The Wedding Trap (Second Service #1)(8)
Author: Adrienne Bell

Dear God, what had she gotten herself into? She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I made a deal with devil, didn’t I?”

“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “But next time you might want to find out a little about the person you are blackmailing before you do it.”

“What is it that you want?” It probably wasn’t a good idea, keeping her back to him, but thought of turning around to face him was too much to bear. Besides, she still didn’t think he was out to hurt her. Not physically at least.

"Nothing," he said.

Like she could believe that. “Right.”

"It’s true,” he said.

Beth lifted her eyes heavenward again. No divine intervention came flowing down. Imagine that.

"And what if I end up getting in trouble because of this plan of yours?" she asked.

"You won’t," he said. His voice was firm, certain.

"But what if I do?" She imagined a flood of cop cars pulling up in the middle of Isobel’s ceremony, sirens blaring. She’d be cuffed and stuffed in the backseat while Spencer looked on and laughed.

“It’s not going to happen.”

"How can you be sure?"

"I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you or yours, Beth. I promise."

Beth swiveled around on the bed. His expression was calm and confident. She believed him. She couldn’t figure out why, but she did.

"What are we going to do about Charlie?" she asked.

"I don’t see any reason why we can’t help each other. I’ll be Charlie all weekend. After that you can tell them anything you like. We broke up. You found me with another woman. I fell off a cliff," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I’ll have to drag you to some wedding events. You’ll have to spend time with my parents." She wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for him. There would be a price to pay for both of them.

He smiled as if that was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. "I haven’t been to a wedding in years."

There would be no getting rid of him, Beth realized. Their deal was struck. She was stuck with him all weekend. Her stomach flipped over again, and this time it wasn’t because her head was filled with visions of her mother crying as the police led her away in handcuffs. No, now she was imagining being trapped in this tiny room when Charlie finally slid out of that jacket.

Beth turned her face away before he could see her blush.

"I should change before dinner," she said, rising from the bed. She’d have to dress in the bathroom from now on.

"I’ll go get my things," he said.

Beth could feel his eyes on her as she went to the closet to pick out a dress. She heard him rise from the chair and take two steps toward her. He cupped her shoulder with his hand. It was a comforting gesture, and, heaven help her, she wanted to lean into him. But she resisted. She kept herself straight as a beam.

"Everything is going to be all right, Beth."

She wished that he would stop saying her name. Just the sound of it made her feel all warm inside. It made her lose sight of important things. Details that she would have otherwise caught.

Charlie opened the door.

Beth froze.

"Wait," she said. "In the elevator. How did you know that my room was on the second floor?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and stepped out into the hall. "Lucky guess."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Chapter 3

Beth didn’t eat a bite of her dinner. For the first time in a week, it had nothing to do with self-control. Her stomach had been churning through the whole meal.

She’d been certain that at any moment the whole ruse would fall apart. Someone would ask something about her past, about Charlie’s past, about anything at all, and Charlie would freeze. They would be caught in the lie and revealed as frauds.

But it never happened. Everyone was pleasant, and the topics stayed light. Her pretend Charlie showed off his charming side, laughing at Mr. Masterson’s jokes, complimenting her mother’s dress, even talking a little baseball with Jordan. Beth couldn’t have hoped for a better result. There wasn’t even a hint of the dangerous man she’d seen a flash of in her room. By time the salads had been removed, he had the whole table eating out of his palm.

There were two exceptions, of course—Spencer, who still regarded Charlie with a skeptical eye, and Isobel, who only had laughter in hers.

Isobel excused herself from the table as soon as the waiter came around for coffee orders. Beth took the cue and followed her.

Isobel grabbed onto her arm as they walked to the bathroom.

"So? Who is he?” Isobel asked as soon as the door swung shut.

“What do you mean? He’s Charlie.”

Isobel balled her fists on her hips and gave her a pointed glare. “You know what I mean. How the hell did you pull this off?"

"I really don’t know. The situation just kind of fell into my lap." She wasn’t about to tell Isobel what kind of man Charlie really was.

“Where did you find him? Is he an actor?"

Beth scrunched up her nose. There wasn’t any way to answer. Not a truthful one, at any rate. "Kind of."

Isobel’s eyes widened. "Is he a gigolo?”

"Oh my God, Isobel." Beth put a finger to her lips, in case they could be overheard.

"He is, isn’t he?" Isobel went on. "That’s why he’s so hot. And so good with people."

"Are gigolos known for their social skills?" Beth asked, furrowing her brow.

Isobel shrugged. "I don’t know. I’ve never known one before. But I’d imagine they’d have to be."

It made sense. And it was sure a hell of a lot easier than having to tell Isobel that she had dragged a potentially dangerous criminal to her wedding. Sure, it made her seem desperate, but what the hell?

Isobel’s eyes widened as all the pieces fell together in her mind. "And you’re sharing a room with him. Are you—?"

"Dear God, no!" At least that part was true.

"Why not? Just look at him."

Beth’s mouth hung open. "Because I’m not so hard up that I have to pay for sex."

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She probably was that hard up. But her pride wouldn’t allow it. At least the pesky emotion was good for something.

"No, you’re just hard up enough to pay someone to pretend to be your boyfriend." Isobel laughed.

Beth rolled her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "I couldn’t think of any other way out of it. You don’t think anyone suspects, do you?"

Isobel shook her head. "No. Your mother just about ate him up with a spoon. I think she’s already picking out colors for the nursery."