The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1)

by KyAnn Waters

  “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 20th century, he made a fortune in steel.”

  “So, your family money goes way back.”r />
  “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.”

  “Yeah, I’d say transportation runs in the family.” She strolled to the next portrait. “And this picture?”

  “That’s Iain Weston.”

  “And this is your grandfather,” she said, stepping down to the next picture. “And your father.” She slanted Trent a look. “Where are the matriarchs?”

  He lifted both hands, palms out. “The Weston men are not sexist.” He grinned. “Our women would never allow it.” Trent turned toward the opposite wall. “Their pictures are there.”

  Cassie crossed the room and studied the four portraits.

  “The first portrait is of Rebecca Elliot,” Trent said. “She married Iain Weston She was one of three triplets. Her, Armstrong and Iain were all Elliots. That’s our coat of arms.” He pointed to the coat of arms over the portraits.”

  “That’s the Elliot crest,” Cassie said. “No Weston crest?”

  He shook his head. “No. We Westons are just your average Joes.”

  “Not all that average,” she murmured. “The ladies are beautiful.”

  “The Weston men do have good taste,” he said. “I wasn’t lucky enough to know any of them. My parents died young and grandmother died a year after I was born. But Grandfather tells me they were formidable women, including his mother Rebecca. She and Iain married against her father’s wishes. There was some kind of rift between her father and her two brothers, but it wasn’t until Elias’ forbade her from marrying Iain that she left Elias and his wealth behind. According to Granddad, she never looked back.”

  “That’s sad,” Cassie said.

  Trent shrugged. “Maybe, but Grandfather said that his mother characterized Elias as a tyrant. So it sounds like they were better off without him.”

  “Do you ever wish you lived in Scotland?” she asked.

  “I spent a year at University of Strathclyde. It’s beautiful, and I feel a connection, but Brettonwood is home. And no, I wouldn’t haul the bricks back.”

  She chuckled as he led her toward a door to the left. He opened the door and they entered a cool, darkened room. “This is my favorite room,” he said. “I used to sit in here and talk to the paintings.” He stopped in front of the first painting on the left. “An original Alexander Nasmyth.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said. “Is it Scotland?”

  ‘Oh yes, Edinburgh, in fact.”

  “I feel as if I could step right into the landscape.”

  He placed his hand on her lower back. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  She smiled. “They all are.””

  His gaze snagged on her mouth. The woman was beautiful.

  Voices in the main room caused him to look in that direction.

  “I doubt they are here, James.”

  Annie.

  “I know my grandson,” James replied.

  Cassie drew a sharp breath and Trent gave a low laugh. “You act as if we’re two teenagers who got caught necking.”

  Her wide-eyed expression said he was right.

  Trent leaned closer.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Kissing my wife.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “It is what Granddad expects to find, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back away when he pressed his lips to hers. She tensed, but he probed her lips with his tongue and she opened, leaning into him. Desire whipped through him, centering in his cock. But she was vulnerable and he was honorable. He inched back and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

  “So how soon do you need to leave?” he whispered.

  She blinked, her attention shifting from his mouth to his eyes. “What?”

  He brushed her cheek with a thumb. “You’re needed in Miami.”

  “Don’t you need me here?”

  He nodded. “Granddad will understand you have to work—for a few days.”

  “I thought I could delay a couple days, but Eterio is panicking. The wedding is Friday afternoon through a Saturday brunch. I can catch a flight back Saturday evening.”

  “I can have my jet ready in a few hours,” Trent said.

  Her mouth formed an o. She shook her head. “I can catch a commercial flight.”

  He placed his hand on her lower back and escorted her from the room. “I think we’re about to have our first argument as a married couple.”

  “There you are,” his grandfather said. He and Annie started toward them.

  “Prepare to be mauled a second time, lass,” Trent said in a light Scottish brogue.

  Her mouth fell open as Trent steered her toward his grandfather.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassie worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she scanned the airline search. She had two flight options--a flight out of Vail tomorrow afternoon with layovers, or leave from Denver. “I can get a flight out of Denver in the morning,” she told Trent. “Can you arrange a ride? Or if it’s too much trouble, I can get a shuttle.”

  “Cassie, this is ridiculous. Let me fly you to Miami.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She had already broken most of her personal rules for this marriage. She kissed him, touched him, and by all that was unholy, she’d discovered she genuinely liked him. Just what she needed. To actually fall for her husband. Maybe she should book a shuttle to Denver tonight. She glanced at Trent. Not likely he’d let her.

  “Henry will take you wherever you want to go,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She clicked through the flight options. With a few clicks, she booked a round trip ticket, returning on Saturday evening. The anxiety rioting through her belly eased. By tomorrow evening she’d be in Miami, home where she belonged, and doing what she should be doing. Sultry nights, bright lights, where iguanas were feral and remained in the wild.

  She spent another hour, sending emails to Eterio and the venue. Ramona at Castillo del Paraíso assured her that everything was on schedule. Finally, she called Maryanne.

  “I’m coming home,” she said as soon as Maryanne answered. “Can you pick me up?”

  “Of course. About time. You had me in a panic.”

  “I’ll explain when I get there, but I need you to keep my schedule clear after the Bello wedding.”

  “What’s going on, Cass?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.” She disconnected before Maryann could apply the third inquisition.

  “What time does your flight leave?” Trent asked.

  She swiveled her chair around and looked at him. He leaned back in his office chair, his dark gaze settling heavily over her. “Ten fifteen. So I’ll need to leave pretty early. When should we tell your grandfather?”

  “This evening.”

  Guilt niggled. “He’ll be upset. And in his condition...” Her heart lurched. “I’m sorry.”

  Trent leaned forward, muscles stretching the fabric of his shirt across biceps and chest. “Don’t be. Granddad will be disappointed, but we’ve accomplished the main goal: marriage.” Trent rose and strode toward her.

  She glanced down, unwilling to meet his gaze. Why did he have to be so understanding? He’d be paying her while she was in Miami. He stopped beside her and leaned against the counter, the heels of his palms braced on the counter at his sides. Her gaze was level with his leather belt and his—

  She swung her gaze up to his face. “My leav
ing wasn’t in the contract,”

  He surprised her by grinning. “I overlooked that clause, didn’t I? A momentary lapse in my negotiating judgment. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll deny it.”

  Cassie blinked, uncertain how to reply, then grinned. “And you said you didn’t get where you are by overlooking details.

  His expression sobered. “I admit; personal negotiations are new territory for me.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I booked a return flight for Saturday night.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tonight.”

  She suddenly became aware of the warmth of his hand beneath hers and yanked her hand away. “Of course. I mean,” she smiled, “I assumed you’d feed me since I’m living here.”

  “I had something different in mind.” “Will you have dinner with me? As in a date?”

  A date? “What about your grandfather?”

  “Unlike the last two nights, he normally retires early. We will spend time with him before he goes to sleep, then go.”

  “You don’t have dinner with him?”

  “Rarely. It makes him feel old for his grandson to dine so early with him. He prefers relaxed conversation.” Trent stood. “Come on.”

  “Okay.” Cassie rose.

  He led her upstairs, to the third floor, to his grandfather’s bedroom. “Thirty minutes, then dinner?” he said.

  She nodded and Trent knocked.

  “Come in,” James called.

  Trent opened the door, then stepped aside for her to precede him. He followed her into the room.

  James sat in the chair near the window. He set a mug he was drinking from on a table between him and another chair. His eyes brightened when they entered.

  “It’s about time you brought my granddaughter to see me,” he said to Trent.

  Tent slowed and Cassie realized he was purposely hanging back. She reached James and knelt beside his chair. Surprise flickered on his face and he glanced at Trent, before saying to her, “You’re a good lass.” He patted the hand she rested on the chair arm. “You look beautiful, sweets.” He turned toward Trent. “Your wife takes my breath away.”

  “Mine as well.”