The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1) (14 page)

“Granddad told you that, too, did he?”

She nodded, trying to hide the smile that pulled at her mouth.

“Would you buy that boys will be boys?” Trent asked.

She grimaced. “I have four brothers. I’ve seen it all.”

Trent threw his head back and laughed. Cassie’s heart warmed at the deep rich sound.

“Tell your brothers I said thanks,” he said.

“He also told the story of how you pulled your friend out of the ice when he fell through.”

To Cassie’s surprise—and delight—Trent actually blushed. “I was sixteen, too young and stupid to know better than to jump in after her.”

“I know a lot of sixteen-year-olds who wouldn’t have jumped in,” Cassie said. “I’d say, you just didn’t stop to consider the danger.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“He’s very proud of you.”

Trent eyes clouded over. “I worked hard to make him proud.”

“You really love him.”

Trent gave a sheepish smile. “Corny, I know.”

Cassie laid a hand on his arm. “No. It’s not. Your devotion is touching.” She withdrew her hand. “You have no idea how many men are turned off by my large family.”

“Why?”

“Why? Last night is a perfect example. You found me in your closet talking to my cousin after midnight.”

“You made it sound like it wasn’t that late,” he said.

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you angry that you’d been woken up by a phone call from my family.”

His expression turned serious. “Cassie, I will never be angry by a phone call from your family, no matter the time, day or night.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks. Do you have anything planned with your grandfather today?”

Trent shook his head. “Just relax and hang out. When he gets up, we’ll have lunch. I usually read to him before dinner.”

“What are you reading? Tom Clancy, David Baldacci or do you delve into the darker worlds of Clive Barker or Dean Koontz?”

His eyes twinkled. “Would you think any less of me if I told you we were reading
Wuthering Heights
?

Cassie regarded him. “You did read
Wuthering Heights
, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “We finished it three days ago.”

“What did you think of it?” she asked. “

“I appreciated it much more than I did in high school.”

She grimaced. “I know what you mean.”

He straightened from the desk. “I’ve got to get some work done. Why don’t you join me in my office? This desk is comfortable writing a letter or two but that chair will have your back aching inside of an hour.”

She’d noticed. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You won’t.”

Cassie nodded. “Okay.” She closed her laptop and unplugged it, then reached for the coffee.

“Leave the coffee,” he said. “I’ll have Doris bring up a fresh pot.”

She rose and followed him from the room.

Once in the office, Trent nodded to a small desk located in front of the window that overlooked the mountain. ‘Will this do?” he asked

“You can’t go wrong with any of the views here,” she said.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get office chair.”

He left and Cassie meandered to the bookcase located on the left wall. She lifted a small antique frame from the middle shelf. Because of the age of the picture, the black and white patina and the fashion of the man and woman in the picture, she guessed these must be Trent’s grandparents when they were married. The woman’s dress, traditional and very conservative, had a high lace neckline. Cassie set the picture back on the shelf and picked up the frame next to it. The little boy propped on the man’s shoulders had to be Trent. The familiar amber eyes, the full mouth.

Trent appeared, pushing an office chair. “I was four in that picture,” he said as he parked the chair in front of the small desk.

Cassie replaced the frame. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

He crossed to her. “It’s okay. That was the last picture taken of my parents. We were on holiday in Morocco. The following morning, they were killed in a car accident.”

Cassie started. She had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Sadly, most of my memories of them are in photographs. I remember my mother singing Gaelic lullabies to me. I only remember the melody. Grandfather knows the songs, but I think it hurts too much to remember.” Trent sighed. “He’s given me all he has over the years.”

She nodded. “You’re lucky. You might not have a big family, but what you have is special.”

“Tell me about your family.” He snorted a laugh. “It’s a little late to be asking such a fundamental question, isn’t it?” His smile went lopsided and, to her horror, her heart did a flip.

“They are a very large, Italian, Catholic—and highly opinionated—family,” she said. “You’re lucky you only have one grandfather to please. Try keeping mother, father, grandparents, aunts, uncles and even cousins all thinking they know best. You can’t even pee in my parent’s house without someone noticing.”

She expected him to laugh, but his expression turned serious. “They must be proud of you. Daley Enterprises has a prestigious name.”

Her treacherous pulse skipped another beat. “My mother says if I want to be a cook, I should get married, have children, then I could spend all the time I want in the kitchen.”

He held her gaze. “You
are
married.”

“Bite your tongue. Should those words reach my mother’s ears—” Cassie shook her head.

“Here you are.” Henry entered the office carrying a tray of pastries.

Meg followed, a yellow legal pad in hand. “Cassie, I’ve written down phone numbers, names and extensions of all the staff. I know you have a few of us in your phone but I wanted you to have a more comprehensive list. You should have everything you need, but if you don’t, just buzz me.” She tore off the paper and handed it to Cassie.

“I’m here, as well, if you need anything,” Doris said entering the office with coffee service on a sterling tray.

Cassie wanted to laugh. She had a sneaking suspicion the staff wanted to see how the newlyweds were fairing as a couple.

Doris set the coffee on the sideboard near the bookshelves beside the pastries, and started to pour.

“Thank you, Doris, but we’ll serve ourselves,” Trent said.

The room quickly emptied, with a covert glance in Cassie’s direction from Henry, who closed the door behind them.

Cassie walked to the chair at the small desk and sat down. “Are you sure I won’t bother you?” She opened her laptop.

“Positive.” He set a cup of coffee in front of her, then sat behind his desk.

Trent pulled up the first quarter projections for a dotcom marketing company he was considering acquiring. The company would work well with Modern Day Computing. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Cassie twirl her hair around her finger as she stared at her computer screen.

A few minutes passed and the click of their keyboards filled the silence. Trent forced himself to concentrate on work.

When Cassie’s phone chirped an hour later, Trent started from the trance he always fell into when working.

Cassie snatched up her phone. “Hello?”

Trent reached around and rubbed the back of his neck. He had a small knot just below his skull. He should take a couple Tylenol, especially since he had another night on the floor to look forward to. If he were honest, it wasn’t the floor that had kept him awake, but the memory of Cassie sitting at his grandfather’s side when he’d lain in bed. She’d never met him until that moment, yet she’d lifted the glass of water to his lips and patiently waited until he’d sipped enough water to ease his cough. And the way she’d laughed—genuinely laughed—when talking with Granddad during their wedding reception. Lindsey had said she was sorry he was dying, hell, she’d actually cried, but she hadn’t made any real and compassionate overtures.

Cassie was different. She hadn’t made a play for him. Oh, she found him attractive. He smiled inwardly at the memory of her words last night when she’d come out of the bathroom to find him shirtless.
“So kill me for looking.”
And she’d stared this morning. Yeah, she found him attractive. But that wasn’t what motivated her. He was paying her, but he had seen compassion in her eyes when she’d finally said yes to his proposal. She cared. She treated his grandfather exactly the way he wanted a wife to treat him. And the memory of her pretending to be part of the family had him wishing she really was part of the family.

What the hell was wrong with him? Just yesterday he’d been planning to marry another woman. Was he so hard up to fulfill his grandfather’s wishes that he’d talked himself into a fantasy?

“I promise, I have everything well in hand, Mr. Bello—yes, Eterio. I forgot.” A moment of silence followed, then, “I have spoken with the baker. The cake will be at the hotel Friday morning. I promise—” She broke off, waited a minute, then said, “Maryanne is helping. You needn’t worry.” She paused. “Of course, I understand. Let me talk to her.” She quieted for another minute then said, “Yes, I am in daily contact with them. Now, you spend some time with your daughter and I’ll talk to you soon.” She waited two heartbeats, clearly listening, then said, “Goodbye.”

Cassie set the phone down then blew out a breath.

“Problems with a client?” Trent asked.

“The father of the bride. He’s a bundle of nerves.”

“I can’t blame him. I would worry, too.”

Cassie nodded, her gaze on her computer screen.

Trent returned his attention to his computer, but he wondered if he should do something. What would he do? He glanced at the clock on his screen. Eleven-fifteen. If Granddad wasn’t up, he would be soon. Trent pulled up his emails and opened the newest one.

Cassie’s phone rang again. She cast an apologetic glance his way and said, “Sorry,” as she picked up the phone. Trent smiled, but she was already saying ‘hello’ to the caller.

“Good Lord, you’re kidding? The man is going to drive me nuts. Yes, I know, he’s the father of the bride, and he’s a nice man, but—” She blew out a frustrated breath.

“No, the party was fine,” she said. “Mr. Weston has no complaints.” She sighed heavily. “I know that’s not what I’d told you, but I resolved the situation. We found the iguana—” She went quiet for a moment, then laughed. “Yes, it was a real iguana.” Silence, then, “No, no idea whatsoever who did it.” She glanced at Trent and raised her brows in question. He shook his head, then she said into the phone, “But I know Gallagher was behind all the problems.” Her back stiffened. “He said he would call Eventston to take over? He can’t do that. We have a contract.” She nodded as she listened. “Tomorrow? Dammit, that’s blackmail.”

She turned and caught him staring and listening. “Yes, I know, you’re right. I’ll let you know when I’m getting in.” She glanced down at her phone as she hit the end button.

Trent went to her desk. She looked up at him.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said.

“I can’t.” She motioned toward her laptop. “I need to work.”

“You need to take a breath, gain some perspective, and then come back fresh. First rule in business, never work from a position of frustration or desperation.”

She hesitated, then nodded and stood. He extended a hand to her, but she stared at him as if he’d sprouted horns. Trent laughed, then grasped her hand and led her from the room and down the corridor to the private rooms that held family antiques.

“Where are we going?”

“To the place I often go when I need to think. The effect may not be the same for you as it is for me, but I often feel a sense of peace after visiting this room.”

She looked up at him, brow lifted, “You’re not going to lock me in a family mausoleum, by chance?”

He laughed. “Not today.”

“How comforting,” she said dryly.

He stopped in front of the private salon and opened the door for Cassie. She entered and he flipped on the light switch as she continued left, toward a row of family portraits. “Who’s this?”

Trent joined her. “That is my great-great grandfather Elias Elliot.”

Cassie looked at him. “Great-
great
grandfather?”

Trent nodded. “Granddad remembers his mother and father speaking of him. He started out in iron mining, then when the car industry took off in the early 20
th
century, he made a fortune in steel.”

“So, your family money goes way back.”

“No. Well, Elias had money, or that’s the family story. I’ve never verified it.”

Cassie nodded. “How do you make your money?”

If anyone else had asked that question, Trent probably would’ve been angry. But Cassie had asked as nonchalantly as if she asked, ‘How do you like your eggs?’

“Transportation runs in the family. Granddad started out as an engineer, designing rockets.”

“Rockets?” she blurted. “As in, he worked for NASA?”

Trent nodded. “It’s not something we broadcast, but he designed for NASA. After he left NASA, he went on to design and manufacture aircraft parts.”