Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5) Read online

He scanned the hours printed on the paper, adding them up in his head. “You’re scheduled for twenty hours next week. Do you always work that much?” When Marty told him she worked part time at the bakery, he’d assumed that meant eight or nine hours not twenty.

  Addie paused, her own glass almost to her mouth. “More or less.”

  No wonder she’d been tired last night. She must work close to seventy hours a week. “Do you need to work that much?” he asked, confident he knew the answer. Assuming she made at least minimum wage, twenty hours a week at the bakery would bring in a little more than six hundred dollars a month

  She nodded. “Most of what Designs by Addison makes goes back into the business and until recently business had been on the slow side. The money from the bakery helps with my personal expenses.” Her tone remained neutral not giving him any hint of how she felt about her situation. “If things stay the way they have been, though, I should be able to cut back at the bakery soon.”

  Concern for her well being filled him. A person, no matter their age or health, could only sustain a sixty-plus-hour workweek for so long before it started affecting them. “How can I help?”

  “Help? You already have. Ever since you hired me to redecorate your office and work on your house, my business has exploded. I don’t need you to do anything.”

  He recognized the look of determination on her face, but it didn’t stop him. “I realize you don’t need it.” He picked his words carefully as he went on. “Trust me, I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to help you.” Trent took her hand. “The less time you work, the more time you can spend with me. So you see by helping you, I’m really helping myself.”

  Addie rolled her eyes. “So the truth comes out,” she said with a little laugh. “Really, Trent, I’m fine. Besides, other than dragging clients into my office by their hair, which would be really bad if you plan to run for Senate, there isn’t anything you can do.”

  “Yeah, that would be bad.” Even as he agreed, he searched his brain for ways to help her. Even without asking he knew she would never accept his money, and he couldn’t exactly buy stock shares in her company.

  “Honestly, Trent. I’m fine and I promise to make plenty of time for you. Don’t worry about it.”

  The smile on her lips called to him. Later when he was alone he’d think of something. Right now, though, he planned to just enjoy their afternoon together. “I’m going to hold you to that.” He moved closer and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “So how do you want to spend the day?” According to her work schedule she only had today off. The following day she was scheduled from eight until two. “I’ll go anywhere you want.”

  Addie didn’t hesitate. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to visit the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. They have a visiting exhibit of paintings by Caravaggio,” she said, referring to the Italian artist who had painted during the late 1500s. “The paintings are only there for a few more weeks.”

  He’d already guessed she enjoyed art given the framed replicas she had on her walls. In all honesty, a day at the art museum didn’t sound as much fun as a day out on his cousin’s sailboat, which Jake kept moored in Newport, but if that was how she wanted to spend the day, he’d go along.

  “If you don’t want to drive into Boston today, that’s okay. We can do something else.”

  “I don’t mind. Traffic should be light today and the MFA has some great collections.” His reply earned him a smile, which was reward enough for a day spent in a museum. Ten minutes later, they headed out. Addie could spend the day studying old paintings while he studied her.

  Chapter 11

  Monday afternoon Addie fought back yet another yawn, then reached for the energy drink she’d grabbed on her way into work. The weekend had been as wonderful as the one before, but it had drained her. Between her late night with Trent on Friday and Saturday, she got nothing else done before her afternoon shift on Sunday. In order to catch up, she’d worked late Sunday night on paperwork so that today she could focus on the decorating plans for a new client and put some more work into her design plans for Trent’s house in Newport. Both goals she wanted accomplished before she left for the night. Tomorrow she had an appointment with a potential client out on Cape Cod and doubted she’d make it into the office at all. For that reason she’d asked Tara to work the next day so that the office would remain open.

  Finishing the drink in a few sips, she focused once again on her computer screen. The window treatments she’d found from one of her favorite manufacturers matched the sofa the clients insisted upon. Unfortunately, they clashed with the wall paint she planned to propose. Unless she wanted to change the paint color, she needed to find something else. So far the only other window treatments she’d found that worked were floor-length curtains, which the clients had specifically stated they didn’t want. With a sigh, Addie called up another manufacturer website she liked.

  The office door opened and Tara stepped in as she scrolled through the various selections. “Addie, Marcy Blake is here to see you.” Tara crossed to her desk and dropped a business card in front of her. “She’s from Today Magazine.”

  She’d never heard of the woman, but she’d both heard of and read Today Magazine. At one time she’d even had a subscription to the popular monthly magazine, which ran articles on everything from celebrities to important news stories. Just last month it had featured the story of how a family survived for three months on an uninhabited island after their boat went astray in the Pacific Ocean.

  “Thanks, Tara. Send her in.” As Tara left, Addie scanned her desk, moving anything with a client name or address into a drawer.

  A moment later the door opened again and a stylish dark-haired woman entered. “Thank you for seeing me, Addison. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

  Was there ever a good time to talk to reporters? “No, it’s fine. Please have a seat.” Addie folded her hands before her as Marcy placed her leather bag on the floor and sat.

  Marcy gave her a wide smile as she focused all her attention on her. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

  Addie nodded. Trent warned her that the other magazine article about them wouldn’t be the last. Even still, the reporter’s visit today surprised her.

  “Trent Sherbrooke has well established his reputation as a playboy going from one model or socialite to another. He even dated a Danish princess for a few months.” The reporter told her things she already knew but had tried not to think about. “And then all of a sudden you, a small business owner, show up on his arm. People are intrigued. They want to know all the details.”

  She wanted to squirm under the reporter’s gaze, which made her feel like a bug under a microscope. Clearing her throat instead, Addie said, “There’s not much to tell.”

  Marcy waved a hand, the bangle bracelets on her arm clinking together. “When it comes to someone like Trent Sherbrooke, there’s always a lot to tell. How about we start with how you two met?”

  Her gut instinct was to tell the reporter it was none of her business. Whatever happened between her and Trent concerned only them. But she’d read enough magazine articles to know when it came to well-known public figures, that wasn’t always the case. In fact, not long ago she’d read an article about Trent’s cousin Sara after she announced her engagement to billionaire Christopher Hall. So unless she wanted the reporter to make stuff up, she’d better answer. “We met by accident. He bumped into me on Benefit Street outside Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Cafe one afternoon.”

  Marcy placed a MP3 recorder on the desk and switched it on. “Is that when the picture of you two together that appeared in the Providence Gazette was taken?” As she spoke, she pulled a notepad with questions from her bag.

  The woman came prepared. Addie eyed the long list of questions on the pad. Judging by the length, they were going to be there for a while.

  For over an hour Marcy asked questions that spanned from how they met to whether or not she’d met his family. She’d even gone so far as to ask if t
hey’d discussed moving in together yet. Throughout the interview Addie reminded herself that it was better for both of them if she answered rather than let Marcy speculate and fabricate some kind of story. Of course, she realized that even by answering the questions that didn’t mean Marcy wouldn’t concoct something of her own anyway. Wasn’t that something celebrities complained about all the time?

  “Thank you for answering my questions today, Addison. I appreciate your cooperation.”

  Addie forced a smile as she watched the reporter return her belongings to her bag. “Anytime, Marcy.”

  Slipping the leather strap from her briefcase onto her arm, Marcy stood, her Cheshire cat smile on her face again. “I wish you all the best of luck with Mr. Sherbrooke. Maybe you’ll be the one to finally tame him. Just because a princess couldn’t doesn’t mean you can’t.”

  At the reporter’s comment fear twisted around her heart, but Addie made herself smile. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

  She kept the smile on her face until the office door closed behind the reporter. Once alone again she sagged back into her chair and blew out a slow deep breath. Even before their brief run-in on the sidewalk that day, she’d known about Trent’s reputation. That didn’t mean she liked to think about it or what it meant for their future together. Rather, she preferred to enjoy their time together, getting to know the real him. And while much of what she read about him was true, there was so much more to him. He had goals that he wanted to accomplish that no magazine ever wrote about. He enjoyed hanging around and just watching movies with her. He hated country music but listened to it anyway in the car with her because she liked it. And no matter what, Trent was always polite and considerate. Not once since they’d started dating had he put his own personal preferences first. Magazine articles never mentioned any of those things. Things that she loved about him.

  Addie didn’t even pause as the word love materialized in her thoughts. They hadn’t known each other all that long, but already her heart had become engaged in their relationship. She’d never fallen so hard so fast for a guy. With her last relationship, they’d known each other for more than a year as friends before ever going on their first date. Even then their relationship remained casual for the first few months of dating. Only after five or so months had they committed themselves to a long-term relationship that in the end lasted for two years.

  Nothing about this thing with Trent resembled that relationship or any of her others. She missed him like crazy when they were apart. When they were together they didn’t need to do anything special. She enjoyed sitting in his arms and talking. As far as she could tell he enjoyed it, too. He never insisted they go out. In fact, if she hadn’t read otherwise in countless magazine articles she’d guess he hated clubs and parties.

  And if you hope to see him tomorrow, you better get back to work. Addie hit a key on her keyboard and the screen came to life again. Yup, she’d save the dreams for tonight when she climbed into bed.

  ***

  Trent leaned back in his office chair and looked around, once again amazed at the transformation. The ideas, which looked good on Addie’s computer screen weeks ago, appeared even better in reality. She’d turned the lackluster space into a personal sanctuary, a place almost as inviting and comfortable as his own home. If she’d done that to this space, he couldn’t wait to see the end results to his home in Newport.

  Already he pictured the two of them in the kitchen she’d designed sharing breakfast while they enjoyed the ocean view. She’d promised to have the final designs for the bathrooms ready for tomorrow night. Whether she managed it or not didn’t matter to him. All he cared about was seeing her. It’d only been a little more than a day since she left his apartment Sunday morning and gone to work at the bakery, but his body claimed it was much longer. After two nights falling asleep with her cuddled close, he’d had trouble falling asleep the night before without her. Then when he’d woken that morning alone, his apartment seemed cold and empty. Tomorrow morning it would be the same way.

  There’s one way to fix that. The thought jumped into his head. If she moved in he’d fall asleep with her next to him every night and see her every morning. Not only that, but if she moved in she’d have money and perhaps quit the bakery. Asking her would benefit both of them. His mood brightened at the thought.

  But was it too soon? He’d never asked a woman to move in with him. Was there an appropriate time frame for that sort of thing? And if he did ask, would she agree? The initial confidence toward the idea dimmed. Before he jumped in and did something unwise, he better think about it.

  Across the room, a knock sounded on the door just before it opened and Marty Phillips entered for their scheduled appointment. “Judging by those photos in The Star Report Magazine, you’re making great progress with Addison.” Marty dropped his briefcase on the conference table. “Excellent work.”

  He almost told the advisor to shut his mouth, but he managed to keep silent. Instead, he took a seat across from Marty, ready to work.

  “A source of mine at Today Magazine informed me the chief editor sent Marcy Blake out to interview her.”

  This time no amount of self-control could hold back his groan. Marcy Blake was well known for her celebrity pieces. In fact, she’d done multiple ones on his cousins Jake and Sara in the past, both times manipulating or plain old making up facts so the stories were juicer.

  “But before we get into the specifics of your relationship, I want to focus on your likely competition as of now.” Marty pulled a laptop from his brief case. “I know for a fact Daniel Potter has hired Roberta Featherton as his advisor. In case you haven’t heard of her she worked on Governor Wentworth’s campaign and Senator Lockhart’s.”

  While not well, he knew Daniel Potter. They’d attended Harvard for a year together; Daniel had been a senior the year Trent started.

  “Potter possesses no political experience either,” Marty continued. “However, he does have a wife of three years and a one-year-old daughter. As of yet I’ve been unable to uncover anything that would tarnish his reputation, but I have people digging.”

  Trent doubted Marty’s search would dig anything up. The Daniel Potter he remembered was a decent guy if not a bit full of himself.

  Marty powered up his laptop. “Of course he doesn’t have the same financial resources as you or the same family clout.” When the screen lit up he brought up a file and then pushed the laptop off to the side. “I’ve also heard, although it hasn’t been confirmed, that Harry Thatcher intends to run as an independent. Thatcher himself isn’t a concern, but he might pull just enough votes away from you, allowing Potter to win.”

  Trent agreed. There was next to no chance that Thatcher could win. He’d run in the past two elections and lost. His entry into the race as a third party candidate, however, could affect his own chances at election. “What are the chances he’ll run?”

  “Not sure. I’ve heard a rumor from another source that his health is failing. If that’s true, a run for Senate might be too much for him. We’ll have to keep an eye on things.” Marty paused for a drink of water. “Now there are some upcoming functions you need to attend. I’ve prepared a spreadsheet for you listing them in order of importance, who’ll be in attendance that you need to connect with, and when they are. I’ve already procured the necessary invites. I need you to decide which ones fit your current schedule.” He turned the laptop so Trent could see the screen. “The Charity Auction for the Providence Children’s Hospital is in my opinion the most imperative at present. Agatha Beland, Vincent Beland’s wife, is on the board of directors and this is her baby. She oversees this auction every year.”

  Trent recognized the name. Vincent Beland, a former Rhode Island governor and wealthy businessman, remained well respected in Rhode Island politics.

  “In the past five years no candidate with Beland’s backing has lost an election. You want him on your side.”

  As Marty spoke, Trent scanned the list of various events ran
ging from fundraisers to house parties. For now, he’d commit to the hospital fundraiser. Later he’d go through the list in more detail and pick and choose what events he and Addie wanted to attend. “I’ll take care of this before the weekend is over.”

  “I emailed you a copy already. Now let’s discuss your personal life. I’m pleased to see you’ve kept away from other women, or at least haven’t been seen with any. And thus far the media has only had positive things to say about your relationship with Addison.”

  At Marty’s words, Trent’s instincts went into defensive mode. The idea of discussing something so personal with the advisor left a sour taste in his mouth. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any way around it. He’d just make sure to keep it from getting too personal. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

  “Good. I assume that means you’ve moved past the just holding hands stage.” Marty gave him a knowing look, and Trent ground his teeth together to keep from saying something he’d later regret.

  In the past he’d shared the details of his sex life with friends, yet now Marty’s question caused his anger to flare. The already present need to protect what he shared with Addie kicked itself up a few more degrees. “You don’t need specific details. All you need to know is we’re happy together,” Trent answered his voice cool and controlled.

  “In that case do you think we can manipulate the time table? Is a marriage proposal in the next two months or so possible? Perhaps a wedding by spring—and who knows— maybe a baby on the way next year at this time when the real campaigning starts?”

  He pictured Addie in his life on a permanent basis with no problem, but he despised the planned and calculated way Marty mapped it out. “I see no reason to rush everything.” When his fingernail bit into his palm, Trent realized he’d clenched his fist and relaxed his hands. “Let’s leave everything as planned.”

  Across the table Marty’s eyes narrowed. “You hired me to win. The sooner you turn into a happily married man the better,” Marty said, his southern drawl becoming more distinct. “And if there is the possibility of making you a happily married family man, all the better. Especially now that we know Potter will be your main competition.”