Garrett took her upstairs to his office. Not where they had first met, but a glass, chrome and teak creation on an upper floor, well away from the noise and bustle of the casino. Several people followed them in. Murray of course, and his assistant, but also two security guys were at a higher level than the two who’d escorted them up here. His mind working overtime, he rattled off orders, but he never forgot Bonnie. Guiding her gently to the wide, black leather sofa in the relaxation area, he made sure she had everything she needed before he sat next to her. He’d found tea for her, and a bottle of water, but he’d taken a Scotch for himself.
After knocking back the first one, he offered the bottle to Murray, who shook his head. Shrugging, Garrett poured himself another drink and took a seat next to Bonnie.
At least she’d stopped shaking so much. Pretty soon she’d need to sleep, he guessed. Shock did that to somebody not used to it.
He hit speed dial on his personal phone. Like many executives Garrett carried more than one phone but this one was special. It automatically scrambled every call he made, for instance. Nobody could listen in on this except the people in this room. “Hey,” he said to Dan. “I have a situation.”
“Fucking typical,” Dan O’Halloran, partner at the Phoenix Agency said. “So you’re not getting back to us soon, huh?”
“I got engaged about half an hour ago. Then somebody shot at her.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Part of him relaxed, the part that belonged to his army years. He could talk to these people the way he couldn’t talk to anybody else, and know they would understand where he was coming from. “She can predict about five minutes into the future.”
Dan gave a sharp crack of shocked laughter. “And she’s in Vegas?”
Oh yes, his buddy got this straight away. “That’s it, yes.”
“Are you sure it was her the shooter was aiming at?”
“No.” Because he was standing too close to Bonnie to be absolutely positive she was the target. Somebody had shot at them, either him or Bonnie. He had lost count of the people who wanted him dead, but most of them were on the other side of the world. And their grudge wasn’t personal. This sure felt like it was. “We’re getting married as soon as.”
“Fuck, you don’t waste time. Do I congratulate you?”
He snuck a sideways glance at Bonnie. “If you like.”
There were worse people he could be marrying. And that would be the best way to keep her close. Because like it or not, Bonnie Miller, soon to be Rocquelaire, was getting a personal bodyguard.
“Congratulations. Do you need anything from us?”
“I appreciate your offer, but I’ll let you know. One shot so far, from a high velocity rifle. Believe me I know the sound. Deliberate and aimed.”
“An assassin. So who in Vegas has that kind of connection.”
Garrett snorted in derision. “Are you kidding me? But if you want to help, work on it from the outside. Spread a few feelers, find out if anything unusual is happening in this burg.”
“Sure.”
“And I’ll do the same. Something else, too. Can you let Mia know?” Mia was heading up the Agency’s burgeoning psychic unit. Bonnie would need their help, even when this crisis was over. And it would be over, even if he had to kill the assassin himself.
Questions raced through his mind as he hung up. It could be Georgia, pissed that he’d told her to get lost the other night. She’d been quiet ever since, but he didn’t expect that to last for long.
But would she go that far? Sure, she’d been more hurt than he’d expected. They’d had a business deal, one his lawyers had fucked up by making impossible promises on his behalf. That was all. Celeb couples did it all the time, except Garrett wanted the publicity to go to the Rocque, not to him.
Was that worth shooting somebody for?
Another thought shot into his mind, one he needed to think about. When she was here the other night, playing the tables, maybe somebody else had noticed. “Did you play in the casinos?” he asked her abruptly.
He nodded at the two security guys, who left. Murray stayed, his back to the door. Garrett would trust Murray with his life.
“What do you mean?” Bonnie picked up her bottle of water and unscrewed the lid.
“When you came to Vegas. Did you play the tables?”
She shot him a wary look. “Yes, some. Not much. Just to see if I could do it. And I could. I made about a thousand dollars before you caught me, that’s all.”
Enough for somebody else to notice Bonnie’s gifts. She wasn’t very clever at hiding her tracks. He sighed. That made everything a bit more difficult. He glanced at Murray. “We need to get the security tape from the places she played.” Deliberately he calmed his tone, speaking to her quietly. “Do you remember where you played?”
She nodded. “Only two places.” She named two of the biggest casinos on the Strip.
Well that was something.
Turning in her seat, she grabbed his hands. “But we don’t know it was me. It could have been you.”
Bless her for her concern. Lifting her white-knuckled hand to his lips, he delivered a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “It could. But if someone had wanted me, they’d have ample choice.” One bullet. One target. And everything told him she was the one the assassin wanted.
He glanced at Murray. “We behave as normal. I marry Bonnie on Tuesday, and we behave like newlyweds. But I want either you or me with her at all times. Call in anybody you trust to help.” He turned his attention to Bonnie. “You don’t go anywhere without Murray or me. Clear?”
Wide-eyed, she nodded. “But is it really necessary?”
“Until we know more, you bet it is.”
*****
As her numbness wore off, Bonnie’s incredulity increased. Who would want to shoot her? She’d hardly made a splash in Las Vegas, at least until she’d met Garrett Rocquelaire. To her mind everything pointed at Garrett being the target. He was rich, he’d worked for Delta Force, and probably made a ton of enemies. Maybe a rival casino owner, or somebody he’d met abroad.
But she saw sense. She wouldn’t try to shake off his bodyguards. Fuck, she hadn’t even handled a gun in her life before. “Do we still have to marry?”
He sent her a darkling glare. “Oh yes. Our deal stands.”
Someone called through to his phone. The normal one, not the one he’d used to make his special call. “Send them in,” he told the person on the other end. “We’re starting the ball rolling on the wedding.”
“I’ll get on that security footage,” Murray said hastily, and exited.
Into the office stepped a lawyer, followed by a slender woman who Garrett introduced as Jane, his PA. The woman looked as if she’d stepped straight out of a box. Not a hair was out of place nor was there a crease in her navy blue skirt suit. Her appearance was exactly what Bonnie tried for every day, and failed to achieve.
They went through to a conference room, and Garrett sat her next to him, holding her hand, curling her in warmth. He anchored her. As her one constant in this changing world, she felt like clutching to him desperately, but she mustn’t do that. Not if she was going to stay sane and clear headed.
The lawyer had drawn up the contract in record time. “There aren’t any shocks in this one, are there?” he demanded.
Charles shook her head. “It’s exactly what you asked for, put in legal terms. A lot simpler than the last one, too. You’re settling a sum of money on your wife-to-be. In return, she has no further claim on your holdings, unless the pregnancy clauses are triggered, in which case paragraph 6e comes into force. The marriage must last for at least three years, or the money is forfeit. If the details of the contract are made public, the money is forfeit.”
His PA shifted in her seat restlessly. “Are you sure about this, Garrett? This will cause a lot of trouble with Georgia, and she’s done a lot for you already.”
His lips firmed. “I’m sure. Georgia got too greedy. I can’t go along with her demands and she won’t renegotiate.” He hesitated, and glanced at Bonnie. “I found somebody who suited me better.”
They exchanged a smile, and although Bonnie did her best not to get mushy thoughts, Garrett made that hard for her. That smile didn’t say business. Anything but. His expression, fleeting though it was, spoke of heated sheets and midnight lovemaking.
When they gave her the contract to sign Bonnie took her time reading it through. She asked a number of questions, which were all answered, then she increased the penalties, more to see how Garrett would react than any other reason. Blandly he agreed to everything, right down to a complete handing over of all his interests in the Rocquelaire Leisure Group and any other company he had a stake in, if Georgia’s baby proved to be his.
Shocked, she read the other clause, about what would happen if she bore Garrett’s baby. She glanced up to where he sat next to her, scanning his copy of the contract. She tapped her copy, right at that clause. She didn’t have to ask him.
“We want every eventuality catered for,” he said. “We’re not planning on it, but you never know.”
He actually wanted her. They were doing this, they were actually doing it.
When he handed her his gold fountain pen she signed where the lawyer indicated. Garrett added his signature and tucked the pen back in his pocket with a wink to her. “I only use it on special occasions. It belonged to my grandfather.”
“The one who came from France?”
“You have been doing your homework. Yes, that one. He’s in Florida now, with his latest wife.” He spoke dismissively.
Too damn right she’d been doing her homework. While there wasn’t much about him personally, his family was a colorful one. Garrett’s father was a much–married man, on his sixth wife now. Maybe that was the cause of Garrett’s cynical approach to marriage. Although Garrett spoke with an American accent and appeared perfectly at home here, traces of his French ancestry remained. He used extravagant hand gestures and had the black hair, olive skin and bright blue eyes like ones Bonnie had seen when she’d been on holidays in France. Garrett always looked effortlessly put together, too. “Do you see your family often?”
His mouth tightened into a thin line. “No. We prefer it that way.”
The way he’d clammed up gave her a wave of shock, and the sense that something was wrong crept through her. Had there been a family argument? It was none of her concern. This was a convenient arrangement, nothing more.
The lawyer took his leave, taking the masses of paperwork with her, and promising her she would get her own copy.
He was listening to his assistant, who was reading from a tablet. “I’ve arranged a press conference for eight,” Jane said, “so that gives a couple of hours to get Bonnie ready.”
Garrett flicked Bonnie a glance. “Is that enough?” He wasn’t speaking to her, but to Jane.
“A press conference?” Bonnie was getting the feeling that events were running away from her. “You’re that famous?”
“No, but Georgia is.”
Ah, yes. Georgia.
“I want to give her every opportunity to remain friends,” Garrett said. “So we’re telling everybody that we are madly in love, and letting Georgia graciously step aside.”
She glanced at Jane, unsure what to say. “What about what she said?”
“The baby?” Garrett picked up on her uncertainty as if he’d known her for years. “It’s okay, Jane knows about that.” He leaned back and stretched his head back, taking a deep breath that spoke of fatigue.
Bonnie would bet not many people saw that in him and in a strange way she felt closer to Garrett because of that.
“We’re taking the lead,” he said. “Once we can get everybody to move on, they should leave us alone. But she’s famous. World famous, and about to launch her own make up line. So we’re going to make everything easy for her.”
Bonnie saw the sense in that. Get the parade to move on, and they could get on with their lives. Whatever they happened to be.
Jane nodded. “There are people waiting upstairs. I got them to pick up what they needed from the mall.” There was an upscale shopping mall next to the Rocque, boutiques from every designer name Bonnie had heard of and some she hadn’t. She would go ahead with this nonsense, because it made sense to do so.
“How do you feel about all this fuss?”
Garrett gave a sharp laugh. “About the same as I feel about wearing these suits. Part of the job, ma’am. When I wore bulletproof vests and cargo pants that was part of the job too.”
She didn’t ask him which one he preferred, because she’d already guessed the answer.
Ten minutes later Bonnie found herself standing in the bedroom of the penthouse, surrounded by people. A hairdresser sat her before the mirror and produced his scissors, while a woman rolled a rack of clothes into the middle of the room. “We don’t have time to do a color,” the hairdresser said, “but I can do something about that frizz.”
“It’s Las Vegas. The humidity here is terrifying.”
The stylist let Bonnie’s hair out to play. Since the wedding Bonnie had just pulled it all back into a clasp, but as she watched, the hairdresser worked wonders. Bonnie’s pathetic attempts at straightening her dark locks was transformed into a riot of tousled curls. He’d even managed to make the best of the different shades in her hair, letting the lighter strands curl on the surface. And he added a gloss she could never manage on her own.
She might as well get something out of this. “Can you leave all that stuff behind?” She’d watched what the stylist had done carefully, pretty sure she could do a decent job of replicating the effect.
While he was working, a makeup artist added a touch of color. The heavy makeup she’d worn before was wiped away and replaced by a more skillful application.
Another stylist tucked her into an white silk top that while form fitting, didn’t restrict Bonnie’s breathing. It was of the softest, finest knitted silk, with a touch of, a miracle of a garment, together with the strapless bra she wore beneath. Unlike the one she’d had before, this one worked. To the top the woman added a slim pencil skirt and jacket in dark gold. And stupid shoes in the same dark gold color.
After she stepped into the shoes, Bonnie made a joke about her nose bleeding that had the stylist handing her a tissue. The hairstylist got her joke and laughed. “Seriously,” Bonnie said, “I can’t walk in these. Do you have something a bit––lower?”
“Try them,” the man suggested.
At first Bonnie felt as if she was being pushed forward, trying to keep her balance on a tightrope. It wasn’t that she didn’t have heels, but she’d never used a pair higher than three inches before.
As she thought she was getting the hang of them, a tap sounded on the door, and it opened. Shocked by the sudden interruption, Bonnie lost it and pitched right into Garrett’s arms.
They tightened around her, then he gently straightened her. His face was a lot closer than usual, but he was still a lot taller than her. “Very nice,” he purred. “But maybe you’d better keep those shoes for practice, unless you want me to carry you into the press conference.”
He held her while she stepped out of the beautiful but impossible heels. The stylist brought her another, less elevated pair, dark brown leather this time. With thanks she stepped into them. “They’re gorgeous.”
“And you can walk,” Garrett said.
“Yes I can.” She tried a few steps to make sure.
Garrett nodded to the stylists. “Good job, thanks.” He turned back to Bonnie. “Are you ready?”
The stylists took the hint and filed out, leaving the paraphernalia behind. Bonnie wished she’d had more time to look through the clothes rack, but the outfit was lovely. She just didn’t feel like herself, that was all. The new, improved Bonnie looked like a stranger in the mirror. Her cleverly made up face had been contoured and defined so much that it didn’t seem to be her any more.
Garrett didn’t appear affected by her makeover. Had he even noticed? More than ever she felt like an adjunct, a tool employed to solve a particular problem. The Garrett who had show her so much passion had gone. Perhaps he’d never existed, not really.
He opened the door. “Here we go, then.”
When they were alone in the lift, he commented, “Don’t forget, we’re taking on a high-profile media star. We have to counter what Georgia will say. She won’t be long responding. She’s probably waiting for my move before she makes hers.”
“You make it sound like a game of chess.”
He nodded. “That’s what it is. If I were Georgia, I’d be finding a new squeeze around now. Don’t say anything. Look gorgeous and let me do the talking.”
The doors opened, and he ushered her out, a hand at the small of her back. He hadn’t put his jacket back on, but had it slung over his shoulder, with his forefinger hooked casually through the loop.
A sign on the wall proclaimed “Rocque and Roll Convention Center” in large, brushed steel letters. Sounds of animated conversation came from a large room. Chairs were set in rows, in front of a long table bristling with mics.
As they entered Garrett slid his arm around Bonnie’s waist, so they walked in together, all set for their act. The rattle of cameras, with bright flashes and shouts of “Bonnie. Over here! Smile, darling! Stay like that!” numbed her. Garrett ignored them and guided her forward. She was glad of his protection.
So that was why they called the media a mob.
Garrett made sure Bonnie was seated before he took the chair next to her. Jane was already there, and the lawyers were sitting at the front of the audience.
The chatter died. Bonnie saw her friends, sitting in one corner of the room, with the groom’s friends. They appeared as shell-shocked as she felt but when they saw her they nudged each other. Bonnie didn’t dare answer their little waves, but she appreciated seeing a link with her home. They’d have no idea what was going on, but she’d signed the confidentiality agreement, and she could tell them next to nothing.
Garrett made a simple statement. “Georgia G has generously stepped aside from our engagement, for which I thank her. I met and fell deeply in love with this lady.” He grasped Bonnie’s hand, and held it on the table. Cameras clicked. “Love isn’t something you can fight. I saw Bonnie, and I was hers. That’s all. I’ll answer questions.”
The cacophony of voices reached a crescendo until Garrett pointed to a man sitting on the front row.
“When did you meet Bonnie Miller?”
Hearing her name from a complete stranger shocked Bonnie into awareness. This was about her. She’d never be the same again.
“Last Thursday,” he said. “I caught her card counting.”
There was a collective gasp, and Bonnie groaned. “You didn’t have to tell them that!” she said, before she could stop herself. Unfortunately, her exclamation echoed around the room.
Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the knuckles. “Bonnie didn’t know she was doing anything wrong. She enchanted me, but I only meant to give her a warning. I ended up taking her for dinner. By the end of the evening, I was hopelessly in love.”
Bonnie swallowed. The way he told it, it sounded real. Nervously, she lifted her hand to fiddle with her hair, but stopped herself in time.
“And how did you feel, Bonnie?” a woman in vibrant pink asked her.
He hadn’t told her what to do if someone asked her a direct question. Instead of waiting for Garrett to take over, she answered. “I feel wonderful. I never imagined this would ever happen.” That made her sound feather-headed, so she added a bit more. “I came here for a––for a holiday, a vacation, but it’s going to be a long one.”
At least she’d made them laugh. She wanted to talk to her mother, but if she did it now, people would know she had a mother and to search for her. It was hard work, this celebrity stuff. Not that she’d be one for long.
“Do you know Georgia G?” someone else asked her.
Bonnie shook her head. “I’ve met her once. I think she’s great.” Even though she’d barely heard of her before. But if Georgia retired gracefully, Bonnie would think she was great, so that wasn’t a lie.
Garrett took over. “We both have the greatest respect for Georgia.”
“Are you sending her an invitation to the wedding?”
He moved closer to her. “We’re not sending invitations to anybody except Bonnie’s dearest friends, because she doesn’t want to marry without them.”
Bonnie would hardly call her old school buddies her dearest friends. To be honest, she didn’t really have any dearest friends, unless they counted her mother. And the last thing she wanted was to have her mother in this shenanigans. Considering her mother’s recent poor health, Bonnie didn’t want her anywhere near this.
She’d talked to her on Skype last night and explained the situation. Her mother had sighed, and made Bonnie promise she wasn’t doing it just for her. Which, come to think of it, she wasn’t. This whole stupid roller-coaster ride was something else. It took her mind off her troubles, the fact that she didn’t have a job to go home to, and that she’d have to support her mother through another difficult medical procedure. With any luck, this would be the last one.
“How about your family, Garrett?” the woman in pink asked.
“They’re invited, of course,” he said smoothly. Was it only Bonnie who detected a hint of strain in his voice? “But with an enterprise as big as Rocque Leisure to look after, I don’t know if they’ll make it.”
“When’s the wedding to be? Are you getting Elvis to do it?”
He gave a mock wince. “I doubt it. We’re going for something quiet and private.”
So he wasn’t telling them how fast the wedding was taking place.
“But didn’t you sign a prenup with Georgia?” That was a man sitting to one side. He wasn’t carrying a camera or a notebook, only a phone.
Garrett didn’t answer, but pointed at someone else.
“Won’t Georgia G be sore? After all, she’s been harping on for months about her catch. Her contract for the make-up, is that still okay?”
“Sure,” Garrett said, with his trademark smile. He was on easier ground now. “The Rocque is honored to have Georgia G’s products in-house.”
“How do you feel about that, Bonnie?”
“I’ve never met Georgia, but I wish her all the best,” she said softly. The angry encounter on the stage at the gala when Georgia blanked her didn’t count.
“Because you got the prize!” someone shouted from the back, and the room erupted into guffaws. How did Georgia bear all this? Having every move watched and tracked, the media commenting on her every move?
This was fucking awful. But after this, the circus would move on to its next stop on the tour. Georgia. And that would be the big one.
The cacophony died when Garrett produced a small, blue velvet box. Undoubtedly a ring box. Shocked, her gaze flew to his face as he opened it. His smile was steady as he took out the glittering contents. “Give me your hand.”
Numbly, she did, and he slid the ring on to her third finger. It could have been from a Christmas cracker ring for all she knew, because she kept her eyes on his face. He was smiling warmly, as if he really meant it.
What would it feel like to have a powerful, handsome man like this at her feet? Truly devoted to her? Not that Garrett would ever let it happen to him, she scoffed inwardly. And if he did, he wouldn’t pick somebody as ordinary as her.
But today she’d let herself dream.
Laughter subsided, and applause took its place, together with the inevitable clatter and whirr of cameras, and the accompanying flashes.
“That,” Murray murmured, his voice barely reaching her, “is genius.”