Page 89 of The Rented Bride
“Sixth floor, at a little seating area.”
Maryanne laughed. “All right, you get out of the hotel. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes? Where are you?” Even with light Sunday traffic, Maryanne lived forty minutes out.
“Derrek has this great little place nearby.”
“Oh, you are shameful,” Cassie teased.
Maryanne laughed. “Call me when you get home.”
“Will do.” Cassie hung up. Home. Her heart fell. Would the press know where she lived? Damn Trent Weston and Lindsey Freemont. She never wanted to hear the woman’s name again.
Where could she go? Her mother’s? Cassie groaned. Heaven help her. Once her family got wind of this… Wait, maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as she feared. This was big news to the people who followed the rich and beautiful. But her family didn’t read the tabloids or watch reality TV. She could lay low at her parent’s until this media frenzy passed.
Cassie rose and walked down the hallway. A few turns and then, on the left, an Employees Only door appeared. She glanced left than right, then slipped inside. Hallelujah, a service elevator. She pushed the down button and waited. Once inside, she touched the button for the ground floor. When the doors opened, she walked down a short hall. As she hoped, she found a side door opening to the parking lot. Cassie scanned the area. No one carried a camera or looked like a reporter. She hurried around the side of the building away from the front entrance.
On the main street, she walked several blocks. A shout sounded behind her. She twisted and looked over her shoulder. A teenager had called to another friend who was jogging across the street toward them. Cassie neared a seafood restaurant and hurried inside. She stopped in the lobby, pulled out her phone and called for a taxi. Ten minutes later, she slid into the back of the cab and rattled off her parents’ address.
As they drove through the city, her head began to clear and she wondered at the wisdom of going to her parents. Mom would know instantly that something was wrong. But where else could she go?
Her cell rang, and she startled. Cassie fumbled the phone from her purse and groaned. Her mother had to be psychic. Ignoring the call, she spoke to the cabbie. “Change of plan,” she said, and gave the driver the address. Sophia had a small apartment in the city, but since her engagement to Brandon, she’d been slowing moving her stuff to his place. She rarely even slept at the apartment…and Cassie had a key.
Her phone rang again. Cassie glanced at the screen. Her chest tightened and her tummy tumbled. Trent. Tears pressed the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t embarrass herself and cry in the back of a cab. She was living a bad movie with co-stars, billionaire Trent Weston and starlet Lindsey Freemont. Cassie tapped the screen to ignore the call. But then her pulse jumped. What if something was wrong with James? The need to cry pressed harder, and this time her vision blurred with the tears she couldn’t halt. This was so unfair.
The phone blared to life again. She snatched the phone, tapped the screen and yanked the phone to her ear. “What is it, Trent? Is something wrong with James?”
“So you do know this Trent Weston.”
Like ice cold water, her mother’s voice sent a shiver over her.
“How is it possible that my daughter is involved with an engaged man?” her mother demanded.
Cassie couldn’t reply.
“Cassandra Elizabeth Maureen Adams, answer me.”
“It’s not what you think,” Cassie managed.
“What is it then?”
“He’s not engaged.”
“It’s on the internet,” her mother said.
“And we both know everything on the internet is true.”
Her mother tsked. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as you are that the Madonna hears our prayers.”
“Cassandra, do not mock our Lord’s mother.”
“I’m not, Mom. I’m serious. I know for a fact that he isn’t engaged to another woman.” Not now anyway. A week ago was another matter. And that is what her mother meant, and she knew it. Oh, she’d made a big mess of things.
Cassie released a breath. “You have to trust me.”
“Then you are not involved with this man?”
