasons."

"It's getting late. You can't just enter a hospital at night."

I can use the Emergency part, her mind formulated. "Harrison is a doctor, remember? He can have entry anytime he wants. He's affiliated with the hospital Dennis is in."

"Dennis in a coma," he said matter-of-factly.

"You have a good memory," she couldn't help her sarcastic remarks today. "And don't tell me he wouldn't know if I visited."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"But you were thinking it."

He sighed. "All I was going to say is that you didn't have to ask Harrison for a ride. I'll take you there myself. I have much better access in the hospital."

Cassandra's mouth fell open. "You'll what?"

"I'll take you," he repeated.

"But—"

"No buts. I don't want you riding with Harrison."

"But Philip, he's on his way and—"

"Then tell him to make a U-turn or do you want me to ride along?"

"Fine, fine, I'll call him," she whirled around to get her phone. "Husbands..." she grumbled under her breath.

*****

Harrison wasn't happy that she was going with Philip. In the first place, she called him first.

"What's wrong with him? Why won't he let me take you? He doesn't know Dennis."

"It's not like he doesn't want you to do it," she lied. "He just all of a sudden said he's taking me and he's not going to take no for an answer. I know him. So I'm really sorry, Harry. Don't worry we'll go together next time."

"I want to talk to him now." That took her by surprise.

"What? Who?"

"Your husband," her friend answered.

"Harry, can this wait next time?"

"No, I want to talk to him."

"But—"

"Do you want me to go there and talk to him in person?"

"Okay," she said resignedly and went down to the kitchen. "He wants to talk to you."

Philip frowned. "Who?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Harrison."

Without a second thought, he dropped everything he was doing and strode toward her and grabbed her phone.

"Yes," Philip said as he placed her phone against his ear. He turned away from her so she couldn't see his expression. She followed behind him while he paced around the kitchen, anxiously trying to take a peek at his face. "I'm her husband and I have a say on this, do you get it?"

Cassandra cringed at her husband's tone.

"What the hell does that mean?" she saw his jaw clench, the veins on his neck engorging.

"What did he say? What are you talking about?" Cassandra asked in a hushed tone. She tapped Philip's arm when he just absently looked at her, too focused on his conversation.

"That's bullshit. No, let me tell you one thing—I'm not getting out of this just because you told me to."

"Philip," she prodded, more curious about their topic now.

He held up on hand to silence her, his brows knitted in a line. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Philip," she shook his arm this time.