Blackwell clenched his jaw. Remington took out his cell phone to snap a few photos while his friend said, “Where is security? None of these people should be here and they need to go before Donna comes home.”
Remington snapped some photos. “She won’t like all these naked women?”
A few prostitutes walked over to him and he posed with them, grinning wide while Blackwell sputtered, “Are you taking a selfie?”
“Cassidy isn’t going to care what I do or who I do it with.” He shrugged, and handed his phone to Blackwell showing only the key pad. Unlike Blackwell, who married for love, he was marrying a friend and someone he’d not need to worry about getting jealous.
Blackwell shook his head like he was disappointed in him. “If you say so. I couldn’t live like that. Donna is going to be angry—and rightfully so.”
A car cut its engine out front. The fiancée, Donna, was here. Remington stepped backwards to not be in the line of fire.
Three prostitutes walked over to Blackwell and began rubbing on him. Blackwell tensed. “Get off me. Now.”
The door opened and Donna stared at Blackwell. Remy inched closer to the door. Luckily Cassidy would never stare at him like that, ever. Blackwell’s mother and another older woman walked in behind Donna.
“Blackwell?” Donna asked as both women stood like sentinels beside her.
Blackwell rushed to her side. “Donna! I don’t know what’s happening. We just came back from riding.”
As he passed, Remington reached out and took his phone back from Blackwell. “I’ll vouch for your fiancé. We were both shocked when we walked through the door.”
Martina shook her head and stared at all the women. “Where are the lights and security?”
Blackwell flipped the lights on.
“Mother, I swear…”
Just as his grannie would have done, Blackwell’s mother took her phone from her pocketbook and raised her voice. “I’m calling the police. If any woman is still here within five minutes, they will be arrested.”
She sounded exactly like Grannie one of the few times he’d thrown a house party in high school without her permission—she’d cleared the house of all high schoolers in under a minute.
Blackwell stood near his fiancée and blocked her during the mass exit. “Hold on.”
Whoever did this had a strange sense of humor. No one would bother with this for him and Cassidy.
Donna told Blackwell, “I was almost trampled in the mess.”
Then Blackwell’s mother said loudly, “The police are coming. I want to know who is responsible for this.”
If there was anyone left in the house, they’d jump out a window to get away rather than face possible arrest. Remington felt his friend was in good hands. He was eager to get home to get the report from Grannie’s doctors.
Blackwell and Donna seemed intimate as she brushed his cheek. “Blackwell, are you okay?”
His best friend relaxed into Donna. “You believe I had nothing to do with these women being here?”
At least his friend was marrying someone he loved, which had been on his agenda. Remington inched toward the door and escape. Donna said, “Yes. Even if Cassidy hadn’t warned me, I would believe you.”
Wait. His Cassidy? She knew about this? The phone in his back pocket felt like it burned as he asked, “My Cassidy?”
Donna stepped away from Blackwell and met his gaze. “She said Chelsea was angry and intended to do something.”
Right. Blackwell had asked for her sister’s hand and it was best not to get too involved in whatever his future sister-in-law did. He winked at them. “Well, I have to get back to my grandmother, but I’ll thank my future sister-in-law for that two-minute bachelor party.”
Donna stepped in Remington’s way. “Treat Cassidy kindly, Lord Sky. She really is one of the nicest people I’ve met here.”
He bowed his head. “She is nice. We can agree on that. She’s also too smart for someone like me, but that’s how the cards were played. See you both tomorrow.”
Blackwell walked him toward the front door. As a goodbye, he said, “Thanks, Remy.”
The road was clear as he walked to his car, which made him laugh as he wondered if the naked women had carpooled, but then he sobered. He needed to find out what the doctors said regarding his grandmother’s prognosis.
He drove his black Ferrari home. How had Cassidy’s day been? Had she gotten her haircut? He looked forward to seeing her again tonight. And the next, and the next. Back on his estate, he handed the keys to Fari and headed inside the front door.
The doctors, one female, fiftyish and blonde, the other male and portly, were just leaving Grannie’s room and he crossed his arms while he joined them. “How is she?”
“She’s happier and that’s helping her,” Dr. Marston said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “She’s excited for your wedding with Lady Cassidy, my lord.”
“Can she go to the church?” he asked. “Last week she wasn’t to be moved.”
Dr. Harper patted the stethoscope peeking from his suit pocket. “We both agreed to sit with her during the ceremony and be on hand just in case. She’s stronger and was definitely negotiating to get what she wants.”
He glanced up at the crystal chandelier in the main hall to blink back grateful tears and then met the doctor’s gazes. “Now that sounds like my Grannie. Is it possible she’ll recover fully?”
“Last week we would have said impossible,” Dr. Marston said. “Now, I don’t want to give you false hope, but she’s stronger. It’s a good sign in recovery, but this might just be adrenaline because her boy is getting married.”
“Then nothing will stop the wedding,” Remington decided. “Thank you both.” He walked them out and then returned to his grandmother’s room and knocked before quietly opening the door. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be sleeping. He almost backed out, but she suddenly sat up. “I’m going to your wedding.”
“The doctors told me.” He winked and leaned against the door. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but satisfied.” She let out a sigh and lay back down. “I need a nap now but I hope you and Cassidy make it for dinner here with me again.”
“Of course.” He would agree to whatever she wanted. “I have to get my tux for Blackwell’s wedding. I’m sure the tailor will want to make sure that both suits fit.” He had a closet filled with designer suits and matching leather shoes. Ties, belts, cufflinks. Jeans, slacks—he liked clothes and was always conscious of his appearance.
Perhaps he was shallow and vain as Cassidy had accused him of being for the past fifteen years.
With her eyes closed, Grannie said, “It is their job. The staff will call you if I need something.”
Now that sounded like her again. He’d moped for days when they said she’d not make it, but he hoped she’d stick around forever. His temperament had been one of Lucinda’s final complaints, not that she’d mattered. If Cassidy had been here, she’d have felt the same emotions he had.
He left the house where Fari waved him down like he wanted to talk. Remy stopped and asked, “Yes?”
Fari held his hat in his hand but stared at the ground. “Lady Cassidy’s car needs a complete rebuild. The vehicle is over fifteen years old and it’s not safe for her to drive. There are too many problems to be fixed. This morning I lent her the Mercedes.”
“Thank you.” His wife needed to be the Countess that people expected to see and she couldn’t do that in a broken-down Renault. “I’ll speak to her tonight. She can either keep the Mercedes or we pick out a new car for her if she prefers something else, Fari. I’ll take care of her.”
“Very good my lord.” Fari backed away from his black Ferrari, his duty done.
The stop at the tux shop only took ten minutes before he continued his drive to the palace. Prince Antonio should be around and he wanted to know the name of his supposed true love. It didn’t matter, not really, but the refusal letter this morning made no s
ense. He was on good terms with the palace as far as he knew. After parking, he went to the main door and asked for the prince.
Antonio came to greet him and shook his hand. “How are you?”
Remy stood straighter and kept a respectful distance—he knew the prince, of course, but they weren’t friends. “Getting prepared for my own wedding, Your Highness. I was confused though. This morning I received a letter from the palace.”
The prince stared at him blankly. “About?”
Right. Good. Perhaps the rejection was a paperwork error. He took the paper out of his back pocket and said, “I was denied the name of whoever the computer department claims is my match—it worked so well for you all that I was willing to try—thought it won’t change my marriage in two days, at this point. I was curious why I was denied.”
Antonio shrugged and handed the paper back. “I’ve no idea. My IT Department took a half day, but come with me.”
They walked downstairs of the palace. Remington saw an office for Prince Marco and one for Prince Lucio. They didn’t stop there but went to the end of the hall to a larger chamber across from a small prison cell that must have replaced the dungeon of ages past. “Thanks for whatever you can do.”
The small office with black leather seats and a mahogany desk that overlooked the garden was clearly used daily from the unfiled papers that showed on the shelves. Antonio flipped open a laptop and typed. “I don’t have the whole program on a web server but I know where the search history is. Give me a few minutes.”
At least this was an oversight or something bureaucratic that wasn’t personal—because that note had seemed personal. His duty was with Cassidy, but he’d asked for this after Lucinda left and now he was curious. He leaned forward in his chair. “Again, thank you for anything you can do, Your Highness.”
Antonio hit print to what looked like computer code. “I think I got it. Can you get the print out over there?” He gestured to a long, thin desk against the wall with a second printer.
Remington turned around and picked up the paper, staring blankly at the page. He read it again and a third time. Seriously? Cassidy Bright was his match? He blinked but there it was again. Her name. “This can’t be right.”
He rubbed his forehead and looked at the prince.
Antonio asked, “Is there a problem?”
He held the paper close to his chest. “Is there a search history for my fiancée as well? Lady Cassidy Bright?”
“You’re marrying Cassidy? Ah. She must have sent you that refusal letter.” Antonio studied him.
“What?” Remington held his breath, waiting.
“Lady Cassidy is my IT Department,” Antonio said. “It’s her program.”
That explained the denial. She didn’t like him; she thought he was vain and shallow and a prankster. He released a rush of air and ignored the buzzing of his skin. “Does she have a search profile?”
Antonio typed and then hit print again. “Yes. Why—what does yours say?”
Right. Of course. He flipped the paper and placed it on the desk so that the prince could read the truth. “That we’re perfectly matched.”
“Now I’m curious.” A huge smile grew on the prince’s face. Remington turned and picked up the second sheet. Remington Burke, perfect match for Cassidy Bright. Antonio asked, “What’s hers say?”
“Me.” Remy showed the prince, then scooped both print-outs up. Even his hair felt electrified and he needed to talk to Cassidy, now.
He stood and the chair skidded on the polished oak floors. Antonio rose and offered his hand. “Sounds like it will be a lovely wedding.”
Remington shook the prince’s hand and took a moment to think this over. He and Cassidy needed to have a conversation. She should have told him this, not that it mattered. Love was an illusion but if he understood correctly, she believed in the emotion far more than he realized. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll speak to Cassidy about this tonight. She should have told me.”
The prince nodded. “Good afternoon and congratulations.”
“Thank you for everything.” Remington left the palace.
How Cassidy had kept this to herself was beyond him. She must have sent him the letter denying his request. He’d show her the print-outs before dinner with Grannie. Perhaps she had a good reason that he couldn’t figure out right now, but he’d at least ask.
If she believed they were destined for true love, though, they had a problem. Their marriage was a business deal, just as he preferred.
Chapter 7
Cassidy Bright blinked at her image in the mirror. Her hair now went just below the shoulders. She still had brown curls, but they were wavier and softer than her normal disaster. Not a single hair fell in her face.
This wasn’t good at all. She looked a little bit like her mother now. Her pulse sped up. Her mother had once been considered one of the prettiest women on the planet, and her modeling photographs kept food on the table when Cassidy had been young.
She couldn’t look like someone who never took responsibility seriously. Her skin felt jittery. She turned in the chair and stared at the blond, blue-eyed stylist. “Michael, make my hair as plain as you can before I go.”
His sigh exuded his disapproval, and he picked up pieces of her hair from the chair. “But this is the first step toward showcasing your beauty.”
Her choice was self-preservation. Remy didn’t need to see her as anything other than a partner to run their estates. She’d never want to live like her mother’s friends in California. It was better to be smart, but she couldn’t explain that to Michael. He’d not like her answer. She bit her lower lip and formed her argument. “I am living with Remington and I want him to be surprised on our wedding day. Tomorrow we’ll finish the second treatment. Then on my wedding day, when you style it, he’ll get to see the new me.”
Michael made another sigh, but this one sounded more like a concession. “I want everyone to know this masterpiece of hair came from me when it’s time.”
She smiled easily, happy to tell everyone who had helped her. If she had any say, his name would be under hers as the miracle worker that transformed plain into the glamazon her mother had once been. “Of course! Thank you for everything.”
Without waiting she wrangled her remaining hair and tugged it into a ponytail, not caring if she had bumps. Michael stepped back and stared at her with huge bug eyes. “This ponytail thing is so plain. Let me-”
“No.” She interrupted fast. The last thing she needed was to be stylish too soon. She jumped out of the chair. “Tomorrow, we’ll continue. For now, hand me those glasses.”
The color of his face changed and he stood behind her, pointing to her reflection in the mirror. “You don’t have to hide, y’know. Your fiancé might just approve of you more if you show him who you truly are.”
This wasn’t who she was. At least she wasn’t wearing makeup. A hair cut alone didn’t completely change her. She picked up an Angels baseball hat and tucked the ponytail into the back of it, covering half of her face. “Yeah, no. Right now, I want to look like I always did.”
Her phone rang. Michael picked it up from the stylist center and handed it to her. “Your sister is calling.”
Denied. She clicked the button and stuffed the phone in her back pocket without answering it. “I’ll call her later. Thanks again, Michael.”
He hugged her tight. “You’re welcome, darling.”
She waved goodbye at the door and practically raced to the parking lot. The black Mercedes unlocked with a click when she hit the button to open her doors.
No one would suspect that she had done this for Remy—which wasn’t completely true. Part of getting her hair done was for her. She was beyond tired of her sister calling her the ugly duckling behind her back.
Cassidy raced down the street and her fingers clutched the steering wheel hard. The evening air was still warm but chillier than earlier. Once home, she’d grab a cardigan before dinner—how would Gigi be today?
/> Her phone rang again. Cassidy adjusted herself in her car seat and reached into her back pocket, hit deny again and tossed the phone with her sister’s picture on it on the empty seat next to her. “Stop calling.”
She blew past a stop sign and then slowed down. Drat. She was usually a more cautious driver but today she’d been distracted. She unlocked her fingers from the wheel and rolled her shoulders to relax.
Finally, she made it back to the Bei Giardini Manor and handed the keys to Fari in the parking area. Coming here should make her feel more at ease, but she was jittery, for no reason really.
Birds chirped in the late afternoon sky—the golden hue a portent that tonight was going to be one of the gorgeous sunsets they had in Avce.
Cassidy clutched her straps to the backpack with her laptop and strolled in the front door. She unhooked her bag and left it on the side table, intending to see Gigi before going to her bedroom. When, she glanced up she saw Remy walking down the staircase, toward her.
Remington’s forehead was streaked with red and his mouth downturned into a frown. Was he angry? He came in front of her and pointed toward another room. “Cassidy, please come to my study, we need to talk.”
She checked that her baseball cap was still on and followed behind him. He opened the library door and held it for her. As she passed him, she hugged her waist. “Remy, you look serious.”
He motioned for them to sit on the brown leather chairs with a small table between them near the window that overlooked the fountains. “Why are you wearing that hat? You don’t ever wear baseball caps.”
She tugged her ponytail as she sat. “As promised, I went to the stylist today.” She turned her head to show him the length. “It’s going to take until the wedding for me to look presentable. We cut it but it still needs a treatment with some sort of goop. The day after we can finally have a good style. I picked out a dress, and I have a fitting tomorrow at my parents’ house.”
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