Page 36 of The Rented Bride

Chapter Seven

Trent got his father into bed and left strict instructions for Annie not to let him return to the party. Could tonight get any more chaotic? He needed to find Cassie and explain his actions…and beg for her help.

Despite her petite stature, Cassie wasn’t difficult to spot in the ballroom, standing with Celina near the balcony doors. He paused at the threshold of the ballroom. Cassie smiled at something Celina said, her mannerism refined and feminine. She looked the part, acted the part, but could she play the part? He needed a bride. Maybe he could hire one.

He crossed the room. Cassie gazed in his direction, her blue eyes pleading.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” Celina said as he approached. “Where have you been hiding her?”

“Miami.” He wrapped an arm around Cassie. “I wasn’t ready to share.”

Cassie’s frown turned fierce.

“Darling.”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

In for a pound. In for a penny. He pulled her close, hugging her flush against his side. She stiffened.

“James is clearly ecstatic,” Celina said. “When is the big day?”

Trent thought of his grandfather upstairs. He didn’t have much time. Every day his condition worsened.

“Soon,” was all he could reply.

“Darling,” Cassie said in a slightly mocking tone. “Can we have a moment alone?” She grasped his hand.

“Of course. We’ll see you later, Celina.”

Cassie slipped through the crowd toward the kitchen, but Trent directed her toward the hallway to the left of the hearth. She looked up at him in question.

“There’s a private parlor down the hallway near the door,” he said.

He would rather take her upstairs away from the guests and avoid the room where he’d broken up with Lindsey, but he had serious doubts about how far Cassie would follow him before blowing up. Thankfully, she allowed him to take the lead. The hollow click of her heels against the marble tile as he led her to the parlor began to match the cadence of his hammering heart. They reached the hallway in time to see Tomas slipping his wife’s mink onto her shoulders. Thomas’ eyes flicked to Cassie, then to Trent. He whispered something to his wife, then took three steps toward the parlor door.

“Trent, we’re taking off.” He extended his hand and Trent shook it. “Regarding our earlier discussion, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“That situation has been resolved,” Trent replied.

Tomas nodded. “Call me.” He smiled at Cassie. “And congratulations, Ms. Adams.”

“Thank you,” she said, and squeezed Trent’s hand harder.

Tomas returned to his wife as Trent opened the parlor door. Cassie jerked her hand from his and stormed inside the room. Trent followed, closed the door, and leaned against it.

“I’m sorry,” he said as she took a breath to speak. He knew what was coming. He’d be angry as hell if someone he hadn’t agreed to marry publicly announced his engagement.

***

Cassie spun around. “Sorry doesn’t begin to cover what’s happened.” Her mind whirled with questions. “First you fire me and now you tell everyone we’re getting married?”

She was too pissed to let the sorrow in his eyes—or the way his muscles bunched beneath the starched white shirt as he slipped off his suit coat—distract her.

He glanced to his watch. “Is it really only twelve thirty?”

“Yes. It’s late, the party is over, and I’m going home.” Back to Miami where the crazies didn’t dress in designer tuxes and sport billion-dollar bank accounts.

“Please, sit down.” He indicated the couch, then strode to the sideboard, reached for a glass and decanter, and poured two fingers of amber liquid. “Something to drink?”