by Tamie Dearen
Finn demanded Branson’s attention. “Come on, Bran. Lay your bet. Cole’s the shooter.”
Bran grabbed a handful of chips. “Put them on Don’t Pass. Cole’s an awful shooter.”
“You want to bet against him?” Finn asked. “Rather insulting.”
“Absolutely,” Bran confirmed. “He has dreadful luck. Cole even bets against himself.”
He heard Steph in his ear again. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about from me, Carina. Branson’s my boss, and nothing more. I work hard to make him happy because I need my job.”
It hurt to hear the words from her lips, though it wasn’t the first time. He had no false illusions about her feelings.
“Snake eyes—shooter dies,” yelled someone, likely the stickman.
“Ha! That was fast.” Finn chuckled.
Branson had won, but he was more interested in Steph’s conversation.
Stephanie spoke. “I admire your drive. Had to put my career on the back burner once Ellie was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.”
“New shooter.” The stickman’s voice intruded.
“Leave it all on Don’t Pass,” Bran said, pushing his chips forward.
“Are you sure?” Finn asked.
“I’m sure,” Bran said, impatiently, trying to hear Steph’s conversation.
“Oh, no! That’s terrible,” Steph exclaimed. “No, I won’t tell a soul.” Then her voice dipped low. “Forgot this was on. So sorry.”
His receiver went quiet.
“Yes!” Finn shouted, his fist pounding Bran’s arm. “We won again. You’re hot, tonight, Branson. Think I’ll just copy your bets.”
“Your loss. I’ll bet Pass.” Bran strained to hear Stephanie again, but his ears rang with silence.
“Where did the women go?” he asked Finn.
“Uhmm,” Finn’s voice undulated, apparently a result of his head turning as he scanned the massive room. “I don’t see ’em. But they were headed toward the front, where all the slot machines are. Do you want me to fetch Carina for you?”
What could he say? If he mentioned wanting Stephanie back, Finn would tease him without mercy.
A new shooter rolled a four on the come-out.
“No, I don’t need her. Fifty thousand on the odds,” said Branson.
“Are you crazy?” Finn’s voice went up an octave. “Are you trying to lose everything early, so you can go upstairs? It’s not happening, buddy. This trip is about spending time together, so you’re staying to the end.”
Finn had hit the nail on the head, but Bran only grunted in reply. No use arguing or trying to explain his sudden discontent.
The crowd around the table exploded with excitement.
“Four the hard way,” shouted the stickman.
“You lucky dog.” Finn’s voice split his eardrum as a hand gripped his arm and shook him like a rag doll. “Can’t believe it.”
Jarrett and Cole let out congratulatory whoops and pounded him on the back. A huge stack of chips slid into Bran’s waiting fingers, and he grinned, the old thrill of winning rushing back like an avalanche. Maybe I’ll hang around and play, after all.
As Branson’s stack of chips grew, so did his sense of ease in the noisy surroundings, even without the comfort of Steph’s voice. Yet he wished she’d return to watch him play. Besides, he was worried that she’d spent too much time alone with Carina. Bran was wary enough to handle her, but Stephanie was often naively trusting.
After a particularly lucrative round, Cole suggested they take a break. So the four moved to a table in the bar. His friends were feasting on nachos, but Bran was in the mood for something healthy. Unfortunately, nothing nutritious was available in the bar. Finn seemed particularly insistent that Bran should have an alcoholic beverage, but Branson resisted.
“I’ll stick to water, for now. I don’t want to mess up my concentration while I’m winning.”
“You’re winning,” Cole lamented, “and I’m losing everything but the shirt off my back.”
“How do I know you haven’t lost that as well,” Bran teased. “I’m blind. For all I know, you’re sitting here naked as the day you were born.”
Cole shot back, “Because if I’d lost any of my clothes, we’d be surrounded by women right now.”
Bran’s laugh sent him into a coughing fit.
“Big ego, much?” Jarrett asked Cole.
“You know how it is,” Cole answered, drolly. “I’m from Texas, where everything is big.”
Bran didn’t need eyes to guess what gesture Cole made to accompany his claim. This time, Bran laughed without spilling his water. Finn’s answering groan carried across the table.
“I don’t know about that, Cole,” Jarrett quipped. “You seem to be running short… very short in fact. Short on luck.”
Cole scooted close and wrapped an arm around Branson’s shoulder. “I’m hoping some of Bran’s luck will rub off on me.”
His friend’s deliberate attempt to make him uncomfortable was working, but Branson knew one sure way to make him stop. He turned toward Cole and threw his both arms around his neck, pulling his face close and planting a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.
“Aaaak!” Cole disentangled himself and pushed away from Branson, chuckling. “Come on, man. You’re gonna ruin my chances with the ladies.”
“Give up, Cole,” said Finn. “These ladies will take one look at that neon hand and go running.”
Interesting that Cole had chosen the less socially-acceptable prosthetic for the tournament. But Branson wasn’t completely surprised. Cole had always been a bit of a rebel.
“Forget the glowing hand,” said Jarrett. “It’s those cowboy boots that look out of place.”
“You’re just jealous,” Cole asserted. “Should we get you a boot-leg? Oh, wait… Would that be illegal?”
“Very punny,” Finn added.
“It ought to be illegal to wear cowboy boots with a tux,” Jarrett avowed. “That look would scare away any decent woman.”
“Who said I wanted a decent woman?”
Bran knew better. Cole was the kind of guy who threw his coat across a puddle so a woman wouldn’t get her shoes dirty.
“Bran’s getting all the single female attention, right now,” Jarrett complained. “No one’s interested in a loser.”
“Female attention?” Bran thought he must be joking.
“Of course you don’t know they’re all hanging around the craps table watching you play. It’s a good thing you can’t see it. You’d have an even bigger head.”
Bran figured his buddy was kidding, so he ignored him. “There’s plenty of time for you guys to make a comeback before one a.m.”
“Carina’s on her way over here, by herself. Wonder what happened to Stephanie.”
His concern for Stephanie peaked. He’d had enough of bowing to Carina’s wishes, merely to get his hands on that pharmaceutical company. He could afford to provide Ellie with the drug for the rest of her life, rather than attempting to make it readily available to all in need. His gut churned. That option felt too selfish. He clenched his fists in frustration. Perhaps he could simply delay the wedding as long as possible while he pursued a backup plan.
“Branson, darling,” Carina’s strident voice gushed, as her hand slid across the back of his neck and onto his shoulder. He felt her breath on the side of his face, while an overwhelming floral scent threatened to gag him. He’d tried to explain to her how sensitive he was to heavy perfumes. “I need to talk to you alone. It’s urgent,” she rasped in his ear.
“Why?” he whispered back.
“Gotta call from Dad. We need to get married. Pronto.”
Branson let Carina lead him out of the bar to speak in private, though he suspected he would share the conversation with Finn, if not all three of his friends. He hadn’t a clue as to why Carina would want to rush the marriage. They walked on soft carpet, voices fading in the background. His cane hit something hard. A piece of furniture.
“There’s a couch here,” she explained.
He wanted to get this conversation over with quickly and return to check on Stephanie.
“What’s this all about, Carina?”
“Sit down. I’ll explain everything. A lot happened since I left.”
He perched on the edge of the seat, too tense to sit back against the cushions. She sat down so close their legs were touching from the hips to the knees, but he was too impatient to enjoy the contact. “I’m listening. Make it fast.”
“We need to get married right away. Tonight would be best.”
“No way. It’s not happening.”
He leaned forward, preparing to stand, but her hand gripped his sleeve and tugged him down.
“Wait. Hear me out.”
As he sank back to the couch, he twisted to face her, aiming his gaze in a way he knew agitated his fiancée.
“Ughh! Please don’t stare at me like that. It gives me the creeps.”
With deliberately slow movements, he took his sunglasses out of his inside coat pocket and slid them on. “You’ve got two minutes.”
She let out a huff of air. “Fine. Dad called to tell me someone’s been buying up the individual shares of Parker-Aston. It started months ago, but picked up pace this week. Dad’s worried about a hostile takeover.”
Branson shook his head. “I don’t see how that could happen. There aren’t enough individual shares available. I already acquired most of them.”
“That’s not the worst. Today, Dad found out the Astons’ son-in-law sold off their shares. It was almost half their total stock holdings.”
“At what price? I offered them almost double market value and they turned me down, cold.” Branson fumed. If he could’ve gotten his hands on those stocks, a marriage to Carina wouldn’t have been necessary.
“You did? When? Trying to make a deal behind our backs?”
“Before we started dating. I’ve been upfront. Have you?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Bran was excellent at interpreting intonations, and hers had the hesitancy of a lie. No surprise. He knew better than to trust her. “Dad’s furious about the stocks. He’s so mad, he’d sell you some of the family shares outright, if he could. He’s had his lawyer on it all day. They think we can get around the family restrictions on the Parker shares, even if the marriage only lasts ninety days.”
“This is ridiculous, Carina. I’m not rushing into a marriage without a signed pre-nup, no matter what.”
“I e-signed it thirty minutes ago. Call your attorney and verify it.” Her flat tone gave nothing away. “No changes to the contract. Ten percent of Escapade Resorts to me. You get eleven percent of Parker-Aston.”
It was a good deal. The shark inside him wanted to pounce on it, despite his misgivings. Ninety days. He could handle being married to Carina for ninety days. But something about the whole thing made his skin crawl.
“I need to think about it. Talk to my lawyer.” He tightened his grip on his cane, the information swirling in his head. It wasn’t in his nature to make a hasty decision.
“Every day we wait adds to the risk. We need to call an emergency board meeting on Monday. We’re here in Las Vegas. We could get married tonight or in the morning.”
“Too fast. I don’t rush into things. Not doing anything until we get back to Chicago.”
“If we wait and get a license in Illinois on Monday, the earliest we could get married is Tuesday. Anything could happen in forty-eight hours.”
Branson was already shaking his head. It felt like someone was pushing him toward the edge of a cliff. “No. The answer is no.”
“Why can’t we at least keep our options open while you call and talk to your attorney? You’ve got nothing to lose. Come with me to get a marriage license before the office closes. Dad’s people researched everything. It only takes five minutes to get one in Las Vegas, and they’re open ‘til midnight.”
“No use. I’m not getting married here.”
“Don’t say no until you talk to your people and confirm what I’m saying. If you still don’t want to get married in Vegas, we can throw the license away. But you might change your mind. If we get it, at least we’ll have the option. The chapels are open twenty-four hours a day.”
“I don’t want to miss the tournament.”
“We’ll be there and back in fifteen minutes. Finn can come. Please. Do this much for me. Talk to your people, and you can mull it over while you’re at the craps table. I promise I won’t be upset if you still insist on waiting.”
He checked his tactile watch. Nine twenty-two. “Okay. It’s a waste of time, but I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” Her hand slid across the back of his neck. A swell of the nauseating perfume preceded the kiss she planted on his cheek. “Wait here. I’ll grab Finn.”
“Carina! Wait!”
“Be right back,” called her receding voice.
His rib muscles contracted, refusing to allow his lungs to expand. Abandoned. Strange surroundings. He couldn’t even find a restroom without the help of a stranger. He gripped the arm of the couch and fought back the threatening panic, blood pounding in his ears. I’m not alone. My friends will be here any minute. Fumbling in his jacket he found his cell phone.
“Call Stephanie,” he rasped from his dry throat. Why did I call her instead of Finn? Or Jarrett? Or Cole? He ought to hang up and call one of the guys, but it was Stephanie’s voice he wanted to hear.
It rang so many times, he thought it would go to voicemail. At last, her sweet voice answered. “Branson?”
“Steph. I… can you find me?”
“Branson? What happened? Where are you?” Her voice shook.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember which way we turned when we came out of the bar.” Why hadn’t he paid attention? That wasn’t like him.
“I don’t know how to find you.” Her words were shrill and panicky, with a catch at the end.
Branson felt like a jerk for scaring her. Why couldn’t he have sat quietly and waited for Carina to come back? It’s not like he was going to be attacked by wolves while sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Vegas.
“Don’t worry, Steph. I’m fine.” He took long, deep breaths, attempting to slow his racing heart. “Carina said she’d be right back. I shouldn’t have called.”
“Carina?” She said the word like it tasted bad. “Carina left you alone somewhere?”
Oh, no. I’ve heard that tone before. She’s peeved. Gotta fix this before she starts a fight. “Yes, but she’s coming right back. I’m fine. Really. I felt like I was suffocating, but now I’m breathing fine. It’s nothing. Just out of practice. Probably missed hearing your voice in my ear.”
“I’m taking care of that right now. I’m turning the mic back on.”
“But we’re talking on the phone.”
“I’m hanging up, so you can’t stop me from doing what I’m about to do.” Stephanie had that grim, forced tone she only used when she was extremely angry.
“What are you going to do?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“Something that might get me fired. But I don’t care.” The phone went dead. After a few seconds, her voice spoke in his ear. “I’m going to give Carina Parker a long-overdue piece of my mind.”
Chapter 11
Stephanie’s hands were shaking with barely controlled rage, and every bit of it was targeted on Carina. An hour ago, the woman had kindled her sympathies, playing her like a fool, with the tearful confession that she couldn’t have children because she had a rare heart condition.
“I don’t really hate children,” she’d confessed. “I didn’t want to admit it, but every time I see you, I’m reminded I’ll never be a mother.”
Following MawMaw’s advice, Steph was convinced she’d discovered her adversary’s sad secret. In an instant she’d forgiven Carina’s insults and rude remarks about Ellie. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure that must be awful.”
Carina sniffed. “I felt lucky when Bran and I started datin
g. I love him so much. Since I can’t have children, I’m going to devote myself to taking care of him. Bran will get a hundred percent of my attention.”
Good point. My attention will always be divided. Ellie has to be my main focus. “I’m so glad you told me this, Carina. I worry about him. Feels good to know you care so much.”
“Willing to give me some advice?” Carina looked from the corner of her eye, appearing nervous, but sincere.
“Guess so. Don’t know why you’d want advice from me.”
“You see, Bran and I get along great in the bedroom—fireworks, every time.”
Carina paused, as if she expected Stephanie to respond, but the thought of Branson sleeping with Carina made her feel like she’d swallowed a pint of castor oil. Struggling to appear unaffected and hoping Carina didn’t intend to share more details, she kept her mouth shut and stared at her feet while they threaded their way through the aisles of slot machines and tables until they were within sight of the entry doors.
Carina stopped at one machine that looked the same as all the others and proclaimed, “This is my favorite.” She slid onto the swiveling chair, patting the empty one beside her, before continuing her uncomfortable speech. “Even though we’re obviously compatible, Bran and I have been fighting a lot. It’s like he’s been in a bad mood ever since we got here. He criticizes everything I do.”
“Of course he’s in a bad mood. He doesn’t like unfamiliar surroundings. And it’s noisy, to boot.”
Carina punched a button on the machine, producing a series of ringing bells and flashing lights. “He’s got his friends with him. What’s the big deal?”
“Are you kidding me?” Steph snapped, before tamping down her unruly temper and continuing with what she hoped was detachment in her tone. “Branson hates being dependent on anyone for anything. When he’s home, he can handle stuff without any help. In the casino, he can’t hear well and can’t find his way around.”
“I still think he’s trying to get attention.” Carina’s gaze never left the slot machine as she continued to punch the button, producing a cacophony of sounds that was beginning to grate on Steph’s nerves. “I guess it doesn’t matter if we fight, anyway. The makeup sex is great.”