Trent remained tense until Carrie moved away from Sam and sat next to him. Now, with all as it should be, he relaxed. They’d gone beyond the part where he’d called her an idiot on the video so all should be well.
Only she hit rewind, sending it all the way to the first bank video footage.
“I’ve already seen this part,” he grumbled.
“Oh, it gets better every time you see it,” Sam responded with clear mirth in his voice.
“Don’t you have something to do?” he snapped. “I don’t actually need you now that Carrie’s here.”
Sam sighed and pushed himself up. “If you are planning to stay in, I’ve got someone I need to see.”
Normally, Trent didn’t like his driver wandering off in the middle of the workday, but right now, he didn’t care if Sam had some early morning delight, just as long as it wasn’t Carrie and it got Sam out of his sight. “Go. You aren’t needed today.”
“Shouldn’t we check on the office?” Carrie challenged.
Sam shook his head. “You can’t. Major crime scene. The police will let you know when you can get back in.”
Trent glared at him. “And how do you know this?”
“Detective Pascal mentioned it when he dropped off the video.”
“When did he do that?” Carrie asked.
He grinned at Carrie. “While you two were getting ready for your bubble bath yesterday.”
Trent growled. “I do not take bubble baths.”
Sam laughed. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”
The moment he left the penthouse through the front door, Trent released a deep sigh of relief. “Good riddance!”
Carrie leaned her head against his shoulder, which improved his mood immensely, then started up the video she’d paused during Sam’s unnecessarily long departure.
Trent’s tension returned. “Servants should quietly disappear from a room, not make a big production about it.”
Carrie smiled up at him. “He’s certainly a sassy employee, but he’s really good.”
“At what?” Trent’s tension doubled.
“At driving, getting information, locating us when the police took us to different precincts.”
Trent grudgingly had to give Sam credit for those skills. “Yeah, but the last one, knowing where I am without my telling him, cost me hours in jail today.”
“How?” She paused the video while she waited for his response.
“When given my one phone call, I called my lawyer, told him we’d been arrested and to get us out, then hung up without telling him my location. Sam can always find me. It never occurred to me David would require an address.”
She shook her head and turned the video on again.
“What?”
“I still can’t believe he thought you’d refer to yourself in the royal ‘we.’ You aren’t nearly so vain.”
Somehow, he couldn’t pull a compliment from her assurance. “I’m not vain at all, am I?”
She pointed to the screen. “Look at them, seconds from becoming road kill and they’re smirking at the crazy girl screaming to get off the sidewalk.
“Until you screamed the B-word.”
She groaned. “I am convinced if I’d yelled the L-word instead, the police wouldn’t have arrested either of us and half of NYC’s finest wouldn’t have descended upon our block.”
L-word? “Love?”
She giggled. “No. Lottery.” She shared her idea of telling the crowd that a broken box of Lottery games lay in the road.
Trent scowled. “Why do people even play that? They’re more likely to be struck by lightning.”
“Says the billionaire,” she muttered.
Sensing a defensive attitude, he asked, “Do you play the lottery?”
Ignoring his question, she pointed to the video. “Wow! I almost got killed!”
He glanced at the TV. She had the video running in slow motion, so only the first cabinet had fallen.
“More than once.” He pressed his lips to her temple.
Carrie glanced up and smiled at him.
How would he have survived if she’d died today? His life, at least the good parts, would’ve gone with her. He couldn’t imagine a world without Carrie. Even the possibility caused his heart to thump in panic. “Can we fast-forward through this part? Seeing how close you came to dying twice in a row makes me angry.”
To his amazement, she fast-forwarded beyond the point he’d called her an idiot.
“This okay?” She’d stopped at the anchorperson declaring Trent a terrorist.
“Thank you.” He intended to kiss her head again, but felt someone staring at him. Turning to look behind them, he found Mars, lurking like some somber ghoul. “Could you make us some popcorn?”
“Would you not prefer breakfast?” Mars asked.
Trent glanced at his watch. “It’s eleven. No one eats breakfast at eleven.”
“Perhaps an early lunch, then?”
Why wouldn’t anyone do as he asked. “If I wanted lunch, I would have asked for lunch.”
“Very good, sir. And what would you like, Miss Carrie?”
She turned around and smiled at his butler. “Thank you for the bath. We enjoyed it.”
“You are most welcomed.”
Trent frowned. He never thanked his servants for doing their job. Seemed redundant. Didn’t their paycheck thank them enough?
“What would you like on your popcorn?” Mars asked.
“Butter, lots of it,” Trent said.
“Do you have Smart Butter?” Carrie asked.
Trent didn’t trust something called ‘smart butter’ any more than he did ‘smart bombs.’ The latter always blew up elementary schools beside ammunition factories. His scowl evidently caught her attention.
“Smart Butter taste like butter, but has no trans-fats and raises your good cholesterol,” she said.
“I have good cholesterol?” he asked.
“Probably not, given the stuff you eat, but I do.” She smiled with pride at her declaration.
He glanced back at Mars. “Looks like we want Smart Butter. Send someone out to hunt it down.”
“Not necessary, sir. The cook already purchases it.”
He frowned. “Have I eaten this Smart Butter?”
“If you have to ask, does it matter?” Mars challenged.
Trent intended to reply it did, but Carrie interceded. “Thank the cook for wanting Trent to be healthy and live a long life.”
“I seriously doubt that was her motivation,” Trent muttered.
Mars huffed. “Doesn’t matter, since you fired her. Your current cook is male. Do you wish anything else on the popcorn?”
“Could you sprinkle curry on my half of the bowl?” Carrie asked.
Trent’s mouth fell open at her outrageous request. “Your half? You’ll eat five bites and then I’ll be stuck eating popcorn with curry crap on it.”
She sighed. “Never mind about the curry.”
Now he felt like a jerk. “Put the curry on a fourth of the popcorn, and if it’s good, I’ll let you sprinkle it on the whole thing.”
“Thank you, sir. I had planned to simply bring you two separate bowls, but this makes it so much easier.” Mars turned and left the room.
Trent waited until the door closed before he spoke. “Did that sound like sarcasm to you? I’m never sure.”
Carrie returned to the video as police swarmed forward and cuffed Trent, slamming him face down on the car. She yelped and turned to him, touching his cheek as she studied his face. “Did they break your nose again?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. It hurts like hell.”
Her intense focus remained on his nose.
“Can we watch the video?” On the flat screen a four-foot-six tiger attacked the cop who shoved him against the car. The guy didn’t even seem to notice Carrie pounding him with her tiny fists. Another cop pulled her off, cuffed her, and led her away. He smiled at his fierce protector. She’d come to his rescue. No one ha
d ever done that before. He wanted to kiss her, but when he leaned forward, her hands pressed against his chest.
“We need to get you to a doctor!”
He collected her hands and kissed them instead. “I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not. There’s a slight bend to your nose. If it sets this way, you’ll have a crooked nose for the rest of—”
Trent grabbed the phone and dialed his doctor.
When Lenard answered, Trent didn’t bother identifying himself. “Your specialist set my nose wrong. It’s crooked.”
“I’ll call him and see if he has time to see you today.”
Trent hung up and hurried to a mirror. “Oh God! My nose is leaning to the right. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Her hands fluttered about like frantic birds. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit off my game. I didn’t notice until now.”
He returned to her. “It’s not your fault. I’m blaming…Mars!” he bellowed.
Mars didn’t appear.
“Mars!”
Finally, the man arrived with a cloth-lined wicker basket full of popcorn, one corner bearing a reddish hue.
“Why didn’t you tell me my straight nose had a bend?”
“I apologize, sir, I failed to notice.” He placed the wicker basket on the coffee table. “Would you care for a beverage with your popcorn?”
“Whiskey, tall glass. Fill it to the top.”
Carrie shook her head. “Give us hot cocoas instead.”
Trent threw himself down beside her and glared as anger caused his temples to throb. “You are undermining my authority again. Want to explain your reason?”
She smiled at him, and his anger melted away. “I hoped the popcorn would calm you before we take a taxi to the hospital and have the doctor fix your nose. They’ll want to give you pain medicine, so you shouldn’t have alcohol now.”
“Excellent reason. Thank you for ordering us cocoa.” He pressed his forehead to hers, resisting the desire to kiss her. “I really don’t want to go out today.”
“I know. I’m not looking forward to getting out of these sweats, either. But we’ll both regret it if your nose sets at an angle.”
He knew he’d regret it. In fact, he’d have to undergo a nose job to fix it. But why would Carrie regret it? “Do you only like me for my good looks?”
She chuckled and cupped both his cheeks. “Even with a slightly crooked nose, you remain very handsome.”
“Then why would you regret it?”
“Because it would forever remind me of how I failed you. If I hadn’t wandered into the mine field to collect customers’ papers, you wouldn’t have had to save my life, and then the cops wouldn’t have slammed you face down onto the car.”
He sighed. None of his other employees took responsibility for anything they did wrong. Carrie, on the other hand, searched under rugs for blame she could take upon herself. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Yesterday was not your fault. And if we ever get through this video, I’m hoping somewhere along the way it’s going to tell me Miss Schnell will spend the rest of her life in jail as a terrorist.”
Carrie scrunched her face, making it even harder for him not to junk his business and make love to her right this instant. “Miss Schnell is not a terrorist.”
“Maybe not in the traditional sense, but she did rain terror on the city, almost killed you twice and, if not for you, she would’ve killed several innocent bystanders.”
Mars returned with a tall glass of whiskey and two hot cocoas.
Trent waved off the whiskey. “I may be on painkillers later if the nose guy can fit me into his schedule today.”
“If?” Mars stated in shock. “Allow me to call and ensure he will.”
Trent wouldn’t have considered asking Mars to call his doctor in a million years but the man never failed at his tasks. “By all means. Have a go.”
After the butler left, Carrie pounced upon the red section with gusto.
Curious, Trent snared one before the curry flavored top layer disappeared.
Turned out the hot spicy curry blended well with popcorn.
Mars returned a few minutes later. “You have a twelve o’clock appointment, sir.”
Trent handed him the basket of popcorn. “Put curry on the whole thing.” His butler took the popcorn and turned to leave.
“Mars, thank you for getting me an appointment.”
His butler stopped and stared at him as he if he’d grown a second head. “You are most welcome, sir.” Mars turned and left with a spry step.
Carrie kissed Trent’s cheek.
Her action surprised him. She’d never kissed him before. God, she was so ripe for seduction, but the world’s worst employees stood in the way. He needed to dump his deadbeat employees ASAP. “Tomorrow we get to work on replacing the employees. If Marshal hasn’t found us an HR person, we’ll go somewhere else.”
She turned the video back on.
Trent didn’t realize he’d somehow screwed up until Mars brought the popcorn back with its curry topping and Carrie declared herself full.
What had he done wrong? He’d complimented Mars for making the call, she’d kissed his cheek, and they’d resumed watching the video.
The video. Something on it must have upset her.
“Can you rerun the last five minutes?” he asked.
“Why? Nothing happened. They’re just waiting for the bomb squad to arrive,” she muttered.
If not something on the video, what could it be?
What had occurred between her kissing him and returning to the video?
Nothing.
Did she expect a thank you too?
He kissed the side of her head. “Thank you for running the video for me.”
She breathed in deeply before replying, “My pleasure.”
He lifted a curry-topped piece of popcorn and pressed it to her lips. After a brief pause, her lips swallowed the tips of his fingers and she took the bait. She smiled and leaned against his shoulder.
He put his arm around her and pulled her tight to his chest, relieved a simple ‘thank you’ had solved his problem. He relaxed and watch the video. Not much going on, other than papers fluttering about. Before he could complain, Carrie fast-forwarded to when the bomb squad arrived.
First, bomb-sniffing dogs entered the debris field to assess the cabinet pile. The female beagle barked excitedly at the center cabinet. The male bloodhound preferred a coffee latté someone had dropped when running to safety.
Having received a positive for a bomb, the handlers recalled the dogs and sent in what looked like a child’s toy-tank with a long antenna, video camera, and two pincher hands. It slowly maneuvered to the center cabinet’s top drawer where the beagle had scented a bomb.
The robot attempted to open the drawer, but its tedious progress made Trent antsy. Evidently sensing his aggravation, Carrie hit fast forward.
Now the bot moved at a reasonable speed.
“Any chance we can get remote controls for our employees?”
She chuckled, which told him she’d forgiven him for whatever he’d done.
Even at double speed, the robot proved remarkably inept. “God, this thing could be one of our employees.”
She notched up the speed again and, while jerky, the robot now at least worked at a decent pace and soon managed to open the door and extract the bottle of cologne. It placed the bottle into a container then a second robot arrived to analyze the liquid inside.
To liven up the video, Carrie added words for the little bots.
“What is it?
“Shut up and let me do my job.”
“I’m rusting here. Think you can do your job any faster.”
“You’re rusting? What about me? I could’ve had a total rebuild in the time it took you to open the drawer and remove the bottle.”
Carrie squeaked as the small robot disappeared in a cloud of concrete dust. Then the tank robot shuddered as if grieving the loss of its fre
nemy and keeled over.
Carrie stopped the video and replayed the section at normal speed. The testbot’s demise resulted from the last of the cabinets crashing upon it and the cologne it analyzed.
“How much did the cologne cost?”
He chuckled. “I’m guessing less than the robots.”
She leaned into him and tugged on his shirt. “How much?”
He tilted his head, giving the matter thought. “Robots, probably half a million. Cologne, two thousand.”
Carrie laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, the loss of the cologne seems insignificant.” She sniffed him. “I hope you have more.”
“Plenty. To reduce the cost of having a personalized scent developed, I bought enough to last a lifetime. My father declared it a waste of money and assured me I’d be sick of the scent before a year passed.”
She sniffed him again. “If you do ever get tired of it, can I have the leftover bottles?”
“Why?” She’d better not want to give it to some other guy.
She grinned and shrugged. “So I can put it on my teddy bear.”
While a good not-another-guy answer, he still frowned. “You have a teddy bear?”
She nodded as if all grown woman possessed children’s toys. “I can’t sleep without it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You fell asleep just fine last night.”
She blushed and turned her focus back to death of the robots.
Evidently, the bomb squad didn’t take kindly to the murder of their minions. The camera pulled back to show a SWAT team fighting with the front glass door to get in.
“I’ll call the company again about the sliding door.”
Finally, they forced their way in and disappeared.
Instead of waiting while nothing more happened, Carrie fast-forwarded.
Eventually, the SWAT team returned with Miss Schnell and her five nephews. The cops moved in and handcuffed them all.
“They used plastic strips that tighten like garbage ties on Miss Schnell,” Carrie stated with pleasure.
“How do you know that?”
“Detective Pascal told me.”
Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) Page 21
