The limo made slow progress down the strip, in stop-and-go traffic, while Carina’s high-pitched chatter continued, grating on his nerves. Some movie star had married some rock singer, and now they were getting a divorce. Blah, blah, blah.
Fortunately, his fiancée had never been a night owl. He fully expected she’d be asleep by midnight at the latest. Between the lulling vibration of the limousine and sheer boredom at Carina’s monologue, Bran had to fight against sleep, even on the short drive back to the hotel.
“Hey, Bran. Can you hear me?”
At last, Stephanie’s microphone was back on. He smiled and pointed upward with his left thumb in a motion he hoped was discreet enough to escape notice by the others. Steph was sitting somewhere on the opposite side.
“You seem to be fine without my help,” her soft voice continued. “Do you want the microphone off or on when we go into the casino tonight?”
He frowned and gave a thumbs down.
“You want it off?”
He shook his head and mouthed the word on.
“You want it on?”
He reversed his thumb, lifting it up in the air to be certain she understood.
“What are you doing, Bran?” Carina’s elbow jabbed in his ribs. “You’re not even paying attention, are you?”
“Yes, yes. I’m listening.” He quickly folded his hands in his lap.
“Then what was I talking about?” she challenged.
Bran thought hard, in an effort to recall a single word she’d spoken.
“Cancer,” he declared, triumphantly. “You were talking about tumors.”
“Not tumors. Turmeric. It’s supposed to be really good for you.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “It’s anti-inflammatory. Good for your heart. I have it every morning in my eggs.”
“You never listen to me!” Her voice went shrill and all the other conversations inside the limo paused in the wake of her outburst. “That’s exactly what I said, and you ignored me. I have a master’s degree in finance, but you treat me like a child.”
“I know you’re smart, Carina—”
“You always talk down to me,” she snapped. “And you keep secrets. You’d rather talk to your hick secretary about your business than ask my opinion. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I thought it would make you feel like my fiancée instead of my personal assistant.” Bran’s jaws clenched with such strength he could barely force the words between his lips. He knew everyone in the limo was listening, but he was beyond caring. After the all-day effort he’d made to give Carina his undivided attention, this is how she repaid him? She was a leech. She demanded so much she sucked all the energy out of him. How had he ever thought their relationship would be a mutually-beneficial business deal?
The limo stopped and the door opened. “Welcome to the Grand Laurencia, where good times are had by all.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bran said, under his breath.
“When will we eat dinner?” Stephanie asked no one in particular, as the group, minus Bran and Carina, rode the elevator back downstairs. She’d had enough time to freshen up and change into a backless cocktail dress. She was prepared to return to her room and change clothes if she had to, though Finn assured her she wouldn’t be overdressed for the event. As if to make a point, the three men were wearing tuxedos, though Cole wore his with cowboy boots. In a moment of jealousy, she wished she had on comfortable boots instead of teetering on five-inch heels, no matter how beautiful her designer sandals were.
“I don’t know what the schedule is,” Cole replied. “Carina kind of threw a wrench in our plans with her conniption fit. If you ask me, Bran should’ve let her stay in her room and pout.”
“Will Branson miss the tournament?” Steph asked.
“No chance,” said Finn. “It lasts until one a.m. and the casino throws a party for us, after that. He’ll merely miss the opening bell, thanks to Carina.”
“A party?” Steph’s already frayed nerves started sparking. She felt like a fraud. She’d never make it through a party with all these ultra-rich people. “I might go to bed by then and let you guys take care of Branson.”
“No way,” Cole piped in. “The ratio of single men to single women is way too high to lose a potential dance partner.”
“Maybe Branson will share Carina with you.” Steph smirked.
“I’d pass on that offer even if Oscar liked dancing,” Jarrett scoffed.
“Oscar?” Steph asked.
“My leg. That’s his name. I also have Flash Gordon, but that’s my sports leg. I call him Gordie.”
“Einstein loves to dance.” Cole lifted his bright green prosthetic arm. “Have to watch him. He sometimes slides down a little too low from the waist. Says it’s because he has no nerve sensation, but I think he’s trying to cop a feel.”
Stephanie suppressed a snort, when Finn jumped in the discussion. “I’ll dance with Stephanie. Cole can have Carina.”
“I don’t want her,” Cole said, in a gruff tone. “I don’t know why Bran wants to marry her, anyway. She’s too controlling, if you ask me.”
Finn started forward as the elevator doors opened, but Cole grabbed his arm and hauled him backwards. “Ladies first.”
Finn offered an elbow instead, and Steph accepted, hoping to steady her rickety feet on their precariously high perches.
“Bran’s got his reasons.” Finn guided her out, turning left, toward the casino.
