The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1) (21 page)

The phone on the nightstand rang.

“Thank you.”  Trent’s sleepy voice wormed into Cassie’s dream. And then he was there, aligning his body with hers and placing sweet kisses along her neck and shoulder.

She hummed and stretched. A delicious ache tingled between her legs as the previous night came rushing back in a flood of erotic memories.

“Good morning.” She rolled over to face him.

“Seven a.m.” His morning voice was as sexy as the stubble that shadowed his jaw.

“Mmm. Good.”

“What time do you have to be downstairs?” he asked.

“In about an hour.” She draped her arm over her eyes. Today, she really would love to stay in bed, but the brunch started at ten and she still had a job to do.

“Take your shower. I’ll order room service,” he said.

“Just—”

“Just coffee,” he said at the same time. “I know, but you should at least eat toast. After all, you did work late last night.”

She sat up and slid her legs over the edge of the bed, but kept the sheet tucked around her breasts. “Caffeine and stress,” she murmured. “Perfect combination.”

She smiled and glanced over her shoulder. Why was she nervous? He saw her naked last night. They’d had sex. God, they’d had incredible sex. Still, prancing around nude in front of a man wasn’t part of her usual morning ritual. Not seeing an alternative, she dropped the sheet.

“I’ll just be a minute.” She scurried to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart raced but her breasts tingled and warmth settled between her legs. She glanced in the mirror and groaned. Mascara smeared beneath her eyes and her hair was a nest of snarls. Turning on the shower, she stuck a hand beneath the water, waited until it warmed, then stepped beneath the sprays.

Twenty minutes later, feeling clean and refreshed, Cassie wrapped a towel around her torso and exited the bathroom. Fresh coffee waited on the table. Trent had his back to her. While she’d showered, he’d slipped on his boxers. She discerned the tension in his shoulders and noticed the bend of his arm—the phone pressed to his ear. What was wrong? He spoke in tones too low to hear. 

“That bitch!” he growled.

That she heard. Cassie quickly and quietly grabbed a pair of slacks and a silk cami.

“No, of course I didn’t,” he snapped. “How the fuck am I supposed to fix this?”

Cassie’s cell phone pealed out a loud ring tone. Trent spun. His mouth held a tight line and red crept up his neck. Their gazes locked. Was he angry with her?

The cell phone rang again.

Cassie clutched the clothes to her chest, grabbed her cell, and retreated to the bathroom.

“Hello,” she said, and dumped her clothes onto the bathroom counter.

“Oh my god, Cassie. What is going on?” Maryanne blurted. “My phone started ringing fifteen minutes ago.”

“Why?” She pulled on panties and her slacks.

Maryanne chuckled, but it sounded like incredulity. “Oh come now. Think really hard, Cassie.”

Fear twisted through her. Since meeting Trent, she had told too many lies and accumulated too many secrets to even guess what Maryanne could be referencing.

“I knew you were full of shit when you said there was nothing going on between you and Trent,” Maryanne said. “Now the world knows.”

Cassie released a slow exhale. “I don’t think kissing on the dance floor is that big of a deal.” She pinched the phone between her shoulder and ear then slipped her arms into her bra and snapped the front closure.

“Actually sweetie, it’s a huge deal when the man you’re kissing happens to be engaged to someone else.”

“What?” She froze.

“Ever heard of Lindsey Freemont?”

“Of course.” Who hadn’t. The woman loved the press. Cassie wasn’t a big movie goer, but she had seen Lindsey’s last film with Zac Everest.

“Well, your boyfriend knows her very well.”

Cassie dropped the toilet cover and sat. “What do you mean?”

“If Trent is still in your hotel room, he knows her as well as he knows you.”

Nausea rolled through her belly. “Why do you assume he’s here?”

“Cassie! He was all over you.”

And then she had invited him to her room and into her bed.

“But he’s not engaged to Lindsey.” He was married—to her.

“Yeah, sweetie, he is. There are pictures of them together in Miami last month. Apparently they’ve been keeping their relationship private. But it’s not private any more. And you, my sweet Cassie, are now part of a bona fide love triangle.”

Nothing Maryanne said made sense. If Trent was engaged, he wouldn’t have needed her. “There must be some mistake. I know he’s not involved with anyone.” As she said the words, she acknowledged she didn’t know much about Trent.

“He’s involved with you…and he’s engaged to Lindsey Freemont. Look for yourself. It’s all over the internet.
HollyRumor.com
broke the story. Last night, the photographer wasn’t taking pictures of you and Trent because you were guests at the wedding. He must have recognized Trent. Apparently, last week at the party you arranged, he and Lindsey announced their engagement.”

Cassie’s brows furrowed. “That’s impossible.” She was there, getting married to Trent!

“Ah, no, it’s true. Lindsey made the announcement on
Weekend Watch
.” All the stars made appearances on the program, mostly to plug their upcoming and new release movies.

Cassie’s head spun. “This isn’t possible.” Lindsey Fremont hadn’t been at James’ birthday party.

“Cassie, there’s more. You’re the headline this morning. Trent isn’t coming off well either. Listen to this.
A week after getting engaged, Lindsey Freemont has competition
.
Even for Hollywood, Trent Weston moves fast
.” Maryanne took a deep breath. “There are pictures of you and Trent at last night’s party.”

None of this made sense. “What else do they say?”

“It’s mean and unflattering.
Billionaire playboy loves to play with the help
. They know your name and they’ve linked you to me. My phone has rung off the hook this morning.”

“This isn’t happening.” Cassie leaned over and braced her forehead against her palm. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” The Weston party was supposed to land them on the event planner map from LA to New York. This was not what she and Maryanne had meant.

“What plan?”

“Nothing. I better go. The brunch.”

“Okay, but call me if you need me. What are you going to say to Trent? Will you see him again?”

She had to see him. He paced in the other room. Her insides twisted. How was James going to take all of this?

“I’ll figure it out later,” she said. “I better go.”

Cassie slipped on her blouse then quickly fingered her hair into a French braid.

When she quietly opened the door, Trent was still on the phone. He’d pulled on pants but was still shirtless.

Cassie took four steps to the counter near the TV and scooped up her small over-the-shoulder handbag. She tossed her phone inside. She’d worry about packing up and checking out later. Right now she just wanted out.

“I have to go,” Trent said into the phone. “Just do whatever you have to. I don’t care about me. Protect Cassie.”

Cassie froze as he turned.

He stared for a long moment, then set the phone on the counter. “You heard, didn’t you?”

“Heard you’re engaged? Heard about Lindsey Freemont?  Heard that apparently I’m your flavor of the day? Yes, I’ve heard all of those things.”

“I’m not engaged,” he said. 

“But you are involved with her.”

“Not anymore.”

“I don’t care.” She whirled and hurried toward the door.

Strong fingers seized her arm before she got three paces and he turned her around.

“Cassie, I ended my relationship with Lindsey before my proposal to you.”

“Our business arrangement, you mean.”

“After last night, I think we can both acknowledge we’ve moved past the terms of our contract.”

Our contract.
The words sounded so cold. They were cold. Cassie released a slow steady exhale. “Let me go.”

He hesitated.

“I’ll hear you out,” she said.

He still hesitated, then released her and stepped aside. She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “What’s going on, Trent? Were you engaged to her?”

He pulled over the chair and sat across from her. “I never felt pressured to get married and have a family. And then my grandfather became ill. I thought Lindsey wanted the same future as I. She lied.”

Sadness, mingled with jealousy, stabbed soul deep. “Did you love her?”

“Yes—no. I don’t know. I believed what we had was enough. Even without her lies, I realize now that we wouldn’t have made a good match. I knew she was angry when I broke it off, but I fail to see what good she thought would come from announcing an engagement.”

“Jealousy, because of me?”

Trent shook his head. “She doesn’t know about you.”

“I’m sure she does now. My name is linked to yours all over the internet. They know where I work. The paparazzi is calling Maryanne.”

He nodded. “I know. I just got off the phone with Tomas. He’s doing damage control. One of his many talents is publisher of
After Hours
. He’ll put the rumors of my engagement to rest.”

A small amount of relief washed over her. “Maybe she thought there was still something between you?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I made it very clear we were through. She tried to explain away her lies. I broke it off with her, and she left furious. I never expected to hear from her again.”

“So you were engaged?”

“Privately, yes. But, as I said, I broke it off.”

Cassie stood. “Why do I feel like I’m not getting the full story?” Maryanne’s words echoed through her mind. Cassie didn’t need a full explanation. It was all on the internet. Another realization hit. Maryanne said that Lindsey told everyone at
Weekend Watch
that she and Trent had announced their engagement at James’ birthday party. Trent had gone from being engaged to Lindsey to married to her within twenty-four hours.

Cassie stared. “Oh my god, you broke up with her at James’ birthday party.”

Shock registered on his face.

She’d hit the mark.

Cassie shook her head. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

He stood. “None of it matters. It’s over.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just a temporary business arrangement.” She headed for the door.

“Cassie, wait.”

Her hand poised on the handle of the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “I have a job to do.”

“I didn’t put the ring on Lindsey’s finger. I put it on yours.”

Cassie rushed down the corridor headed for the elevator. She swiped at tears that she couldn’t control. Trent had given her the ring meant for Lindsey Fremont. What had she expected him to do, pick out a ring just for her? Only men in love did that. Two people came into view up ahead. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t let them see her cry.

Up ahead the exit sign glowed green. She hurried through the door, pushed into the stairwell and kept going down the stairs. The muffled click of the door shutting sounded above her. How had things gotten so tangled up? Because she’d fallen in love with him, that’s how. If this had been nothing more than an attraction, she might be angry, but she would have gotten over it, and they probably would have remained friends. As it was now, she didn’t know how she could possibly see him again, much less carry on their deception.

James…. What would happen to James? His heart couldn’t take the shock of his new granddaughter-in-law divorcing his grandson a week after they’d married. She descended two flights before she finally sat down on a step. She stared through tear-blurred vision at the ring Trent had put on her finger. It hadn’t been a real promise to love, honor and cherish, but to give her a ring he’d intended to give another woman the day before was damned cold. It hadn’t occurred to her, but now she understood why he’d so conveniently had the ring in his pocket when James told him to put it on her finger at the party.

When Trent made his business proposal, it hadn’t been necessary for him to tell her about Lindsey. But his obligation had changed when she’d invited him into her bed. Or had it? What would his confession have sounded like?

“Excuse me, Cassie, before I fuck you, I want you to know that the day I proposed our business arrangement I broke up with the woman I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. But don’t be hurt, I don’t know that I actually loved her.”

She’d told Trent she could do complicated, but she’d had no idea what complicated really meant. That he could jump from one woman to another in the same day hurt. 

Why the hell had he come to Miami? He’d said he’d had business, but he’d openly pursued her, the woman he’d contractually agreed not to sleep with. Yet last night was no one’s fault but hers.
She’d
called him.

Cassie pushed to her feet and started down the stairs. She had to get through this brunch, then she would go home and deal with her emotions. She would send Tent home and call James and tell him she’d been delayed for a day. Surely she could pull herself together by then.

Cassie entered the hallway at the next level, located the elevator, and pressed the button for the lobby. The small ballroom they were going to use for the brunch could be accessed only from the East corridor off the lobby.

She reached the lobby and hurried from the elevator. A group of people stood on the far side of the lobby near the main door. Cassie slowed. Several people carried cameras. One gentleman in cargo shorts and a teal polo shirt set up a tripod. Realization of what was happening hit her like a freight train. Reporters. No worse. Paparazzi. By all that was unholy, they were looking for Trent. How did they know he was at the hotel? A horrific thought caused her chest to tighten. What if they weren’t there for Trent? What if they were there for her?

Her head spun. She had to get away before they spotted her. She would never reach the East corridor without being seen. She spun and forced herself to walk casually back toward the elevator.

An older couple approached. Cassie neared them, and the woman said, “Oh my, it’s her, the billionaire’s playgirl.”

Commotion broke out behind her.

“It’s her!” someone shouted.

“Cassandra Adams,” another called.

“Is Trent Weston here with you?”

Boisterous voices broke out in a chorus. Cassie sprinted toward the elevator. Her pulse jolted and adrenaline fired through her system. Oh my god, they were going to catch up to her. The floor numbers above the elevator door descend from three…two…one. The paparazzi closed in on her. She reached the elevator as the doors slid open. Three people exited and Cassie darted past the last person and slapped the sixth floor button. Her hands shook as she hit the door close button half a dozen times. The door started its slow slide closed and she pressed herself against the back wall when the man at the head of the pack lunged and tried to stick his hand between the closing doors. A thud hit the door as the elevator dinged and began its ride up. Too bad the asshole didn’t lose a finger. Cassie sagged against the wall, releasing a slow exhale. Her life had just become a nightmare.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and she waited while a man got on. He punched the button for the seventh floor. At the sixth floor, Cassie got off. She found a chair and sat down next to a window overlooking the street. Traffic was light but…Her heart pounded. On the hotel breezeway and valet parking, a crowd gathered. At least two dozen reporters and paparazzi packed the area. Obviously, Trent Weston and his women were big news.

She covered her mouth with a hand. How was she going to get out of the hotel? Was she supposed to hide in her room until they left? How long would that take? And what about the brunch?

Cassie pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Maryanne’s number. The phone rang four times and she began to panic.
Come on Maryanne, pick up.
What would she do if she couldn’t get her?

The line connected and Maryanne said, “Hey, Cassie, what’s up?”

“We have a problem,” Cassie said. “Paparazzi are all over the hotel. I barely made it out of the lobby with my skin attached to my bones. Can you get over here and manage the brunch? You’d have to make it fast.”

“You’d think those vultures would have better things to do,” she muttered. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you. I’m going to sneak out a side entrance. After the brunch, will you pack up my room and check me out of the hotel?”

“Dammit, is it really that bad? Why don’t you just wait it out in your hotel room?”

Because Trent might still be there. Because if they catch me I’ll fall apart. Because I never thought I’d marry a man and be the other woman at the same time. “I just need to leave.” She needed to get away from the paparazzi and Trent. “Do you still have the key card I gave you?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’d forgotten I had it.”

“I owe you big for this,” Cassie said. “Just throw everything into my suitcase. And be prepared when you get here. I’m not kidding when I say they’re everywhere. The parking lot, the lobby, hell they might be waiting outside my hotel room door.”

“Where are you?”

“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?”

How could she answer that? “Mom, you don’t need to worry.”

“I see,” her mother said. “Fooling around with an engaged man is the same as—”

“I know,” Cassie cut in. “It’s fornication. But that’s not what happened. He isn’t engaged to another woman.”

“Then why is Lindsey Fremont saying he is?”

“People lie, Mom.”

Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “Come home, Cassandra. We need to talk.”

“Not now, Mom. I’m sorry. I’ll call you. Please, just trust me.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but ended the call. Once she arrived at Sophia’s, she checked in with Leonard, the doorman, then let herself into the apartment and crawled into bed.

Please, God
, she prayed,
don’t wake me until this nightmare is over.

***

“Cass. Cassie.”

Cassie started awake. A blurry form hovered over the bed. She cried out and scrambled to the other side of the bed.

“Cassie, it’s me.”

Her brain finally registered the voice. Her brother Bobby stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

Heart pounding, she clutched the blanket. Cassie glanced to the clock and groaned. She’d slept for four hours.

“What’s wrong with you, Cassie?” he demanded.

“What’s wrong?” she snapped. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“You aren’t answering your phone. We’ve been worried, wondering where the hell you were.”

Blinking, she glanced at the doorway. Oh god, it just got worse. Her mother, Sophia and Mia stood behind Bobby. “What are you all doing here?”

“It’s my house,” Sophia said.

“You know what I mean,” Cassie said.

“We’ve been searching for you for hours,” Mia said. “We called your friends and your boss.”

“If we could have found him, we would have called your husband!”

Her brain barely comprehended Bobbie’s words.

Her mother stepped forward. “Is it true Cassandra? Are you married to this Trent Weston?”

Cassie blinked. “What?”

“Are you married to Trent Weston?” Her mother turned to Mia. “Give me that paper.”

Mia handed their mother a newspaper and she thrust it in front of Cassie. Cassie glimpsed the paper’s name,
After Hours
, then gasped at sight of the headline