by Tamie Dearen
“You could make an effort to be sensitive about it,” Steph suggested.
“Branson needs to put on his big-boy pants and grow up. He’s being a baby.”
“No, he’s not,” Steph defended, barely keeping her voice civil. “He’s trying hard, and he’s not even complaining, because he wants his friends to have a good time. I think he’s doing an amazing job of adapting and keeping his cool.”
Carina paused her play and rotated until she faced Steph, sporting a smile with a hint of scorn. Her huge almond-shaped blue eyes blinked slowly, examining Steph like a lab specimen. “I suppose that’s how we’re different, Stephanie. You’re an employee, paid to be loyal no matter what your boss does. Whereas, I’m not afraid to point out Bran’s faults. Frankly, I’m good for him. With my help, he’ll change a lot… for the good.”
“The difference between you and me is you want to change Bran, and I lo—” She choked and coughed, cutting off her word. She’d almost blurted out I love him like he is. “I don’t think Branson needs to change.”
“How sweet.” A sneer marred her flawless face. “Spoken like a naïve fan club president. You wouldn’t think he was so perfect if you knew him the way I do—up close and personal.” Carina purred the last word like a bad actress in a B movie.
“I didn’t say he was perfect—”
Carina silenced her with a raised palm. “Hold on. My phone’s ringing.” She withdrew her cell from her purse and answered it. “Wait a second,” she told the caller. “Let me move somewhere more private.”
Steph’s angry retort had died on her lips. She’d sat in stunned silence as Carina strode away with her phone to her ear, down the aisle and out the doorway. Too angry to rejoin the men at the craps table, she’d turned woodenly to the slot machine in front of her. Again and again, she’d stabbed at the bright red button on the machine, while her mind boiled, replaying the conversation in her head.
Now, having had plenty of time to fume and learning Carina had abandoned Branson, she was about ready to explode. She stood and faced the approaching woman, her arms crossed so tight she could barely breathe. Her mind rehearsed a scathing monologue, designed to point out all the ways Carina had misjudged and mistreated Branson and why she didn’t deserve to marry him.
Unsuspecting, Carina drew closer, chatting on her cell phone with a serious expression, her gaze scanning the casino in every direction. With Carina almost in range, Steph sucked in a deep breath, ready to blast the woman to smithereens, but her opponent took a sharp turn to the left.
“No… No, no, no. Come back here, you witch.” Steph took off after her. She made the left turn, only to find Carina was nowhere in sight. Where did she go? Must be heading back to the craps tables.
Retracing her steps as best she could remember, Steph wound her way toward the back of the casino, but she saw no sign of the guys. There were way too many men in black tuxedos—they all looked alike from a distance. At last, she spotted Carina and rotated toward her, her right heel catching and twisting as she turned.
“Dang, that hurt.” Attempting to ignore the pain, she continued toward her adversary, albeit at a slower pace. Carina and Finn appeared to exchange heated words as Carina tugged him away from the craps table. Before Steph could reach the table, the pair left, with Cole and Jarrett trailing behind them.
She picked up her pace, wincing each time her right foot came down. “Jarrett!” she called. “Wait up!”
Jarrett stopped, his eyes widening when he spotted Steph. Moving back, he fell in stride beside her, offering his arm. “You’re limping worse than me. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she claimed, though she accepted his arm with gratitude, giving some relief to her ankle. “Where’s everyone going?”
“I have no idea,” Jarrett admitted. “Cole told me to come. He said something about Bran getting married.”
“Now? A quickie Las Vegas wedding?” What little she had put in her stomach threatened to reappear. “I have to stop them. She’s not in love with him. I don’t think she’s capable of loving anyone except herself.”
“I happen to agree with you.” Jarrett’s eye’s crinkled in the corners as he flashed her a grin. “But I’m not worried. Finn’ll find some way to stop it.”
“Hope you’re right,” she mumbled, suddenly determined to help Finn with whatever diabolical plan he might have.
“Hey.” Jarrett waved his hand at her, then put a finger to his lips. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, pointing to his ear. “Is that thing on?”
The mic! She’d forgotten to turn it off. What had Branson heard? She replayed the last few minutes in her mind, and sighed with relief. She hadn’t said much, other than criticizing Carina. And she’d already decided it was worth risking her job to prevent the marriage. Fumbling inside her purse with her left hand, she murmured, “Bran, we’re on the way,” before flipping the switch.
On her next step, the toe of her sandal somehow caught on the carpet, wrenching her already-throbbing ankle. The next thing she knew, she was hopping around on her left foot, gripping the sleeve of Jarrett’s tux for dear life. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”
“Steph. You’ve got to see a doctor.”
“No. Please. It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Right now, I have to get to Branson so I can talk him out of this marriage.”
The room tipped, as Jarrett swept her into his arms. “I’ll get you there, but then you’re seeing a doctor.”
She almost commented she was too heavy for him, but he might’ve taken the statement as a remark about his prosthetic leg. In fact, he carried her with seeming ease, no strain evident on his face. Except for his slightly uneven gait, she would never have known he didn’t have two normal legs.
“Thank you, Mr. Alvarez. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
“More like your Zorro.” His deep brown eyes sparkled. “Happy to rescue a damsel in distress.” He smiled, displaying perfect white teeth. She studied his face—strong and masculine. He was certainly handsome, but there was no thrill at his touch. How am I ever going to get over Bran if I’m not even attracted to a guy this hot?
At last, they caught up with the others, and she spied Bran, bowed in private conversation with Finn. Carina’s sins momentarily forgotten, she searched his face for signs of panic. Finding him composed, she breathed relief.
“What’s this?” Carina’s strident voice startled her. She whipped her head toward her adversary, who clapped her hands with delight. “Didn’t know you were such a slut, Stephanie. You came with Finn, and now you’re with Jarrett?”
“Shut up, Carina.” Steph wanted to say so much more. To tell the woman exactly what she thought of her. To scream at her for pretending to love Branson. To let her know exactly how selfish she was. But all that would have to wait until Steph could get Carina alone. She couldn’t make a scene now and embarrass Branson.
Bran’s brows creased as his head turned toward her, glaring as if he could see her ensconced in Jarrett’s embrace. She wriggled, trying to free herself.
“You can put me down, now,” Steph whispered to Jarrett.
He complied, lowering her feet to the floor, but his arm still supported her weight. A tentative step revealed the ankle more tender than before, so she gave in and leaned against him.
Carina’s face contorted in a sneer, and Steph knew she wasn’t going to let it go. “Maybe you and Jarrett should get a marriage license, too. Is that what you’re after, Steph? Trying to land a different billionaire husband, since I took Branson away?”
“Carina, don’t be a—” Finn froze in mid-sentence, his furrowed brows lifting, while his downturned lips curled up at the corners. In two long steps he reached Jarrett and Steph, though he continued his address with his back to Carina. “Actually, Carina, that’s a great idea. Stephanie should get married while she’s here...” Finn put a silencing finger to his lips and winked, before he dropped to one knee. “She should marry me.”
Steph knew the invitation w
as a joke, designed to make Branson jealous. It wouldn’t work. She’d already explained Bran wasn’t attracted to her in a romantic way. Why didn’t Finn believe her?
“No one’s getting married,” Branson declared as he moved closer. “I get your point, Finn. It was a stupid idea.”
“No.” Finn stood and faced Branson again. “I’m with Carina on this. You should get a marriage license tonight.”
Carina’s eyes widened, as she gaped at Finn. “You agree with me?”
“Sure. What does it hurt to get a license, Branson? Keep your options open until you talk to your lawyer tomorrow.”
What does Bran’s attorney have to do with this? Guess Carina still hasn’t signed a pre-nup agreement.
“Fine. We’ll get a license.” Branson replied, his nostrils flaring, “But stop joking about marrying Steph.”
Was Bran actually jealous? Did he care about her, after all? Steph’s heart caught in her throat.
“I’m not joking.” Finn turned his head to Stephanie and caught her gaze. “I’m still waiting for your answer.”
“We’ve already talked about this.” Bran’s deep voice rumbled, as dangerous as his dark expression. “You’re not stealing my personal assistant.”
Steph’s heart plummeted into her gut, landing with a sickening thud. She turned her head, blinking back sudden tears. Why couldn’t she get it through her thick head? He didn’t love her. He needed her. Stephanie forced a lump of air down her constricted throat.
“Finn…” She extended her hand toward him. “I accept.”
“No.” Branson’s face was blood-red, heavy jaw muscles bulging. “I won’t allow it.”
“Finn isn’t being serious, Branson,” Carina interjected, one brow arched high on her forehead and fingers tapping out a tense rhythm on her crossed arms. “But, Branson… I want to know why you’re so concerned about Stephanie?”
“Carina’s got a point,” said Finn. “You’re marrying her, so you don’t need Steph anymore.” Finn covered his mouth with his hand and coughed, a gesture Steph suspected was covering a chuckle, though it didn’t seem funny to her.
Finn’s hilarity was short-lived, as Branson shot forward, grasping his collar in a balled fist and pushing him stumbling backwards into the path of passersby who yelled and scattered out of the way.
Steph gasped, thinking they would both end up in a pile on the floor, but Finn managed to stay upright and shake free of his grasp. Bran had succeeded in moving them beyond earshot, but it was obvious the two were exchanging angry words.
“We should do something.” Steph feared Finn had gone too far, this time.
“They’ll be fine.” Jarrett yawned.
How can he be so relaxed at a time like this?
“Don’t you care?” Steph punched his arm to get his attention and pointed toward Bran and Finn. “This could be the end of their friendship.”
“Nah.” Cole appeared on her other side. “They’re like an old married couple. They’ve been fighting like this for fifteen-plus years. Finn knows just how much he can push Bran’s buttons without sending him over the edge.”
Branson’s hands flailed like a madman as he vented his wrath on Finn.
Steph mumbled, “Hope you’re right.”
Chapter 12
I’ve had enough, Finn.” Branson seriously considered taking a swing in the general direction of Finn’s jaw. He might’ve done it, if they hadn’t been in a public place.
Finn shook out of his grasp. “Hold on, buddy. I know you’re riled up right now, but later on, you’re going to thank me.”
“For stealing my personal assistant? I’m supposed to be grateful?”
“Ignore that part for a second, and listen to me. You don’t want to marry Carina this weekend, do you?”
“I’ve already told her I won’t marry her, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I only agreed to get a marriage license to put her off.”
“So, you need me there, to make sure things don’t get out of hand.” Finn’s hand came to rest on his arm, as if he thought all was forgiven.
Bran flung his hand away, fostering his fury. “Marrying Stephanie is your way of doing that?”
Finn huffed in exasperation. “In the fifteen years we’ve know each other, have I ever stabbed you in the back?”
Bran hesitated, though he knew the answer, loathe to admit his anger was unfounded. “There was that time at camp when you put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping, trying to make me wet the bed.”
“As I recall, that was in retaliation for when you put Kool-Aid powder in the shower head,” Finn said, wryly. “And if that’s the worst you can think of—”
“Okay. You’re right.” Bran took a deep breath and held it, willing his heart rate to slow. “But why are you doing this? Why involve Stephanie?”
“I think Carina’s pulling a stunt of some kind, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. I can only think of one reason she’d insist on getting a marriage license tonight, when you’ve already sworn you won’t marry her in Vegas. She’s planning to trick you into getting married here.”
“What?” Bran’s mind raced. “Is there some kind of crazy law in Nevada where she can get us married without my participation?”
“She might think she can get you drunk and talk you into it. Or maybe she’s underhanded enough to get someone to fake the wedding official’s signature.”
“All the more reason not to get a license tonight.”
“You really believe she’ll accept that answer?”
Branson caught a whiff of steak cooking and his stomach did a flip. An hour ago he’d been starving, but now he had no desire to eat. “I think she’ll hound me all night if I don’t agree to go. But I still don’t see how it helps for you and Stephanie to get a marriage license.”
“Mostly, it’s an excuse for all of us to come along.” Finn’s voice faded for a second, and Bran assumed he was checking over his shoulder. “We’ll be getting two marriage licenses at the same time, and I’ll be helping you sign yours. I’ll get the guys to distract Carina, and I’ll mess things up—put the women on one license and you and me on the other.”
“Like Carina won’t notice? I mean, I’ll admit I’d be happy if she and I didn’t end up with a legitimate license, but she’s not stupid.”
“I’ll keep it away from her, somehow.”
Branson mulled the idea over in his head. “I could insist you hold onto it for safekeeping until I hear back from my attorney.”
“It might work. I like it. We have one other problem, though.” Finn’s voice grew closer and quieter. “You don’t want Steph to know the real reason you’re marrying Carina, do you? She’s got to be suspicious, after all this.”
“No one knows the truth but you. Correction—you and Fordham. Nothing gets by him.” Bran used his left hand to rub his temples, while gripping his cane like a lifeline. “This is turning into a nightmare.”
“We need to think fast. Everyone’s waiting.” Finn came closer and lowered his voice. “Evidently, Steph has a hurt foot or ankle. I’ll come up with a plausible explanation when I take her to get it treated.”
“Steph’s hurt? What happened?”
Panic threatening once again, he turned and headed to find Stephanie. If she was injured, she needed him. A hand grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.
“Hang on, Bran. That’s the wrong direction.”
“I have to get to her.” Overwhelmed by a lack of control, Branson felt like he was being buried alive. “I’ve had enough of Vegas. Forget the tournament. Forget the marriage license. Let’s fly home, now.”
“Calm down, man. Steph’s okay. I’ve been watching her. She just limped over to the couch without any help, so it can’t be too bad.”
“Need to go home,” Bran demanded, his head swimming.
“Listen to me.” Hands gripped Bran’s shoulders, and Finn spoke in his face. “It’s our fault you’re panicking—me and the guys. I should’ve realiz
ed what was happening two years ago. I never should’ve let you hole up inside that mansion all this time. I hope we didn’t wait too long to force you back into the real world. Good thing Fordham finally called us.”
That got his attention, but his heart still sprinted. “Fordham called you?”
“He said he was worried. He claims you won’t listen to him.”
“He shouldn’t have called. It’s not your responsibility.” Bran wanted to crawl in a hole. He’d always prided himself in his ability to govern every aspect of his body—physical, mental, emotional. When had his control started unraveling? He forced his body to relax, one muscle fiber at a time. “You can let go. I’m not leaving.”
“Sure you’re okay?” The hands released their vise-like grip.
“Maybe a little mortified I can’t seem to regulate my reactions. But yes, I’m okay. I don’t know why my head’s so messed up.”
“I don’t either. It’s so not like you. But I might know the solution.”
“I’m all ears.” Might as well listen—Bran was fresh out of ideas.
“The old Branson—the one who traveled the world and spit in the face of fear—that Branson laughed all the time. No matter what.”
“I’m older now. I’ve got more responsibilities. And more common sense.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re suppressing everything because you decided to become proper.”
“Proper?” Branson started to object. Then he recalled something that might explain a lot. “I wonder… Remember about two years ago, when I had that huge fight with my dad?”
“You two are always arguing.”
“This was worse. He discounted everything I’d ever done. Phantom Enterprises didn’t impress him one iota. I was so furious. I hadn’t thought of it ‘til now, but ever since then, I’ve been trying to prove myself to him. I’m not trying to be proper, exactly. It’s more like trying to show I could beat him at his own game. That’s why I started Escapade Resorts—to compete with his Good Knight Resorts chain.”
