by Tamie Dearen
Though the baby-faced guy wore a white coat with M.D. emblazoned on the pocket, Steph could hardly believe he was a doctor. With wide eyes and sparse beard, he could’ve been high school aged. As he poked and prodded her ankle, Steph bit her lip to keep from crying out. Breaking out in a cold sweat, she quickly shed her wrap and gripped the arms of the chair.
This innocent-looking kid is a sadist.
She hissed in pain as he twisted it one direction and back the other.
“You sprained your ankle,” he said.
Duh. Thanks for nothing.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
“Walking in those.” She pointed to the abandoned heels beside her chair. “It’s a good thing I changed shoes earlier tonight. The other pair had even taller heels. I’m obviously meant to wear flats.”
“Are you sure her ankle’s not broken?” Branson asked. “Should we go to the emergency room?”
“I don’t think it’s broken,” he explained as he placed a boot on her foot. “But if it doesn’t seem to be improving in a few days, you should go see an orthopedist. Rest it. Ice it. Elevate it. You should be fine.”
“Can you give her something for the pain?” Bran asked.
“It’s not that bad,” Steph interrupted before the doc could answer. “I’ll just take some ibuprofen.”
The doc nodded. “Good idea. Anti-inflammatories like ibuprofen or aspirin or Naprosyn sodium, around the clock. Elevate to reduce swelling. Use these crutches for at least the first twenty-four hours to keep the weight off your foot. This air cast ought to keep you from twisting it while it’s healing.
“I’ll be sure she uses the crutches,” Branson assured the doctor, as he completed some sort of online transaction via his accessible cell phone.
With a few forms signed and final instructions given, the doctor was on his way. The entire appointment took less than fifteen minutes. Bran stood and offered his hand to Stephanie. She accepted his help, irritated that his touch still sent tingles up her spine.
She had to get over him. He belonged to Carina, now. She resolved to forget all about him. She willed the tingles away. I need to concentrate on something else. Okay, I’m at the dentist, and she’s about to drill on my tooth. It worked… right up until the moment Branson spoke.
“Stephanie, I can’t stand that you’re hurting.” His brows were knit in anguish. “I wish it was me, instead.”
Melting. She was literally melting. Her resolve turned to mush. Carina didn’t deserve him. Yet, she had to accept that Bran had chosen her, whatever his reasons.
Bran passed her the crutches, and she attempted to balance on one foot while holding a crutch and a shoe in each hand, her purse strap slung over her shoulder.
“Woops,” she exclaimed, as she wobbled.
Bran’s steadying hand grasped her arm, holding her firmly until she was stable. Then his fingers slid across to the bare skin of her back, eliciting a new set of quivers, more intense than the first.
“You’re shivering.” The tender concern in his voice almost broke her heart, as he dropped his cane and used both hands to rub her arms, warming them with the friction.
Thank goodness that’s all he did. If he’d chosen to share his heat by pulling her against him, she would’ve dissolved in a puddle, right there on the lobby floor.
Her back shouldn’t have been bare. She spied her lace wrap, still on the chair.
“I didn’t pick up my cape. Don’t think I can reach it without dropping something.”
Before she finished her sentence, Branson was groping for the wrap. He retrieved it and draped it over her shoulders, smoothing it in place with gentle hands. “Is that better? It feels really lightweight. You could wear my tux coat.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Guess we need to get you changed out of that sexy dress.” His husky intonation sent blood rushing to her face.
“That’s my plan. I’ll help you find the others and then head upstairs and hit the sack. I’ll be in my warm PJs in ten minutes.”
“I’d rather have you with me. I’ve been missing your voice in my head.”
“Branson, I think it’s time we faced reality. You told me you’re dependent on me, but that needs to change. Once you’re married, Carina won’t want me around. She can’t stand me.”
His laughter startled her. “I don’t care if she hates you. She has no say about my employees.”
“So this is some sort of power play between the two of you?” Fury bubbled to the surface. “What am I? Some sort of pawn in your game? Stuck in the middle?”
“No. That’s not it at all.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, mussing it up in that charming way that tugged at her heart strings. He probably does it on purpose, to torture me.
“I can’t take it anymore, Mr. Knight. I’m sorry. I love my job, but I think I need to quit.” She had no idea how she could afford to take care of Ellie if she quit her job, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to escape, or she would go insane. What good was a crazy mother to Ellie?
“Hold on.” Branson lifted an open hand and tilted his head to the side as if he were listening to their surroundings. “Let’s go upstairs to your room where we’ll have some privacy. You can change clothes, and I’ll… I’ll explain some things.”
Steph blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. “This better be good.”
Chapter 14
The elevator ride was silent, but for the mechanical noises. Though they were the only two occupants, Bran didn’t want to begin his explanation, only to be interrupted if someone joined them on another floor. Besides, it gave him time to consider his approach.
No telling what Stephanie was thinking. She probably wished she’d never met him. What a mess he’d made of things. He’d planned to bring Carina in as a wife in name only, a business deal with mutual benefits. He’d thought she wouldn’t want to interact much, perhaps spending most of her time in Europe. She’d caught him off guard with her efforts to rush the marriage. And he hadn’t anticipated her ability to hurt Stephanie. In fact, his main purpose in the marriage had been for Stephanie and Ellie’s benefit, though he didn’t want to reveal that to her. Now she was threatening to quit her job, and he wasn’t sure he could live without her. He was certain he didn’t want to.
When they reached Stephanie’s door, she stuffed a pair of shoes into his chest. “Here. Hold these, please.” After a bit of rustling noise and some frustrated mumbling, she added a purse. “This, too. I can’t do anything with these stupid crutches.”
“How did you carry all this stuff with your crutches? Why didn’t you let me help you?”
“Didn’t figure you’d want people to see you carrying high heels and a purse.”
“Really? Did you forget I’m blind?”
“I had no idea,” she said, with heated sarcasm.
The hinge creaked, and Bran heard the rhythmic clack of her crutches passing through the doorway. He followed her inside, still holding her things.
“I mean, I don’t care if people stare. I’m already walking around with a cane and these scary eyes. Didn’t you notice I haven’t been wearing my sunglasses?”
“Cut it out, Branson. Why do you put yourself down?”
He shrugged. She probably thought, when he mentioned the chilling effect of his prosthetic eyes, he was fishing for affirmation. In fact, he admired Steph, who acted unperturbed by his appearance, as his Phantom Enterprise partners had since the day they met at camp. He didn’t want or need false flattery.
“That wasn’t my intent. I was simply offering to carry your purse or heels or ribbon or bows. I don’t care what people think. I’m not even embarrassed to be seen holding feminine hygiene products.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever buy one so large that it’s beyond my power to lift by myself.” The purse was jerked from his grasp, followed shortly by both shoes. He followed the sound of the clicking crutches.
“You can’t come in he
re,” she said, in a squeaky voice. “I’m changing clothes.”
“So? It’s not like I can see anything. I can explain things while you’re getting dressed.”
She mumbled something he didn’t understand.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Just... I can’t…” The crutches clacked closer. “Turn around.”
“What? Why?”
“It feels like you’re looking right at me.” A hand gripped his arm and pushed. “Please, do it. Okay?”
Chuckling, he rotated obediently, until his back was toward her, and gathered his thoughts before beginning his explanation. Now more than ever, he regretted his lack of sight. Not because he couldn’t spy on her as she changed clothes. But because he wanted to gauge her reaction as he revealed how the wedding plans had developed with Carina. What if she despised him for it? He might lose her anyway. The one thing he couldn’t do was tell her he was doing it to gain control of the breakthrough CF drug Ellie needed. He wanted her to stay, but not because she felt obligated.
He heard clothing rustling behind him.
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“I’ve dated Carina a few times, starting about a year ago.”
“I remember. I made the initial appointment. She came to the estate, supposedly to talk about an investment opportunity. I was surprised when you actually went on a few dates. I was happy for you.”
“You were?”
“Of course I was. I wanted you to date and get married and have a normal, happy life. But I have to tell you, Carina’s not good enough for you. She doesn’t love you.”
He could tell by her stiff speech she was getting riled up. He had to keep her calm.
“I know that. I don’t love her either.”
“Then why are you getting married?” she shouted.
So much for keeping her calm. “I—”
“It’s hard enough to make a marriage work when two people love each other.”
“It only has to work for a short time. We’re only getting married to exchange stocks in our companies. Then we’ll get divorced.”
Silence. Then the bed springs creaked with weight, and the sound of Velcro ripping free rent the air. Still, she didn’t reply. Was she shocked? Disgusted? He started to rotate toward her.
“Stop. Turn back around. I’m not finished changing.”
“But… what are you thinking?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Her words were terse. The creaking of the bed was followed by the rustle of clothing. “Why do you have to get married at all? Why isn’t it strictly monetary, like all your other deals?”
“Because her dad put a clause in her stock ownership to keep them in the family. My attorney looked at the contract, so I know she’s not lying about it.”
The bed creaked again, more Velcro sounds, and her voice came from a standing position. “If you’re getting a divorce, the stocks aren’t staying in the family. Makes no sense.”
“Originally, the stock ownership was provisional until we’d been married for three years. I guess he hoped, by then, the marriage would last.”
“Originally?”
“Carina got a call from her father tonight. Someone appears to be attempting a hostile takeover, so he’s desperate enough to change the provisional period to three months. Guess he prefers me in charge to an unknown, even if I’m not in the family.”
“Something’s fishy. Too convenient. A sudden need to rush the marriage when we happen to be in Las Vegas.” The crutches clinked and her voice shifted. “You’re not usually that trusting, so I think you have more feelings for Carina than you’re admitting.”
“I don’t trust her either. We did the marriage license thing just to put her off while we check out her story.” He pulled the folded license out of his pocket and held it out toward her, giving it a shake to attract her attention. “Finn told you about this, right? That he put the guys’ names on one license and you and Carina on the other?” What if she didn’t know about Finn’s plan? Maybe she wants to marry Finn.
“Yeah, he told me. But I don’t get it, Bran. If you aren’t in love with her and you don’t trust her, why marry her? No stocks could be worth that much. And I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I can tell you she doesn’t love you either.” Soft thuds of the crutches on the carpet were followed by the sound of a drawer opening.
“I’m not. I’m not marrying Carina. So you don’t need to resign.” He stuffed the paper back in his pocket. Finn had probably shown it to her while they were at the clerk’s office.
“No, no, no. Don’t put this on me.” The drawer slammed shut. “I didn’t mean to give you an ultimatum, like it’s her or me.”
“I’d already made the decision before you threatened to quit. Now, I’m playing along with her, trying to figure out her game.”
Silence again. Then a huge sigh. “I’ll be glad when this drama is all over. I’ve been so frazzled I forgot about finding a present for Ellie.”
“What does she want?”
“Besides a Bridgette doll?” Steph chuckled. “I’ve already told her she’s not getting one of those.”
“What’s Bridgette doll?”
“Nothing. I was making a joke. Believe it or not, I wanted to get her a picture of one of those Elvis impersonators with a personalized autograph. I thought those guys would be all over Vegas, but I haven’t seen one yet.”
“Isn’t she a little young to be an Elvis fan?”
“It started when she was in the hospital with a lung infection. She must’ve watched a solid week’s worth of those old Elvis movies. She knows every song he’s ever sung, by heart.”
Suddenly, nothing was more important than getting an autographed Elvis picture for Ellie. “We’ll go find one of those guys, right now.”
“No, it’s almost eleven o’clock. You need to get back to the tournament. Carina’s gonna be spittin’ mad we’ve been away this long. By the way, you can turn back around now.”
As always, Steph was placing his needs first. It was high time someone started doing the same for her.
“I don’t give a flip what Carina thinks.”
“Yes, you do. You need to keep her happy until you figure out why she’s rushing you into this marriage.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling Finn. He’ll keep Carina occupied. The hotel concierge can find an Elvis for us. And when we get back, I’ll still have at least an hour to play. Meanwhile, I’ve got my people checking out her story.”
“You sure you don’t mind?” Her words came out breathy and excited, and he felt warm all over. He’d give anything to see the smile he’d put on her face. Maybe more to see the one on Ellie’s face when she got her present.
“Not at all.”
“I called every place I know, but only one answered the phone. Like I said, it’s a little late.” The concierge spoke in a medium-pitched, staccato tone, louder than Branson preferred.
“Did you find an Elvis for me or not?” Bran lowered his voice, hoping the concierge would do the same. He didn’t want Stephanie to overhear the extent he’d gone to in order to locate an Elvis.
“They closed at eleven, but they agreed to stay open if you get there by eleven fifteen and purchase the super bonus package that includes three songs, pictures and a video.” The loud-mouthed man didn’t take the hint.
“Branson, I don’t want a package,” Stephanie tugged on his sleeve. “I just want a single signed photograph. I was thinking fifteen or twenty dollars. If it’s more than that, I’ll get her some pink furry dice. She’s six years old. She’ll like anything I bring her.”
“Ellie likes Elvis. That’s what she’s getting. I’m paying for it.” He aimed his face toward her and lowered his brows, duplicating the intense expression that always disturbed Carina.
“Stop doing that,” Steph complained, in a stern tone.
He maintained his severe expression. “You were really excited about it five minutes ago. Nothing has chang
ed. Consider it overtime pay for the weekend. Or hazard pay for spending time with Carina.”
At that, she laughed. “Fine. You win. I think I actually deserve that hazard pay. I was chasing after her so I could chew her out when I sprained my ankle.” She let out another awkward chuckle. “Just stop looking at me like that.”
“You finally admit it bothers you?” Glad to have won the contest of wills, an event that was rare with Stephanie, it still hurt for her to reveal her aversion to his prosthetic eyes. She’d refused to concede the fact the past two years, probably one of the reasons he’d felt so secure around her.
“Yes, it bothers me. I don’t know how you do it, but it makes me feel…” Her voice trailed off.
“What? Creepy? Frightened?” He tried to laugh it off and sound unoffended.
“Naked,” she whispered.
“Naked?” He must’ve repeated the word a little too loudly, because she punched his arm.
“Shhh!” She tugged him away from the concierge desk. “Yes, naked. Like you can look inside my soul. Like I can’t hide anything from you. Like you know all my thoughts. All my emotions. Makes me feel out of control. Surely you get that, don’t you?”
He tried to swallow, but his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “You don’t feel terrified when my eyes seem to be focused on you? Or grossed out? Knowing they aren’t real?”
“What a stupid question! Is this some kind of joke?”
“Mr. Knight, your limousine is here.” The concierge spoke in the flattering tone used by people courting a hefty tip. “Your driver will wait and bring you back to the charity tournament as soon as you’re done. I hope you have a marvelous time with Elvis.”
Bran slid a hundred from his wallet. The bill zipped from his hand so fast he might’ve gotten a paper cut.
Inside the limousine, Stephanie chatted with her usual unbridled excitement. “I can’t believe it. We’re gonna get a video recording with three songs. Plus pictures. Ellie’s gonna be out-of-this-world thrilled. She may forget all about the Bridgette doll. Really, I don’t know how I’m going to top this.”
