She fought down her anger. The picture wasn’t the issue. If her cousin had taken it and then just sent it to her she wouldn’t have cared. But that wasn’t the case. She’d gone behind her back and shared it with the world. Okay, maybe not the world, but the whole state. “I... you,” she struggled for the right words. “You had no right, Chloe. You never should have sent it.” She placed both hands on the table. In time she’d forgive her cousin, but right now she needed her to leave. “I can’t do this now, Chloe. Some other time maybe. I’d rather if you left for now.”
“Come on, Addie. It was just one picture. Besides, now look at the two of you. You’re living together and he loves you. Heck, I saw a picture of you on the cover of The Star Report leaving a Starbucks in Connecticut together.”
Addie began to fold up the newspaper when her cousin made no move to clean up. With her patience gone, she snapped at Chloe. “That’s different. My own cousin didn’t take that picture and send it in.”
Chloe snatched the newspaper from Addie’s hands. “Fine, be that way. Call me when you get over it.” After stuffing the paper back in her bag, Chloe spun on her heel and marched out.
Still in the kitchen long after her cousin left, Addie took another long sip from her flavored water. Every time she thought about what her cousin did, the urge to scream overwhelmed her. Everything her cousin said was true. No harm had been done. Regardless, Chloe had been way out of line. She’d made the situation even worse by not coming clean when Addie first admitted how much it bothered her.
Family. Maybe the makers of dictionaries should change the definition of the word. A more appropriate description than the one in current dictionaries would be “group of people whose sole purpose is to drive you crazy.”
Addie eyed the wine refrigerator built into the kitchen. Something a little stronger than water sounded like a good idea. If she had just one now, she’d relax a little and still be able to get some work done. Later before Trent called and she told him about Chloe, she’d have another one or two.
In the end she’d worried over nothing. When she told him about Chloe’s confession, he hadn’t raised his voice or shown any evidence that he cared who sent the picture in. He had used a few choice words in terms of what he thought of Chloe and her behavior toward Addie. Before then she’d never heard Trent swear like that, but during their conversation he’d sounded like her brothers when they got into heated arguments with each other and they knew their mother wasn’t around to hear.
Perhaps thanks to the way Trent handled the news, she climbed into their bed an hour after their phone conversation more at ease. Anger toward Chloe remained, but at least her worry about Trent’s reaction no longer ate away at her. Even so, she remained awake a long time tossing and turning. Without Trent’s six-foot-plus tall frame filling his side of the bed and his arms wrapped around her, the king size bed felt more like an empty abyss rather than a warm comfortable sanctuary. Sometime well after midnight Addie drifted off into a restless slumber.
***
Addie hit print and then opened another file on her computer. That morning she’d woken up early and arrived at her office before seven o’clock. She’d worked straight through until lunchtime when a florist arrived with a large arrangement of flowers and a card from Trent that read “Thinking of you. See you tomorrow. Love Trent.”
The first time she’d ever received flowers at work, she placed them right next to her computer so she could see them as she worked. Addie remained in front of her computer until four when she’d left with one thing on her mind, a nap. Whether because of her poor night’s sleep or early morning, she feared she’d fall asleep right there at her desk. More grateful than ever for her short commute now, she’d gone back to their apartment and straight to bed not even bothering to change out of her work clothes.
Now though, after a two-hour nap and a snack, her brain could function again. So dressed in one of Trent’s T-shirts and some sweatpants, she sat in his home office finishing a proposal. When she’d first moved in, he offered to convert one of the two guest bedrooms into an office of her own. After she’d declined, he’d insisted she use his whenever she wanted. According to him, he didn’t use it much anyway. He preferred to do most of his work at Sherbrooke Enterprises and only brought stuff home when he had no other choice.
From the credenza behind her, the printer stopped. A quick peek at the device revealed it needed paper, an easy fix, assuming she could find some. If it were her office she’d keep reams of paper close to the printer itself. Since the credenza had no drawers, only shelves lined with books, she’d need to look elsewhere.
When a thorough search of the tall three-drawer file cabinet near the printer turned up nothing, she glanced around the room. “Where would he keep paper?” The bookshelves on the far wall contained only books and a few binders. Other than the closet, the only place she hadn’t checked was the desk. She pulled open the top middle drawer. As expected it contained only pens and a box of business cards. The extra deep drawer on the left contained more hanging files. “Please have some paper.” She tugged open the top right-hand side drawer. Once again out of luck. She started to close the drawer when she caught a glimpse of the picture Chloe sent in.
Addie picked it up and unfolded it. Even though Chloe had taken the photo with her camera phone it was a good picture. Now that she examined it in more detail, she realized she should’ve suspected someone that worked at the bakery took it. She could see the front windows and door, which faced the street in the picture. Only a person near or behind the counter could have snapped the picture from that angle. She read the headline above the picture. The whole day seemed liked a lifetime ago.
Prepared to put it back, she folded it up. Before she dropped the paper inside what had been underneath it caught her eye, a neat spiral bound binder with the name Miranda Bergman typed under a picture. More curious than anything, she picked it up and found a similar one under it with the name Vanessa Mitchell under a photo. Without a second thought, she picked that one up as well as a third and final one with the name Serena Tasca on the cover. As she held the final slim binder, a manila file folder, which had been stuck to the bottom of it, fell onto the desk. When she saw the name Addison Raimono hand printed in bold black letters on the side tab, she stopped breathing.
Sitting down, she pushed the other binders off to the side and opened the folder with her name on it. Her hand shook as she read the top page, which listed her basic personal information such as her birthday and address. Unable to stop herself, she turned the page and read more. Each page she read added to the file’s mysterious purpose. It contained everything from where she’d been born and gone to school, to when her family had first immigrated to the United States from Italy in the early 1900s. There were pages documenting her work history, her driving record and even her credit score.
When she reached the end of the file she closed it. When had he gotten such information and why would he want it? Had he done a background check on her when they first started dating to make sure he could trust her? To make sure she wasn’t someone out to use him for his money? Wealthy people signed prenups for that reason. Maybe he’d thought to protect himself long before they approached that stage. Was that what those other binders were about as well? Had he dated those women too in the past?
Should she read those? Addie chewed on her nail and eyed the stack. They might contain the same kind of personal information her file did. “They’re none of my business,” she said even as she picked up the top one and studied the cover. A picture of an attractive twenty-something-year-old woman with dark brown hair occupied the corner space, the name Serena Tasca underneath. Neither the name nor the face rang any bells, but the picture on another one did. Miranda Bergman, a woman close to Addie’s age, had begun to hit media headlines when Addie had been in high school. The sole heiress to an international restaurant chain, her father also owned a professional sports team, and for a short time she’d been engaged to a wealthy Gre
ek businessman’s son. With slow movements, she opened the binder. The first page was similar to the one in her file. It contained Miranda’s birthday, parent’s name, and several address around the country. The binder also went on to list Miranda’s educational background and hobbies. Unlike her own, Miranda’s credit score and driving record were not mentioned. Instead, her estimated net worth glared back at her. What surprised Addie more than anything else in the report was the benefit analysis near the end. She’d never seen anything quite like it and the more she read it, the less it made sense.
Curious if the other two binders contained a similar analysis, she reached for Serena’s file again. This one too contained a boatload of information as well as the same bizarre analysis. Addie skipped the third one altogether. Even without looking she knew what she’d find. Her hands shaking, she stacked everything back up only then noticing the date in the bottom right hand corner of the cover page, July 8 one week after he bumped into her outside the bakery. In fact all three had the same date, killing her idea that these were all women Trent had dated in the past.
Did the pages in her folder have a date on them? She grabbed her own folder back. Sure enough, the cover page was dated one day after her and Trent’s picture showed up in the paper. The blueberry muffin she had after her nap rolled in her stomach, and she thought she might be sick.
There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this. There just had to be. Addie took in a deep breath, exhaled and repeated a few more times until the queasiness in her stomach went away. Think. What purpose could he have for this information? Determined to come up with something, she propped her chin up in her hands. As the seconds ticked by nothing came to mind that could explain what she’d stumbled upon. Her only option was to ask him.
Talk about a great conversation opener. “Hey, Trent, why do you keep personal dossiers of women in your desk?” Not only that, what if she didn’t like the answer? This wasn’t just some client she worked for. She loved him and he loved her. Or did he? For the first time since he’d said the words, she doubted him.
Knock it off. Hear what he has to say first. She repeated the sentiment at the same time her phone rang, Trent’s ring tone filling up the room. After a moment’s hesitation she answered it.
“Are you home yet?” he asked after they exchanged greetings.
“I left work early. Right now I’m just doing some work in your office.” She looked at the files before her, the women on each cover starring up at her.
“Are you okay? You’re not getting sick again are you?” His voice took on concern.
Not anymore. “No, I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Weeks earlier she’d had strep and it had drained her.
“Me either. I missed you next to me,” Trent answered. “Did you get the flowers I sent?”
“They’re beautiful. I left them on my desk.” Should she question him now? She wanted answers more than anything, but a face-to-face conversation might be better. “When do you think you’ll get home tomorrow?” With any luck he’d get back early.
“If everything goes as planned, by nine.”
She stifled a groan. Of all the nights for him to get home on the late side. “Do you expect any problems?” Unable to look at the women’s faces any longer, she stuffed the binders back into the drawer.
“No, but you never know. Then there’s traffic. If you have plans or want to work late go ahead. I’ll text you when I’m half an hour from home.”
“Okay, sounds good. I do have a lot of work.” She heard the uncertainty in her voice. How she wanted to question him now. She didn’t know how she’d ever make it through the whole day tomorrow without knowing the truth.
“Get as much done as you can. I don’t want anything distracting you when I get back.” Unlike most times, his sexy voice didn’t set her pulse racing.
Addie focused on making her voice sound as normal as possible. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Get a good night sleep.”
She hung up the phone knowing one thing: she’d not be getting a good night’s sleep tonight.
Chapter 16
The living room looked perfect and the music in the background added the final romantic touch. Now he just needed to arrange the food for dinner. Addie would be home any minute. As promised, he’d sent a text telling her he’d be home in thirty minutes, but while she’d believed he’d been in the car when he sent the message, he’d been home arranging the living room for a romantic dinner. Tall, white taper candles flanked a flower arrangement on the round kitchen table he’d moved into the living room. While he’d considered using the dining room, he wanted the table he set to be intimate. The overhead lights were dimmed as low as possible. Additional candles flickered around the room adding to the atmosphere. An open bottle of wine stood ready near his wine glass. All in all, he’d done a good job in his opinion. Addie or perhaps his sister would’ve done even better, but this was his first attempt. In the past when he’d wanted a romantic setting for dinner, he’d pick up the phone and make a reservation. Tonight, though, he didn’t want an audience, just his Addie. The two nights he’d gone without her had been two of the longest he’d ever experienced.
Back in the kitchen, he opened the first takeout container from Lucerne. Although the restaurant didn’t offer takeout service, they’d agreed to prepare meals for him. They’d even had one of their employees deliver it. A young man perhaps seventeen or eighteen who most likely bused tables had arrived right on time and Trent had given him a generous tip.
Thinking about all the meals he’d eaten there, Trent tried to arrange the plates of the food the way they did. When the containers were empty, he eyed the plates. They were close but not quite as nice as when the restaurant served them. For tonight they’d have to do. Using the plate covers provided by the restaurant, he covered the food as the front door opened.
“What’s all this?” Addie’s voice reached him.
Right on time. “A surprise.” He walked over and greeted her with a kiss. “For our anniversary.”
“Anniversary? What are you talking about?” Addie eyed him as if he’d lost his mind while away. “If you mean of our first date that’s not today.”
Trent slipped his fingers under shoulder bag and slipped it off her arm. Then he took her hand and led her to the table. “Four months ago today, I bumped into you outside the bakery.” How that one day had changed his life. “If not for that accident, I wouldn’t have met you.” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. “Don’t move; I’ll be right back.” Addie nodded but rather than smile at him, she frowned.
When he returned with the prepared plates, she remained where he’d left her, the frown as well as another emotion he couldn’t label on her face.
“You cooked this?” she asked with amazement when he pulled off the plate cover.
“No. The fabulous chefs at Lucerne did. I just put it on the plates.” While he could cook simple things like pasta and eggs, anything more elaborate was out of the question. Reaching for the wine, he poured some in her glass and then his. “Are you okay? You look tired.” Dark purple smudges were under her eyes and her face looked pale.
“I didn’t sleep well with you gone.” She picked up her fork, the frown changing to a tight smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Conversation over dinner remained minimal and Trent assumed her lack of sleep was to blame. He hadn’t slept well either, but right now weariness didn’t bother him. In fact, he suffered from just the opposite. His insides were vibrating and he suspected he could run the Boston Marathon and set a new course record.
“Sit there and I’ll get dessert.” He removed her plate when she said she was done. Although she’d claimed the food tasted delicious, she’d eaten less than half while he’d cleaned his plate.
Like dinner, he’d ordered the same dessert she’d ordered the night they’d dined there.
“You didn’t need to do al
l this,” Addie said when he put down the dessert.
The music in the background changed as the romantic ballad by a female singer he didn’t recognize changed and a male belted out a classic rock ballad. “Yes, I did,” he said. Unable to wait until after dessert as he’d planned, Trent cleared his throat and reached for her hand across the table. “I wanted tonight to be special. A night you’d remember forty years from now.” His mouth grew dry and he paused in his speech for a drink.
Addie didn’t move or say a word as she watched him but her mouth curved downward, her frown from before back in place.
“Before you, I didn’t think love was in the cards for me. I knew it existed, but I’d never experienced it. Now, I can’t imagine my life without you.” He pulled out the diamond and platinum ring he’d hidden under a flower petal. “Addison Raimono, will you marry me?” He slipped the ring onto her left hand.
Addie’s eyes looked at the ring, then back up at him, but rather than smile or cry out with joy she pressed her lips together and swallowed.
“Addie, this is where you’re supposed to say yes.” He tried to joke, but a sinking sensation set into his stomach.
“Trent, I love you and there’s nothing I’d like more than to marry you.” She said the words he wanted but her tone made his stomach sink further. “But I need to ask you something before I accept this ring.”
“Ask me anything.” He had no secrets to hide from her.
“Do you promise to answer honestly?”
Trent nodded, prepared for a question about his past.
Addie took a deep breath. “The other night I did some work in your office. The printer ran out of paper so I looked for more. I found something strange in your desk.”
He kept only work related stuff in there. “Okay, what?”
Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5) Page 18
