Taking a Chance on Love Page 4

  “They’d figure it out if I wanted them to.”

  Thea laughed again, shaking her head. Anthony gazed out onto the rainy landscape, his stomach sinking. If the weather continued, this could get very, very bad. Gripping the door frame until his knuckles turned white, he pulled out his phone and started making calls.

  Despite her laughter, Thea was fuming. She imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios that ended in Anthony Bertram’s doom: falling off a cliff, getting run over by a tractor. Being sucked into quicksand. Was there quicksand in Washington State? If not, she’d go find some and bring it back and toss him into it.

  At the moment, Anthony was making very important phone calls. His voice had returned to its usual haughty tone, and the only satisfaction she received was hearing his frustration. When he caught her looking at him, he sent her a sardonic glance and headed upstairs.

  She speared a bite of pancake, now cold. She hoped he tripped on the stairs.

  He was going to get rid of her, was he? Not fucking likely. She would tie herself to the fridge before she let him throw her out. She had just as much right to be here as he did. And she wasn’t in the position to go on vacation whenever she wanted to. Rich assholes are the worst, she thought as she finished her cold pancakes.

  Thea poured herself a cup of coffee and added some coconut milk creamer to top it off.

  If she was going to stay here, that meant she’d be stuck here with him. Did she really want to spend the vacation she’d been desperate for with Anthony Bertram, the man she loathed? The man who would kill her if he knew about her involvement with that viral social media campaign?

  Not that she felt guilty about that. On the contrary. She was absurdly proud of how she, Mittens, and their friends had gotten the word out and how quickly the posts had gone viral. If they weren’t something that resonated with people, why would millions have shared the posts?

  Thea headed upstairs. She heard Anthony bark something into his phone. She felt badly for his poor assistant. She hoped he paid the girl way above her pay grade, because she obviously deserved it.

  Shutting her bedroom door and locking it for good measure, she opened the blinds, only to see that it was still raining. Thea blew out a breath. Well, like she’d told Anthony, she couldn’t leave in this weather. Even her four-wheel drive would slide right off the twisty, muddy roads into some ravine. Thea didn’t really want to die just because Anthony was pissed off at Ted.

  Thea sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling out the graphic novel she was close to finishing. A tale of a woman who discovers she has the power to see the future, the story had gotten dark and twisty with each panel that Thea drew. She’d intended this particular story to be one volume, but the story had expanded so much that Thea could see multiple volumes in the future.

  Although what did it matter how many volumes there were when Thea couldn’t find the courage to show anyone her work? She began to sketch the next page in pencil. She was so distracted, though, that she realized that she’d skipped a necessary panel for that page. Grumbling, she tossed that page into the trash and started over.

  Thea had begun drawing seriously in elementary school. Her parents’ marriage had been crumbling, and her mother, Beatrice, had been struggling with untreated mental illness for years. Art had become a way to escape. She’d go to her room and draw for hours as she’d tried to ignore her parents’ fighting.

  When Beatrice had died when Thea was twelve, Thea had had to shoulder much of the responsibility of caring for her younger siblings. Trent, her older brother, had done his part, too, although Thea had taken on a more motherly role. Thea’s younger siblings—Ash, Phin, and Lucy—had all been under the age of twelve at the time, too young to take care of themselves much.

  Thea had stopped drawing during that time. It had only been when she’d reached high school that an art teacher had taken in interest in her and her work. Mrs. Blake had encouraged Thea to draw and even to enter school art contests. Thea had won a swath of blue ribbons and trophies for her work.

  After high school, Thea had attended art school for all of a semester before the bottom had fallen out. At an art show showcasing her work, Thea had proudly shown not only snippets of the graphic novel she’d been working on, but other drawings in charcoal and pastels.

  “Do you know who that is?” Anna, one of Thea’s classmates, had whispered in Thea’s ear.

  “No, should I?”

  “It’s Henry Thatcher! The art critic!”

  Thea froze, delight and terror filling her in equal measures. Everyone at school knew how much influence Henry Thatcher had not only in the Seattle art scene, but internationally, too. He could make or break an artist’s career with a column only a few sentences long. But if he saw promise? That could be the catalyst to take an artist to superstardom.

  Henry was short and bald, and he spoke very little as he perused the students’ art. Thea had no idea why he’d deign to come to some student art show. Maybe someone had asked him and he’d done it as a favor?

  He stopped at Anna’s oil paintings, saying nothing for a long moment. Anna shot Thea a nervous glance. Finally, Henry pronounced, “Good,” and nothing else.

  Anna inhaled sharply, and when Henry turned to continue on, she did a little happy dance right then and there.

  When it was Thea’s turn, Henry gazed at each of Thea’s pieces in turn. Thea waited—hopeful, scared, but excited. Her work had consistently won awards and honors already. Her teachers rarely found fault in her work.

  But everything came crashing down within a second when Henry said, “Nothing about these pieces inspires me. They’re very drab and lifeless.”

  And that had been that.

  Thea had been crushed. She’d struggled to draw after that because she could only hear Henry’s words in her head with every stroke of her pencil against paper. Her professors were worried about her sudden lack of commitment. She failed to turn in assignments; she stopped going to class. She fell into a dark place, where she would be nothing but the poor kid from a dysfunctional family.

  Before her first year of art school had even finished, Thea had dropped out and hadn’t drawn a single thing for seven years. But when she’d begun working at Ferguson’s law firm, she’d needed an outlet for her boredom and frustrations.

  But Henry Thatcher’s disparaging words had somehow frozen Thea in time. She’d crafted query letters to agents that she’d never sent. She’d posted her work on a blog but had deleted it an hour later. The thought of sending her work out into the world paralyzed her with terror. She hated that she was such a coward. It was a phobia she’d yet to overcome.

  Her phone rang, breaking through her trip down memory lane. “Why are you calling me like some old person?” she answered, smiling.

  “Because I’m driving,” said Mittens.

  “You know you’ll get pulled over for doing that.”

  “Tough titties. You said you needed to tell me something. Did you run into a pack of mountain lions up there?”

  “Nothing that intense.” She inhaled, messing with her pencil. “There was actually a mix-up. There’s someone else here in the cabin, too.”

  “What? Are you serious? That’s bullshit. You paid for that. I hope you kicked her out. Or is it a guy? Wait, is he hot? If he is, don’t kick him out. Use him for sex and then kick him out.”

  “He’s not a guy you’d want to sleep with, unless you want to, like, die. Believe it or not, I’m stuck in a cabin with Anthony Bertram. Like, the Anthony Bertram.”

  Mittens gasped, and Thea was worried he’d swerve into oncoming traffic. Mittens made a few more incoherent noises before yelling into the phone, “This is amazing! Oh my fucking God!”

  Thea frowned. “But he’s an asshole.”

  “Yeah, I know. But now you have an opportunity to get even more dirt on him. Oh my God, oh my God. I’m going to hyperventilate. I need a paper bag. Thea, you can seduce him and get all of his dirty secrets! We can take that fucking compa
ny down!”

  “I’m hardly some spy that can seduce a man’s secrets out of him.”

  “You’re cute, he’s a hetero guy. Heteros have no taste. Use that va-jay-jay for the greater good.”

  Thea heard what sounded like sirens in the background, then Mittens said, “Oh shit, the po-po is here. Talk to you later!”

  Shaking her head, Thea tried to return to her graphic novel, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mittens had said. Thea wasn’t about to seduce Anthony Bertram. She also knew that this was the prime opportunity to discover something about him that could bring him and his evil company down.

  A few moments later, Anthony banged on her door. “Thea, I need to speak with you. Right now.” He barked at her like she was some lowly soldier in the army. Or worse, like a dog.

  She’d needed the reminder that he was a huge asshole. Mittens was right: this was a prime opportunity. She needed to take advantage of it.

  “I’ll be right there!” she singsonged as she thought, You’re going down, Bertram.

  5

  “I’ve pulled some strings, and my contact has agreed to drive up and get you in his Jeep,” said Anthony without preamble when she finally came downstairs.

  When he saw the flare of anger in Thea’s eyes, he ignored it. She was getting out of this cabin whether she liked it or not. He’d throw her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming, if he had to.

  “Are you serious?” she said. “In this weather? This is crazy. Once the rain stops I’ll drive out of here myself. Besides, I have four-wheel drive. How is a Jeep going to be better?”

  “We have no idea when the rain will stop. According to the weather, it isn’t supposed to let up for days. Maybe a week. I’m not prepared to wait.”

  “And what about you?” she countered. “What if you get stranded from the rain?”

  He shrugged. “I doubt that will happen.”

  “Since you’re so rich, why not call in your private jet? Or even better, Air Force One? I’m sure you have loads of contacts in D.C.”

  Each word from her was a barb, but he ignored them all. She could hate him all she wanted.

  “For one, you can’t land a plane around here,” said Anthony. “Secondly, getting a helicopter in this weather is complicated.”

  She scoffed. “Even for you?”

  “Yes, even for me.” His ego hated that he couldn’t get a helicopter here like he’d thought, and even worse, admitting that fact to this woman.

  Thea’s lips curled. “I thought you could do anything, Mr. Moneybags?”

  “Despite what you might think, I’m not the master of the universe.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Thea sighed dramatically. “What about my car? I need it, you know. I can’t just leave it here.”

  “I’ll have one of my guys drive it down when the rain stops.”

  Her nose wrinkled. Thea wasn’t conventionally attractive by any means, but she had the body of a dancer, lithe and tight. The thought of throwing her over his shoulder was way too appealing.

  He pushed the thought aside. The last thing he needed was to entangle himself with some hippie woman who would drive him insane within a week.

  You want her out of here so you don’t touch her, his mind told him.

  Okay, so what? He was under a lot of stress, and he was obviously losing his mind a little bit to be attracted to a woman like Thea. If he got rid of the temptation, the problem would be solved.

  Simple as that.

  Thea just crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

  He heard the steel in her voice, and although it amused him, it also rankled him. Standing, he used his height to tower over her. She just tipped her head up, reminiscent of when he’d tried to intimidate her during their first meeting.

  “I can make you,” he said in a low voice, “and I will. I promise you that. No one crosses me. No one.”

  “What will you do? Tie me up and carry me?”

  “If necessary.”

  They stared at each other, the moment lengthening until the tension was palpable. Anthony could just make out her pulse beating in her throat, and God Almighty, he wanted to kiss her right there and taste her skin.

  Then a loud boom shattered the moment, shaking the cabin. What the hell?

  Anthony followed the sound, but not before telling Thea, “You stay here.”

  “Hell no.” She pushed past him into the rain. Swearing, he followed. He wasn’t about to let her fall into a swiftly moving stream or get caught in the mud. He was getting rid of her fair and square, not through some random accident. He was an asshole, but as she’d so sweetly stated that morning, he wasn’t much for actual homicide, accidental or no.

  They followed the noise that was coming from below the hill where the cabin was situated. The rain fell steady and relentlessly, and Anthony had to concentrate on not getting his boots caught in the mud. With every step, the mud made a squelching sound, and it took twice as long to get down the hill as when it had been dry. He just hoped Thea was strong enough to walk back uphill in this weather, because he sure as hell wasn’t carrying her.

  The closer they got to the creek that had become a river in the rain, the more Anthony’s stomach sank. He realized they were nearing the small bridge that crossed the creek. When they rounded a copse of evergreens, Thea gasped, and Anthony wanted to punch something.

  A huge tree had collapsed onto the bridge, essentially breaking it in half. Much of the old, splintered wood from the bridge had been swept away in the creek.

  That bridge was the only way down the mountain to civilization. Without it, they were stranded.

  There was no way his guy could drive up here to get Thea out. It could be days—weeks—before anyone could get up here to help them. And despite his best efforts, getting someone to rescue them via helicopter was essentially impossible at the moment. Anthony had already talked to everyone he could think of and had gotten the same answer: no way in hell.

  Anthony broke out into a cold sweat before anger swept through him. He’d needed this time alone to reorder his thoughts, to get away from it all, to figure out what the hell he was going to do with all of the bullshit that was coming down on him. And now—now he was stuck with this woman who was currently at the edge of the bridge, just inches away from the rushing water below.

  Anger turned to panic as he watched Thea lose her balance, her arms flailing as the ground fell away from under her feet. In a flash, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up and away just in time.

  She cried out in surprise. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

  She pushed at his arm, but she weighed as much as a feather. Anthony set her down on firm ground none too gently. His body had heated at the feeling of her against him, and it only pissed him off more. He wiped rain from his face.

  “If we’re going to be stuck here,” he growled, “you can’t be fucking stupid. I’m not going to jump into the creek to save you if you fall in.”

  “I wasn’t that close! I can take care of myself.”

  Her face was red, rain rolling down her cheeks, her hair wet now that her hood had fallen away. One part of him wanted to kiss her into submission. The other part wished she’d fallen in the creek instead.

  He put her hood up. “Let’s go,” was all he said.

  When they returned to the cabin, Anthony headed upstairs to dry off, his mind whirling. He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck in this cabin with Thea, but by God, he could control himself if he had to. He was Anthony fucking Bertram. He hadn’t built his company from the ground up by being a damn idiot. He wasn’t going to let himself be distracted by his attraction to a woman who would only bring him down.

  He scrubbed at his face with a towel. He’d taken on people who had thought he would only be a failure. His wife had betrayed him with his best friend. He’d had investors that were shady, he’d fired employees who’d tried to scr
ew him over. He’d created his empire brick by brick with his own two hands, not caring who he stepped on as he made his way to the top.

  One tiny woman wasn’t going to lead to his downfall.

  Now that Thea had to stay at the cabin for the foreseeable future, she found herself rather wishing she had left when she could. The thought of Anthony throwing her out had made her stubborn, and now she was paying for it.

  She was stuck in this place with this asshole for who knew how long. When would anyone get up here to fix that bridge? It could be weeks.

  Just the thought of being in the vicinity of Anthony Bertram for weeks gave her hives.

  After they’d returned to the cabin, she’d looked him square in the face and said, “I can’t go anywhere now.”

  And to her surprise, he’d said, “No, you can’t.” Then he’d ignored her for the rest of the day.

  That evening, she came downstairs to smell bacon sizzling. Her stomach turned. She’d been vegan for only a few years now, but she’d quickly found that the smell of meat cooking made her sick to her stomach. It didn’t help that she knew firsthand where that meat had come from. She’d seen the animals suffering before being led to the slaughter.

  But her own stomach was rumbling with hunger, and, defiant, she went into the kitchen to begin making her own dinner. Anthony didn’t even glance up at her. It was like she didn’t even exist.

  Thea got some veggies from the fridge and began chopping. After putting some quinoa on to boil, she ignored Anthony as much as he ignored her. It was ridiculous, how they were acting, but she didn’t care. She hoped he choked on his bacon.

  Anthony soon began making a sandwich across from her, some version of a BLT, she thought. She wrinkled her nose as he piled the sandwich with bacon.

  “You’re going to have a heart attack eating that stuff,” she said.

  Anthony picked up the sandwich and took a big bite, chewing loudly in front of her. “Why, are you worried about me?” he asked sardonically after he’d swallowed.