Page 56 of The Rented Bride

“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?”