by Tamie Dearen
An inkling of hope had sprouted during the ceremony. As Branson spoke his vows, all the air seemed to vanish from the room. The sincere expression on his face… the fervent timber of his voice… She almost believed him. Yet she knew it was an act. The vows were merely the means to an end. At the time, like her, he had no idea the fake wedding would result in a legal marriage. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But she was accustomed to tamping down her dreams.
Then he said the three little words she never thought she’d hear from his lips.
“I love you.”
If only it were true. Just a week ago, he’d announced his engagement to Carina with cool detachment. And hadn’t she seen the couple emerging from her hotel room with Carina in a state of undress? As much as Steph wanted to believe he’d kissed her and suddenly fallen head-over-heels in love, even she wasn’t that naive. If he loved her, he would’ve found some opportunity to mention it during the last two years. If he loved her, he would never have dated Carina, much less proposed to the woman.
Steph’s sensible side screamed at her. Why didn’t you turn him down flat? She should’ve insisted they seek a divorce as soon as possible. But how could she be expected to make an intelligent decision? After not one, but two, mind-altering kisses—tender and sweet, yet full of passion and restrained power—how could she think at all? Her iron will felt a lot like gelatin.
Declaring his love was one thing, but when his fingers read her face and he declared her beautiful with genuine wonder in his voice, her brain turned to warm goo. Nothing made sense. She was only certain of one thing… for all eternity, he’d ruined her for any other man.
“Are you gonna bet?” Cole’s voice brought her back to the present.
With only twenty minutes left in the tournament, many of the participants had abandoned the casino for the celebration party next door. Most of those who remained were clustered around two craps tables in the back of the room. Jarrett and Finn stood on the opposite side of their table, beside Branson, to whom Carina clung like a second skin. Stephanie had turned off her microphone thirty minutes ago. Bran certainly didn’t act nervous, and she was tired of watching Carina hang all over him.
“No, I’m done betting. I think I’ll go upstairs. My ankle hurts.”
“But you have a lot left.” With his neon hand, he pointed to the chips in front of her.
“Yeah.” She stared unenthusiastically at the large stacks of chips. Upon her return to the casino an hour ago, she’d been surprised to learn she’d actually doubled her money earlier at the slot machines. Must’ve been that last angry push of the button before she stomped off after Carina.
At first she’d been enthusiastic about her newfound wealth and had relayed the news to Branson via her microphone, before hobbling back to the craps tables, ready to play. Yet, seeing Branson and Carina together turned her stomach, though she knew it was coming. It reminded her what a good actor he was.
She groped her vacant ring finger, thinking of the simple gold band at the bottom of her purse, while Carina’s diamond engagement ring sparkled in the casino lights. She ought to throw it away, along with the marriage license she’d stashed in the zipper pocket.
“You can’t leave now.” Cole continued his protest. “What about all those chips?”
“I don’t really feel like playing. Why don’t you take them?”
“Are you kidding? Jarrett and I are both cold as ice tonight, but you’re hot—in more ways than one.” His eyebrows danced a jig, coercing a reluctant smile. “Anyway, house rules… contestants aren’t allowed to transfer chips to each other. That’d be cheating.”
“I still think I’ll call it a night.”
“Wait.” His hand gripped her arm as she turned to go. “Why not make a few big bets? If you lose, you lose. But you might accidentally win enough to get ahead of Finn and Branson. Think how they’d hate having to admit you bested them the first time you ever played craps.”
“That would be fun,” she agreed, though instead of Finn and Bran, she pictured Carina’s shocked expression. “What should I do?”
“To start, take maybe a fourth of your chips and bet them on the Pass Line with this new shooter. You’ve been doing well with that bet.”
She pushed a large stack of chips forward. Two rolls of the dice later, her chip stack had grown a bit bigger. Across the table, Carina flicked her blond locks behind her shoulder, laughing at something clever that passed between her and Bran. From the haughty expression in her eyes, Steph wondered if the comment was at her expense.
Steph bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She had to get away from everyone, before she lost it.
“Hey, Cole.” She swallowed hard, hating the way her voice trembled. “Can I add a bigger bet to my Pass Line?”
“You can, but the casino has rules about how much you can add.” He motioned for the boxman and relayed the question. “Good news. There’s no limit to the Odds bet, for the tournament. But you might want to go easy with a four as the opening roll. I wouldn’t bet too much.”
“I’m betting it all.” Before Cole could stop her, Steph pushed her chips forward, in hopes of ending her torturous evening. She couldn’t handle any more stress. Right now, all she wanted was to be home with Ellie, away from Branson Knight and his beautiful fiancée. To be hopelessly in love with her boss had been painful before… now it was excruciating.
Suddenly, her feet were dangling in the air as the room turned in circles. Cole cheered and hollered, spinning her around and sending her crutches crashing to the floor. “You did it! You doubled up!”
“Can’t breathe,” she wheezed. “Put me down.”
Obediently, he let her slide to the floor and steadied her while retrieving her crutches. His expression was full of merriment as he waved across the table, calling out, “Eat our dust!”
It took every ounce of energy Steph had to muster a small fake smile.
Oblivious, Cole said, “Let’s go cash you in before you bet again and lose it all. Finn and Bran are gonna lose their shirts trying to catch up with you, now.”
Daring a surreptitious glance across the table, she found Finn’s mouth hanging open and Branson wearing a confused frown. But it was Carina who caught her gaze. Her steely eyes skewered Steph like a pinned butterfly. She could only watch as Carina slowly caressed Branson’s arm with her delicate, manicured fingers. Then she planted a slow, deliberate kiss on his neck, leaving a red slash of lipstick behind.
The air turned caustic. It hurt to breathe. Steph twisted and hobbled after Cole, blinking through watery eyes. Carina had made one thing perfectly clear. She had staked a prior claim on Branson Knight, married or not.
Branson accepted the drink Carina shoved into his hand, but he couldn’t make himself take a swallow. Sitting on a barstool at a round table, surrounded by hundreds of celebrants, most of whom already sounded drunk, he felt like a man adrift in an ocean.
“Finn,” he called, hearing his friend’s voice in the crowd a short distance away.
“Finn’s not here. What do you need?” Carina’s petulant tone had begun to irritate him like a festering splinter.
“Since I called Finn’s name, I might want to speak to him.”
“Why not talk to me instead? Especially since you ignored me the entire evening.”
“Ignored you? Where do you get off saying that? I spent the last two hours with you.”
“Yes, but you didn’t hear a single thing I said.”
He wanted to deny it, but this time, she was right. When he came downstairs with Cole and Stephanie, he’d split his attention between wagering at craps and Stephanie’s conversation in his ear, rather than listening to Carina’s babbling. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. When Steph turned off the mic, he’d been too worried to give Carina his undivided attention. And Fordham’s phone message was driving him to distraction, as well.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Carina. There was a lot of noise, and I had to listen carefully to keep up the
action on the craps table.”
“What’s your excuse now?” was her sarcastic response.
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but you’re still grouchy. Why aren’t you drinking your champagne? I waited in a long line to get it for you. The least you could do is drink it.”
One drink. Why not? After all he’d been through in less than twenty-four hours, he needed it. Bran picked up the glass and took a sip, wincing at the unpleasant taste. He’d never cared for champagne, but then he didn’t really like the taste of any alcohol, except dry red wines. Might as well get it over with. He upended the glass flute, gulping it down and ignoring the tickling bubbles in his nose.
“Satisfied?” he snapped.
“You know what?” Her frigid voice could’ve made icicles form where her breath landed. “I’m going to find someone else to talk to. Someone who won’t bite my head off. I’ll come back after that drink has time to work.”
Before Bran had time to apologize, she was gone. He strained his ears, but failed to hear any of his friends in the milling crowd and Stephanie was still maintaining radio silence. He was about ready to get out his cell phone, when someone wedged beside him at the table.
“Hey,” said Cole.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Bran said. “Do you know what happened to Stephanie?”
“She went back upstairs. I couldn’t make her stay down here, even though she might’ve won the whole tournament.”
“I thought she’d at least come talk to me before she disappeared.”
“Really? You were busy with Carina, so why would you care if Steph went to her room. You know, Steph was watching the whole time. The longer Carina hung on your arm like a dog in heat, the quieter she got.”
“I had no idea it looked that bad.” Bran wadded up the cocktail napkin in his fist. “You think Stephanie’s upset?”
“In short… yes. Because I think she has a thing for you. Correction. She had a thing for you. Before she left, she asked me to give you a message.”
“What?” His heart stopped as he waited.
“She said, ‘Tell Bran the answer is no.’”
An expletive slipped out before he could stop it.
Cole let out a low whistle. “Branson Knight said a curse word. It just dropped below thirty-two in hell.”
“Shut up, Cole.”
“Guess this means you’re not denying it anymore?”
“Denying what?”
“That you’re in love with Stephanie.”
“It’s complicated,” Bran sputtered. “I need to go talk to her. Can you keep Carina occupied? I thought she would’ve gotten tipsy and gone to bed a long time ago. I can’t believe she’s still awake.”
“Maybe she’s afraid to let her guard down. I haven’t seen her take a drink of alcohol this entire trip. She probably thinks something’s going on between you and Stephanie.”
Branson’s gut churned. This weekend, he’d lost control of everything in his life.
“What’s up, guys?” Finn arrived and a drink slid into Branson’s hand. “I got you a martini. You look like you could use it.”
“You’re right.” Bran lifted the glass and took a swallow. “But this makes two drinks for me. That’s my limit.”
“See ya later,” said Cole. “Met a pretty little filly who likes my lime green hand. Turns out she’s a sci-fi fan.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Finn quipped.
“That’s not saying much,” Cole retorted, his voice receding.
Bran drained his drink and plopped his glass back on the table with more force than necessary. “You have some explaining to do.”
“Me?” Finn faked an innocent tone.
“We agreed on a plan, and it didn’t include putting Stephanie and me on the same marriage license.”
Finn chuckled, unapologetically. “You found out, huh? It’s not big deal. I thought it would be funny. Plus, I was afraid the clerk would ask questions if I did it the other way. Carina and Stephanie weren’t acting very chummy at the office.”
Bran debated telling him about the wedding ceremony, but decided against it. He didn’t want Finn turning his marriage into a joke. “You could’ve told me before Stephanie discovered it by accident.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll explain it to her tomorrow. I hear she’s already gone upstairs. That’s too bad.”
“Maybe it’s good she’s away from Carina,” Branson muttered. “I haven’t told you about Fordham’s voice mail.”
“You heard back already? What did he find out?”
“Not much.” Branson fingered his empty glass. “But he did say her story about the impending hostile takeover is a lie… or at least an exaggeration. Fordham says someone besides me has been gobbling up stocks, but they didn’t make a deal with Aston, like Carina claimed.”
“She made that up so you’d want to rush the marriage? I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I.” The wheels turned in Bran’s head. “What possible motive could she have?”
“Maybe something happened at Parker-Aston,” Finn mused. “Maybe a lawsuit or a failed contract. Maybe the stock value is about to drop, so she wants to make the deal before you find out.”
“Hadn’t thought of that. I’ll put Fordham on it. If something’s going on, he’ll find it.”
“Whatever Carina’s motivation, if she tries to get a bogus signature on that marriage license, she’s in for a surprise,” Finn boasted. “I have to say, I enjoyed pulling that off. I’m looking forward to having her chew me out for it.”
“If she thinks I’m gonna get drunk and rush out for a quickie wedding, she’ll find out the hard way I always stick to my limits.”
“Guess it was a good thing we got you drunk at camp that one time.”
“Nothing makes a lasting impression like puking up your guts,” Branson agreed. Almost as if responding to the memory, his stomach began to roil. Feeling a little dizzy, he gripped the table. “What was in that drink you gave me? Was it a double?”
“No way. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Finn’s voice, heavy with concern, sounded as if it came from a tunnel. “You’re white as a sheet. Are you feeling sick?”
“Yeah. Maybe alcohol on an empty stomach.” The world spun in one direction while Bran’s body twisted the other. He clung to the table for dear life as swirls of nausea hit him. His rapid pulse drummed inside his ear. “I… something’s wrong… I feel crazy.”
“What’s the matter with Branson?” Carina’s voice.
“I don’t know. A reaction to alcohol, maybe. But he’s only had two drinks.”
Branson opened his mouth to say something, but his legs wobbled and gave way. Finn’s voice cried out, and Bran felt his body sliding slowly to the floor, which seemed like a rotating merry-go-round.
“I’ll take care of him,” Carina crooned.
“You can’t handle him by yourself,” said Finn. “Me and the guys will get him upstairs.”
The noise and the voices faded into nothingness.
Chapter 18
With damp hair and flannel PJs, Stephanie responded to the persistent knocking at her door, expecting to find Cole. Instead, there stood Carina, rubbing her hands together in frantic fashion.
“Branson’s had a drug reaction. Finn wants you to come.”
Her heart stopped, but only for a moment. Then a cool calmness overtook her. She couldn’t afford to panic. She had to keep her head, to take care of Branson. He needed her.
“Is he at the hospital? Let me get my purse and some shoes.” She hopped on one foot toward her bedroom.
“He’s next door. We got him in bed.”
“I’m coming.” She grabbed her crutches and swung her purse over her shoulder, following Carina in bare feet. “What happened? Bran doesn’t use drugs. How did he have a reaction?”
“It was an accident.”
Steph didn’t bother to ask any more questions. She didn’t trust Carina’s answers, an
yway.
Cole let them inside Branson’s room, sporting an equally anxious look that almost destroyed her calm façade. Think, Stephanie. Think. Bran is okay. If he were dying, they would have him at the emergency room.
She heard yelling and turned to see Jarrett and Finn standing on either side of the bed, trying to hold down a thrashing Branson.
“What’s wrong with him?” She tottered into the bedroom as fast as her crutches would go, trying to make sense of Branson’s shouts. “Is he having a seizure?”
“No,” Jarrett replied, gritting his teeth with effort. “He thinks you’ve been murdered.”
“Would you please tell him you’re alive?” Finn requested, out of breath. “He’s determined to call the police.”
“Branson!” Stephanie pushed as close as she could while the guys held him still. “It’s me… Stephanie. I’m alive. I’m right here.”
“You’re not Stephanie. Cole killed her!” Bran swiped at Finn’s imprisoning hands. “Listen to me. Why won’t anyone listen to me? Cole took her away and came back without her. Her voice was there, and it went away. She’s gone. She’s dead.”
Understanding dawned, and she stepped back, grappling inside her purse to flip on the transmitter. “Branson? Can you hear me? Bran? It’s Stephanie.”
Bran continued to struggle and shout.
Of course… I’m not wearing the microphone.
Steph wriggled her way next to the bed and lowered her mouth to his ear. “Branson, can you hear me?”
“Stephanie?” Bran froze. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me. It’s Stephanie.”
His head fell back against the pillow, and moisture trickled from the corner of his eye. His voice dipped to a hoarse whisper. “Are you dead?”
“I’m alive.” She put her hands on either side of his face, tears blurring her vision. “I’m right here.”
Finn and Jarrett released him and stepped away, groaning from their sustained efforts.
“Stephanie?” His hands covered hers and groped their way up to her face, cupping her cheeks. “You’re not dead?”
