Chapter 4

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Trenton pressed the car fob and pulled at the latch, but didn’t immediately get in. He stood on the sidewalk, his head bowed and his mind whirring with the consequences of his rash decision to declare himself engaged. 

Breana seemed like a nice girl, but in the workplace, she had a distinct disadvantage. Cady was her boss and also had the ear of her father who owned the entire company. Would she really be okay?

He regretted ‘dragging her into his mess’ as she’d so aptly put it. At the time, he’d been thinking only of his discomfort with the trajectory of Mr. Barrington’s discussion. He’d taken the coward’s way out and now someone else would have to pay for it.

Trenton lifted his head and gazed at the sprawling six story building that held an array of offices. The hot Belizean sun baked the top of his head and sweat beaded around his collar, but he didn’t move.

Would Breana be alright? Should he just cart her out of there and set up a temporary position at his company until he could free up a job that would suit her? After all, it was his fault that she was in this mess in the first place.

Before he could decide, his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Sir,” Jamison, his secretary and right hand man, spoke in the crisp, abrupt tone he’d become accustomed to, “where are you? The meeting is about to begin.”

Trenton checked his watch and winced. “I’m at Barrington and Co. now. I’ll get there in about ten minutes.”

“I’ll inform the contractors.”

“Thank you, Jamison.”

The dial tone met his ear. Trenton chuckled and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He opened the door and slipped into his vehicle, consoling himself with the thought that Breana had accepted his business card. If she needed him, she would call.

As Trenton backed out of the lot and merged onto the highway, he wondered what had pushed the young woman over the edge to jump on the fake-fiancé train. She’d been so dead set against it, that the sudden one-eighty left him with whiplash.

Had Cady’s story about her mother struck a nerve?

His curiosity piqued, Trenton mulled the mystery over until he spotted the large grey building rising against the blue skyline. Parking his car in the reserved space, he hopped out and charged up the stairs to the elevator.

Lorde Industries was built by his grandfather in the late 1950’s. At the time, all his Pops had to his name was a hammer, a pregnant wife, and a dream. He set out to found a construction business that grew to employ hundreds of Belizeans and was responsible for the building of roundabouts, bridges, and hotels all over the country.

For as long as he could remember, Trenton had balked at the idea of taking the reins of the company. It was too constricting, too life-draining. He had no desire to tie his life up with an all-consuming responsibility.

Things changed last summer when his mother was diagnosed with cancer and his father handed Lorde Industries over to him in order to oversee her treatment in the States.

Now, he saw every project, every building, every meeting and every business decision as his small attempt at keeping his father by his mother’s side and so keeping his mother as healthy and happy as she could be.

Jamison was waiting for him at the door of the conference room. The tall, broad-shouldered man looked more like an NFL linebacker than an executive assistant, but even if he was a bit more vocal than a normal secretary, the only thing that surpassed Jamison’s skills was his loyalty to the Lorde family.

“How’s the atmosphere?” Trenton asked, stopping to straighten his tie in the mirror.

“They’re chomping at the bit to throw the Camal Company’s bid in your face.”

“Unbelievable. They almost broke my hand off when we shook on the bid price at our last meeting.”

“It seems George Camal might have planted a bug in their ear just to compete with you. It may be difficult to convince them to remain with the original price.”

Trenton rubbed his forehead, already foreseeing a very long and complicated meeting. Placing his hand on Jamison’s shoulders, he begged. “Coffee. Please.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison walked confidently toward the kitchen while Trenton turned the knob and entered the room.

Two hours and a raging headache later, Trenton returned to his office and flopped into his chair. Outside his window, the sun was dipping behind the clouds and coated the sky in pink and purple blushes.

Jamison entered and set a bottle of headache reliever and a glass of water before him. Trenton looked up at his assistant with grateful eyes and tossed back two of the pills. Growing up, Trenton didn’t have much opportunity to respect his father, but he couldn’t deny how taxing running a business could be.

“Why does money turn normal, level-headed people into such machines?” Trenton wondered aloud.

“You managed to come to a compromise,” Jamison said, a hint of approval in his voice. “It would not have worked out otherwise.”

“It’s not like I accepted their original bid to trap them. If the budget goes even a cent over the line now, we’ll have to pull the funds from elsewhere.”

His phone rang at that moment and Trenton checked the caller ID. It was his father. Jamison spotted his expression and ducked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

“How’s Mom?” Trenton asked as soon as he pressed the ANSWER button.

“What? You don’t even care about your old man?”

“If you don’t have anything to report on Mom, then I have things to do.”

“I’m still your father, boy.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Dad. Give Mom my love. I’ll try to call her later.” He hung up and sighed, leaning his head back against the seat.

His phone rang again, the shrilling sound emphasizing the pain in his head. Trenton violently pulled the cell to his ear and yelled. “I told you. I’m busy!”

“I’m sorry,” he heard a feminine voice squeak. “I’m just… kind of in a situation right now.”

“Situation?” Trenton pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the unfamiliar number. “Who is this?”

“It’s Breana, your, uh, fiancé.”

He straightened. “What is it?”

“It may be better if you come here.”

Worried, Trenton grabbed his car keys and tore it for the elevators.

“Sir!” Jamison cried. “Are you leaving already?”

“Let’s head home early, Jamison.”

“But it’s only six o’clock. We’ve got so much to do—”

“I’ll catch up tomorrow. Have a good night.” The doors closed and Trenton focused on breathing through his mouth as he waited for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

Breana’s voice hadn’t sounded too good. His mind picked through the worst possibilities like a dump diver scouring a hill of garbage. Had Breana cracked under the pressure and confessed to their fake engagement? Had Mr. Barrington thrown her out of her job? Had Cady mauled her?

Each scenario circulated in the realm of possibilities and by the time Trenton threw his car into Barrington and Co’s parking lot and flew into the main lobby, he was sweating so hard stains appeared on the chest of his work shirt.

Ignoring his disheveled appearance, Trenton sped up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and burst through the doors to Cady’s office. His eyes scanned the abandoned front desk and the quiet hallway.

“Hello?” he called, swiping the screen of his phone to call Breana. “Is anyone here?”

“Whhhyyy?” A voice rang out, raking against his eardrums like claws on a chalkboard. He bent his head and quickly covered his ears with the palm of his hands, peering past the empty hallways to the back of the offices.

“It’s okay, Cady. Don’t cry.”

“I told you! Call me ‘Boss!” Cady snapped.

Trenton winced and walked hesitantly toward the voices. He stopped in front of the female bathrooms and pressed his ear against the door.

“I’m sorry. Boss, you need to calm down. Okay? I called Trenton. He’s on his way.”

“Yes,” he heard the desperation in Cady’s voice, “bring him here and let him tell me it’s over.”

“Just wait. He should be here any minute.”

Taking that as his cue, Trenton knocked on the door. Silence filtered through the other side before the door was flung open. Cady stood in the doorway, her light brown eyes bulging and puffy. Mascara and tear stains coated her cheeks and her lips quivered at the sight of him.

“Trenton!” she yelled and threw her arms around his chest. “Please, tell me this is some twisted joke!”

Trenton looked over Cady’s head to the woman who stood in the middle of the bathroom. Breana offered him a wan smile and a slight shrug. ‘This is on you’ he read in the slope of her lips and the tilt of her eyebrows.

For a split second, Trenton hesitated. If he insisted that he was engaged, he and Breana would have to do a lot more to convince everyone it was true. Such a plan was ripe with complications, but it held far more appeal than caving to Cady’s wishes.

Gently pushing the sobbing woman so that she no longer leaned against him, he frowned. “I’m sorry, but—” he walked over to Breana and put his arm around her shoulders, “this is my woman now. I won’t change my mind.”

Cady responded with a long, drawn-out wail.