Page 63 of The Rented Bride

“I think you’ll love it,” he said.

They ascended higher. Her stomach swooped when they banked right, then propelled forward.

Trent pointed toward his window. “Brettonwood.”

Cassie had to lean into him to look out his window. Light from the setting sun reflected off patches of snow on the mountainside. Light illuminated the windows of the castle. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’d always thought Miami was the most beautiful place in the world. But I can see Brettonwood is every bit as magical.” She leaned back into her seat and smiled. “If it weren’t so cold, I’d say you have Miami beat.”

After a few minutes, Cassie began to enjoy the flight. The speed of the rotors became a rhythmic hum. As they cut through the sky, the horizon darkened to blend with the darkness below them. She became intimately aware of their entwined fingers, and the rings on her finger, the gold band that said she belonged to him—worked for him.

Finally, as if breaking through a sea of black, a valley opened up and a million multi-colored lights twinkled beneath them.

“Denver,” he whispered.

The helicopter skimmed over the city’s outskirts, headed for the skyscrapers buildings of downtown.

“We’re cleared for landing,” Liam said.

Cassie peered through the window as the pilot maneuvered over the city, finally hovering over one of the mammoth buildings, and set down on the lighted helipad.

The pilot powered down the helicopter and a moment later Trent’s door opened. He stepped down then helped her from the cabin.

Even if she stood upright, the slowly rotating rotors wouldn’t have touched her head, but she still felt inclined to hunch over until they cleared the blades. A sharp whip of cold wind cut through her jacket. Trent pulled her into his warmth until they reached the safety of the building. He led her to an elevator located to the left.

Trent pressed the elevator button and the doors dinged opened a moment later. They descended one floor to the rooftop restaurant.

“Mr. Weston,” the maître d’ approached. “Your table is ready. May I take your coats?”

Trent assisted Cassie with her coat, handed it to the man, then slipped off his coat and gave it to him. The maître d’ then handed both coats to a young woman who waited at a respectful distance.

“Your table is this way.”

Trent rested his hand on her lower back as the maître d’ escorted them through the restaurant. As an event planner, Cassie had been in some beautiful restaurants and hotels, but nothing compared to being thirty-five stories up, surrounded by glass and overlooking the Mile-High City with live piano music softly playing. Candlelight made each linen-draped table feel secluded and private. Artwork graced the walls and lush green palms created the illusion of sectioned off areas.

The maître d’ halted at a private table overlooking the mountains to the west. “Our best,” he said. “Jaxon will be your waiter tonight.”

Trent held the chair for Cassie.

“A wine list.” The maître d’ set the wine list next to Trent, then held the chair for him as Trent sat down.

Trent handed back the wine menu. “Gaja Barbaresco.”

“Of course, the 2007?”

“Perfect.”

The maître d’ excused himself.

Cassie stared across the city at the unobstructed view of the mountains. “You must come here often.” They knew his name and seemed to know he’d demand the best. And he’d just ordered an expensive wine, raspberry notes and highly coveted.

He leaned forward and smiled. “A few times.”

“It’s lovely.”

***

But not as lovely as her. She was strong yet, at the same time, made him feel strong, protective, and damn, he’d never felt more desirable.

Jaxon arrived with the wine and their menus. Trent had dined here a few times, but tonight his intention was to impress Cassie, to show her he wasn’t just the asshole who had fired her and then manipulated her into a fake marriage.