Chapter Two
In the late-morning lull, Megan emptied out the tip jar and headed to the back office of the coffee shop to divide the tips. She wasn’t sure why they’d hired her back when she’d come in to apologize after realizing all the crap jobs in Pasadena were taken. However, she didn’t really care so long as she earned enough money to pay off her exorbitant cell-phone bill and buy a new charger. Her life was on that phone and since the battery died she’d had no way to contact anyone.
She’d skated through the first twenty-five years of her life without a plan, and that blew up in her face in spectacular fashion. Once she got everything back in order, no one and nothing would throw her into such disarray ever again. Brandon hadn’t bothered her in the last week, cementing the realization that she’d been terribly wrong about trusting him in the first place.
She sorted the money into two piles, one for her and one for Wendy, who’d worked the shift with her. As the money added up, she did a mental calculation of what she’d saved and realized she’d be able to pay off what she owed on the phone today, maybe even sweet talk the guy at the store into ordering the charger since she should have enough for it by the time it arrived. Hopefully it was a guy at the store. The last two times she’d been in, the women had been less than helpful, not even letting her charge the phone for a few minutes so she could copy some numbers off.
“I don’t think it’s fair for us to split the money.”
“Really?” Megan looked up to where Wendy stood in the doorway to the small office. Wendy had spent most of the morning sitting at a table with one of her friends instead of helping customers, but she usually did that.
“This is some kind of reality show thing for you, right? I’ve seen you and your celebrity friends on television.” She flicked her black hair off her face, the sleeve of her shirt inching higher with the move and revealing a purple bruise.
Megan’s stomach lurched and knotted. “Do you see cameras anywhere?”
“They must be hidden. I figure it’s some kind of experiment that you’ll get to laugh about next year when it’s in prime time. I shouldn’t have to split tips with you. It’s not fair.”
“That bruise on your arm doesn’t look fair.” She met the woman’s gaze, recognizing the shame as Wendy tugged down her sleeve.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I hit my arm on a door.”
“I know people you can talk to. They know how to help you, keep you safe.” Megan glanced down at the money, wishing she didn’t need it.
“I don’t want to be part of your TV crusade. Keep me out of your reality show, okay? I know how they work. You do this crazy thing and bored people get to watch, and the next thing you know, you’re famous for no reason. I’ll still be right here, and I shouldn’t have to share money with you. I have real problems, bigger than which dress to wear on the red carpet.”
Megan stacked the bills in two piles, placing the change on top. “Maybe you don’t make it past the entertainment section of the newspaper, but my father nearly bankrupted a company. I’m working here because I need to, not for publicity.” She grabbed her bag and pulled out one of the white cards she kept in the inside pocket. “If you need the money today, you can have it. But I won’t do it again unless you call this number.” She slid the two piles of money together and placed the card on top.
Wendy lifted the card and read. “Evelyn Hattem Catering?”
“If he finds it, tell him she offered you a waitressing job at parties she caters.” Megan stood, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand why women don’t leave the first time it happens. It doesn’t just stop.”
“I have a kid and two dogs. It’s not that easy to just walk away. You don’t get to judge me.”
“I’m not.” Her heart tugged at the realization that animals often kept people in bad situations. Before her life went to hell in a handbasket, she’d been trying to work out a way for the Carlton Houses to accept animals as well. “If you need my share of the tips, you’re welcome to them. If it’s for him, I have better things to spend my money on.”
Wendy nodded and grabbed both stacks of cash. “I’ll think about calling.”
“Don’t ask for my tips again until you have. You can count out the till. I’m out of here.”
Megan made her way out of the coffee shop, the bell on the door ringing her departure. After six hours on her feet last night and six again this morning with only an hour in between, she should go home and sleep before she started the whole cycle over again. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not now.
As the day crept towards noon, the air warmed around her while she walked the mile and a half to the reason she’d landed in Pasadena. Her mother had funded the first Cassie Carlton Retreat House thirty years ago to honor Megan’s great-grandmother and the founder of the Carlton Hotel empire. Even with the loss of its major benefactor, the charity was still running.
For now.
Megan stopped at the white picket fence, looking up at the non-descript façade. To those who passed by, it was just another home in an old neighborhood. For her, it was a sanctuary whose walls had saved countless women. It was the embodiment of what her great-grandmother stood for, of how far she came from a battered wife to boarding house manager to hotelier. She’d made a plan for how her life would be and nothing got in her way.
With new determination, Megan made her way down the front path and around to the back door where she used the numbered lock to let herself in.
“Megan? I’m surprised to see you,” Evie said, piling up the paperwork she’d been busy with. The home’s director often worked at the kitchen table so she’d be open to any of the guests who might need to talk. “I thought you were working today.”
“I’m done for a few hours, so I thought I’d check in.” She sunk into one of the chairs and listened to the quiet of the house. “The kids left?”
Evie nodded and shrugged. “They packed up most everything this morning and headed to a cousin’s house in Oregon.”
“Briana went to Oregon. I don’t suppose she’s called?” She missed her sisters terribly. One of the reasons she was so focused on the cell phone was to be able to use the numbers in it to make sure they were okay.
She’d almost given in last week and asked Brandon if he’d tracked down her sisters the way he had her. Was he simply after the money her father had embezzled and not above using the man’s children to find it, or did seven years of sharing her body with him mean he owed her the thinnest sliver of responsibility?
Not enough to warn her that her life was about to implode, or even keep other women out of his bed. Her heart and eyes began to ache, so she put the image of Brandon and Gemma Ryan firmly out of her mind.
Evie shook her head. “A fresh start will do them all good, I think. And it means we have a room, if you want it back.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here. There’s a woman from work who might be calling.”
…
“Are you sure you won’t marry me?” Gemma Ryan all but stomped into Brandon’s office and perched on his leather couch, her pout in full force. “It’s just a year of your life. What do you have to do this year that you can’t do married to me?”
Brandon watched from behind the open armoire as Danny turned his wheelchair around behind the large mahogany desk. His smile was as big as her eyes.
“If you have your heart set on getting married today, sweetheart, we can leave right now.” Danny leaned on his elbow, tilting his body towards the pretty blonde.
When Gemma jumped in shock, Brandon couldn’t help but laugh. He supposed sitting down and from behind he and Danny looked enough alike—short dark hair, broad shoulders, the obligatory dress shirt and tie. But the wheelchair wasn’t the only way to tell them apart. Dan shaved twice a day, while Brandon put it off until he couldn’t pass it off as stylish shadow anymore.
“This isn’t funny.” Gemma turned to look at Brandon, then gestured towards Danny. “Did you tell him?”
After collecting the file he needed, Brandon closed the armoire and walked to his desk. “This is your train wreck, not mine. Though you should tell him. He knows everything about everyone. He could tell you who’s likely to milk you for your inheritance faster than I could.”
“Wow, Gemma, train wrecks, marriage and an inheritance? You’re a movie of the week, darlin’.” Danny wheeled around to the front of the desk.
“I told you, this isn’t funny.”
“No, you told him it wasn’t funny, me you tend to ignore. But if you want to look my way, we can head to the courthouse right now.”
“I can’t marry you.”
“Of course you can’t, honey.” Dan leaned back in the chair and patted the padded armrests.
“That’s not why!”
Brandon cleared his throat. “You know, Gem, he’s not a bad option. I trust him with my life.”
“Really.” Gemma leveled her gaze at him, and then turned to Danny. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”
Danny’s head whipped around. “What is with the matrimonial fever in this room?”
“He claims he can’t marry me because he is marrying someone else, but he won’t tell me who.”
Suspicion flickered in Danny’s gaze before he turned back to Gemma. “He’s no prince charming, sweetheart. I’m definitely a better catch.”
“Would you be serious!”
“Why do you want to marry him anyway? He works too much, his feet stink and he snores.”
“Hey! Those were your shoes you were always smelling, and I do not snore.” The trouble with staying friends with someone who had watched you go through the most awkward and malodorous years of adolescence was that no matter how you grew up, you were still that angry kid who got tossed into military school for having one too many parties at his parents’ house. Actually, it was the party on the yacht that sent him to Colvard Military Institute. He had to grin at all he learned there. It was as much about how to behave as it was about how to not get caught misbehaving.
“Don’t listen to him. He snores like a bear.”
“No, I don’t.” Megan had never said anything, and she wasn’t the type to keep something like that to herself. Though she never slept over as often as he liked, but he always thought that had more to do with her need for privacy than him.
“Go on then,” Danny motioned for the phone. “Let’s call your bride and ask.”
Brandon only glared. He’d figured Danny had begun to put things together about Megan, but this confirmed it.
“I knew you weren’t really getting married.” Gemma sat up straighter.
“No, he is. Well, he wants to, his bride isn’t as convinced he’s husband material as you are.”
She slumped back into the cushions and looked at Brandon. “What about Dane Preston? Do you—”
“Gay,” Danny said.
“Excuse me?” Gemma’s long hair cascaded over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side.
“He’s gay.”
Brandon drummed his fingers on his desktop. “For her purposes, that wouldn’t matter. But he’s too much of a risk.”
“The gambling thing?” Danny looked up at him. Brandon nodded in response. “What about one of your investment-club friends? Who’s the one with the boss who wants him married?”
“Cameron, and, no. His boss wants him to have a wife to run his life, not a paper marriage.” If he told any of the guys about Gemma’s predicament, they’d laugh and tell him to buy the estate for her. But his money, and some of theirs, was still tied up in the Carlton International deal.
Danny shook his head and wheeled closer to where she sat. “Okay, so let me get this straight, princess. You’re okay with marrying a gay guy or a guy who’s hopelessly hung up on someone else, but the string of pretty boys you play with aren’t in the line-up. Why is this?”
Gemma shot him a desperate look, but Brandon could only shrug. “Go ahead, tell him.”
She narrowed her gaze and then turned to Danny. “My grandfather decided to make my inheritance contingent upon being married for one year by my thirtieth birthday. I have a month to get married, or else next year my inheritance will go to some Antarctic exploration fund.”
“Ah, the last frontier.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“You don’t want to get married, then get a job, princess. It’s not as if you didn’t know this was coming. It sounds to me like you’ve known for a while you’d have to hitch up.”
“It’s not just about the money. It includes the Ryan Estate. All those people would have to find new homes because I doubt some Antarctic explorer is going to want to hold on to an Alzheimer’s center.” Her face reddened and her voice rose with each word. She swallowed hard and seemed to gain her control back. “I can’t marry just anyone off the street. There’s a clause that I can’t have a prenuptial agreement. It has to be someone I trust not to stick with me for a year and then rob me blind in the divorce. It isn’t worth doing if I’m going to lose everything anyway.”
Brandon scratched his head and shifted in his seat. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Gemma. But I can’t marry you.”
“Because of this mystery woman. Are you sure she’s worth me losing everything?” There was desperation in her dark green gaze, but it didn’t tempt him in the slightest. Neither had the kiss she’s planted on him a few months back when she first told him about her crazy scheme. He wanted Megan and nothing was ever going to change that.
A smile slowly spread across his face. Megan was worth any risk. But he didn’t have to throw his friends to the wolves, either, just at each other. “We’ll think on it. There’s got to be a man in California who doesn’t need to marry you for your money.”
“I guess if that’s the best you’re going to offer, there’s nothing more I can do.” Gemma rose, brushing a hand over the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. He got up from the desk and circled around to hug her before she left. She was so defeated by all this that he knew he had to think of some way out of it for her.
Once she was gone, he sat on the edge of his desk and waited. Danny kept quiet for long minutes before speaking.
“You’re really going to marry Megan Carlton?”
“First chance I get.”
…
Brandon blinked his dry eyes when the phone call notice popped up on his screen. Studying the Carlton reports was mind numbing, so a call would be a welcome break from the monotony. Except he didn’t have the answers David Strong wanted to hear.
He clicked on, because ignoring the call would be chicken shit, and he’d never hear the end of it at their next investment-club meeting. Best to get it over with in private, rather than around the table. And through the phone, he wouldn’t have to see David glaring like the Incredible Hulk about to smash him into oblivion. Because that’s what friends did when you thought with the wrong head.
“Is this a personal reminder to renew my gym membership?” He tried for levity, hoping the fitness empire CEO had a sense of humor in there somewhere.
“How’s my money, Brandon?”
Ah, hell. “That would sound a lot less menacing if your voice were a few octaves higher.”
“If you were afraid of me, I’d already have my money.” The weight of whatever it was David had actually called to say hung in the silence. “I’m not into hotels. Are you going to drag this out, or can we close up before the end of fourth quarter?”
And to think, rumor was the guy had softened since getting engaged. “Restructuring on this level takes time. It won’t go past first quarter, you have my word.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble with this deal? You’ve never been sketchy before. If it’s going to be a loss, I’d rather take the hit this year than next.”
Staring at the Carlton balance sheets and listening to David was a one-two punch of reality. “The deal is solid, just slow because of the litigation.”
“Solid is not how I would describe buying a hotel corporation you plan to dismantle. But that’s not actually why I called.”
“I don’t know if I should be relieved or scared.” He tried on a laugh, but it sounded flat even to him.
“Who’s the girl?”
“What girl?” He shifted in his seat.
“Or guy. I’m not judging. You know what Gibbons would say about this, right?”
That thinking with the wrong head ruined businesses and careers faster than anything else. Yes, he knew exactly what the professor who put the investment group together would think of his decision to take over Carlton International. He cleared his throat. “This is a profitable venture. Not by my usual margin, but we won’t lose money on the deal.”
“Here’s the thing. Whoever you did this for is leading you around by the dick, and that is never a good idea.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands, unsure how to respond and still sound like an adult.
“So this girl or guy or whoever, did it have the desired effect? Because if not, pull the plug and sell it all instead of holding out for better offers.”
The flagship Carlton luxury hotels were all that remained in the portfolio. He didn’t feel like they were his to sell. He wouldn’t unless that was what Megan wanted, and he couldn’t get her to talk to him right now, let alone have a financial conversation.
“Who’s the girl?” David repeated, slower this time.
Time to put it all out there. “Megan Carlton.”
“Damn.”
“That about sums it up.”
David laughed, quietly at first, and then he gave up trying to hold it in. “Sophie is going to love this.”
“How about you don’t discuss it with your girlfriend.”
“She has this thing with gifts. I bought her a car once, and it didn’t go over well. I can’t imagine if I tried to buy her a company.”
“I don’t get it.” He hadn’t met the mysterious Sophie yet, and didn’t know a single woman who would be upset if someone bought them a car.
“It took me a while to get it, too. You’ll figure it out.” His laugh returned, which was strange because he wasn’t much of a joker. Maybe he was softening. “I recommend chocolate. It distracts Sophie long enough for me to figure out what I did wrong.”
“Megan is more of an ice cream person.”
“Well, stock up. The sooner you get right with your girl, the sooner I get my money.”
“Glad to know you care.” David made a good point. What he needed to fix the Carlton deal wasn’t financial maneuvering, no matter how hard he looked at the reports. He needed to know what Megan wanted to do with the properties before he could do anything else.
“Don’t let it get around that I give a damn. I’ll see you in New York next week, right?”
“I’ll be there.” Changing the subject every time someone asked about his latest project.
Unless he could fix things with Megan before then. He just had to knock down the wall she’d built between them.
…
By the time she got off the second bus, Megan realized she really should have slept for more than an hour yesterday. Even though it was mid-day, it wasn’t safe to be nodding off on public transportation, especially with a transient eyeing your handbag.
Luckily, the sun on her face bolstered her enough to fake alertness as she walked to her apartment. In the last two weeks she’d been working both jobs every day, volunteering at Carlton House, and barely sleeping more than an hour at a time. It seemed every time she’d drift off, she’d hear something that spooked her—cars backfiring, neighbors fighting, kids playing a joke and trying to open her front door. At least she hoped it was a joke. Either way, she couldn’t relax and was running on nothing but adrenaline and caffeine.
It felt like treading water in the middle of a deserted ocean, no rescue in sight. Wendy had been talking with Evelyn, and collecting double tips for it. Megan wanted to help, but she couldn’t afford to for much longer. Each month that she didn’t pay off her old cell-phone bill, they tacked on a ridiculous interest fee. It was as if they expected her to dig her way to China with a runcible spoon. She’d even started going to other electronics stores looking for the charger, but it seemed her phone wasn’t a standard model. Of course. Ava had picked them out, and she always got the latest thing.
Megan walked faster, hoping momentum would carry her far enough to get behind a locked door before she crashed. She was so exhausted even her brain was tired, so she might actually get some sleep rather than lying awake and wondering about her family.
“Where have you been?” The deep voice rocked her back on her heels and the slamming of a car door sent adrenaline rushing through her veins. She grabbed for the can of pepper spray on her keys as her brain slowly registered the hulking figure walking towards her.
She had half a mind to spritz him with the pepper spray anyway. “Damn it, Brandon. You scared me.”
“I shouldn’t have. I’ve been watching you for two blocks. If you’re going to live in a place like this, you need to be aware of your surroundings.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt bunching around his shoulders with the movement.
“You shouldn’t jump out in front of women, or you might find yourself on the wrong end of a can of mace. There, we’re even. One piece of advice for another.” She stepped off the curb, hoping to get across the street and up the stairs before Brandon caught up with her.
His fingers wrapped around her arm, keeping her from fleeing. “I saw Ava.”
Megan froze. The problem with sleeping with the enemy was that they knew exactly where you were vulnerable. She needed to know that her sisters were all right. She hadn’t spoken with either of them since they were thrown out of the hotel and had that horrible fight.
They used to talk almost every hour, and now the only sound between them was silence. She needed to hear their voices, but she’d settle for knowing one of them was okay.
She turned to face Brandon, cocking her head to the side and trying to appear haughty for all she was worth, which wasn’t much anymore. “And?”
“She said you had quite the fight, you know, about me. It seems that to her, you were all about defending my honor. And yet when I see you, you can’t be bothered to even step on my toes. What’s that about, Meg?”
“I didn’t have all the facts. It turned out you are every bit as cold and ruthless as my sister thought.”
“Come on now, Meg. Cold isn’t something I’ve ever been around you.”
“You don’t feel the chill?” She stared into his dark eyes, wishing she’d realized that what she’d read as concern for all those years hadn’t been anything close.
He met her gaze and held it, doing the most convincing acting job of appearing hurt. As if she could do him any damage. Nothing another big deal and Gemma Ryan couldn’t soothe, anyway. She shook off his arm and took a step back.
“What else did Ava say?”
“You want to know, get in the car.” He used the remote to unlock the doors on his Escalade.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I’m not discussing your sister in the middle of the street. So either you get in the car and let me take you to lunch like the civilized woman you used to be, or we go upstairs to what you call an apartment and talk through what is going on. Your choice.” He opened the passenger door of the SUV and stood beside it.
If he needed to tell her something about Ava in private, it couldn’t be good. Her gut twisted with fear and the memory of the last time she’d seen her older sister. They’d fought horribly about where to go and what to do. Ava had always let men use her, sleeping with guys who didn’t deserve her time, let alone her body. And she’d thought that was the solution again, find a boyfriend who’d let them move in until everything was sorted out. It was sad, more so because Megan had left the hotel with the intention of asking Brandon for help, and found his lips occupied by a tramp he’d always described as a friend.
She shook her head, refusing to wallow in her own mistakes. If Ava was in trouble, she needed to know about it. Better to find out the details in public. Whenever Brandon was too close, she tended to forget about what she’d seen in that hallway.
Not wanting to give Brandon the satisfaction of hearing her agree to his demands, she merely climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in while he closed the door. The smell of his aftershave swirled around her, but she refused to let it remind her of what used to be. He was Gemma’s now. Maybe she ought to find a way to let the witch know just who’d picked out this particular scent for him.
She stared out the window as Brandon got in and started the SUV. She’d always been careful to keep things private, to maintain a clandestine air about their relationship. It was supposed to keep things exciting, keep him from getting bored and moving on. Her father had once said the surest way to get a man to leave was to ask him to stay, so she never gave herself the option. She’d always been the one to leave, showing up unexpectedly to keep him off-balance.
When Brandon started hinting about making their relationship more public, Megan had been purposely aloof. He’d said he wanted a ring on her finger, but he never bought one. He’d claimed he wanted to be able to take her out, but he never invited her. It had given her a hope that she knew better than to have.
Men like him, men like her father, didn’t love anything but the thrill of the chase—whether they were chasing women or money. She’d thought she could outplay him, but he moved faster than the scenery outside the car window. She closed her eyes and prayed Ava hadn’t been burned the same way.
“Are you asleep?”
Megan blinked at the sound of Brandon’s voice, unsure if she had drifted off. “Of course not.”
Yet somehow the car had stopped at an Italian chain restaurant they often had delivered. As she blinked to awareness, she realized this would be the first time they went to a restaurant together. Sure, they’d shared a meal alongside dozens of their common friends at parties, but whenever they were alone, they were always ensconced in his penthouse. It was right across from her father’s, so no one ever questioned her coming and goings from the hotel. She’d thought she was being so smart, but in the end she’d learned the hard way what a fool she’d been.
Glancing over at him was a mistake. The look in his warm brown eyes could easily be mistaken for kindness, she could simply ignore that it must be pity. Guilt might be niggling at his conscience and she wondered if Gemma Ryan knew him well enough to notice.
It wasn’t that he was with Gemma that ripped at Megan’s heart—she knew men would never be faithful for long—but she did wonder how long he’d managed to juggle them both. She’d never seen it coming, never felt any of the twinges of suspicion that women talked about. Maybe because she’d never had a right to, maybe because she had a knack for showing up in his bed unannounced and uninvited, and he’d always been alone.
“Are you hungry?” Brandon asked, the pity evident in his weak smile.
“Not in the slightest,” she lied, clutching her bag to her middle. She was painfully close to having enough cash for the phone charger, and she wasn’t about to waste her money on food. She could eat again at work, except she didn’t work either job until Wednesday, two days away. Still, lunch here would use up a quarter of what she’d managed to save since she’d forfeited her tips to Wendy.
His gaze swept her body. “You’re too thin. Doesn’t that scare you?”
While he climbed out of the car and circled around to open her door, Megan glanced down at herself as if for the first time. She’d always been the thicker Carlton sister, but it wasn’t much of a club. Ava had curves that left too many men drooling, while Megan had a chocolate addiction, or had when she’d been able to afford it.
She slipped out of the car, her mind still reeling with the realization her skinny jeans were being held up by a belt, while Brandon’s hand at the small of her back steered her into the restaurant and to their table.
The heavenly aromas of garlic and herbs danced around her as she tried to focus on the bowl of ramen noodles she’d make when she got home. When the waitress arrived with a basket of warm breadsticks, Megan’s hand twitched under the table. She swallowed hard and her stomach grumbled in protest.
Brandon stared at her, as if daring her to give in and order, but she merely shook her head and dug her fingernails into her palms. She was here to find out what he knew about Ava. After that, she’d figure out just where they were and take a bus back to the apartment. This wasn’t a date. It was his guilt dragging him down to slum with her.
He shook his head and flashed a megawatt smile at the waitress. “She’ll have a diet cola and the mixed grill, hold the potatoes. I’ll get the seafood alfredo and iced tea.”
“Water is fine for me, actually.” She wasn’t about to take in any more caffeine. When she made it back to her mattress, she had a date with as much sleep as she could manage. Megan hoped her Hollywood smile matched his. Either way, the waitress didn’t seem to notice their display at all before she bustled away.
“You need to eat, Megan.”
“What I do is none of your business. I came here so you would tell me about my sister.”
He stared at her as if she’d started speaking a foreign language. She met his gaze and held it, loathing each time she had to blink.
“No.” Brandon reached into the basket and took out a breadstick. Steam wafted up as he broke it in half.
“Then I’m leaving.” She scooted her chair out and wished she’d paid attention during the drive. There was no telling where they were or how many busses she’d have to take to get back to her illustrious Pasadena abode.
“I’ll tell you everything I know if you’ll eat something. You’re scaring me, Megan. For the first time in forever I don’t know what is going on with you and you’ve completely shut me out.”
The man should be an actor. He had the looks for it and managed to deliver that little spiel with enough conviction to convince anyone he cared. Anyone who hadn’t had him steal her family fortune and cheat on her on the same day. There really wasn’t any coming back from that.
She settled into her chair and slid her bag to the ground. If he was feeling so guilty about just how far she’d fallen, then maybe he should buy her lunch. Maybe a glass of wine and dessert, too. She hadn’t wasted money on either in far too long and he owed her in spades.
Brandon Knight had dragged her here under the pretense of telling her about her sister, the least he could do was pay for a meal. That’s what Ava would say anyway. Happy with her new decision, Megan reached for a breadstick of her own.
“So Brandon, what’s new with you? Any other lives you’ve scuttled lately?” She bit into the soft breadstick, the warmth intensifying the garlic flavor.
“Megan.” He cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his napkin. “I did not steal your family’s company. I saved it. Your dad—”
“You say potato…” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a corporate raider. It’s what you do. It’s not personal, it’s business. Pardon me if I happen to find what went down very personal.”
“I am an activist shareholder. He was bleeding the entire corporation. If I hadn’t managed to get him out of control and have the board sell off the subsidiaries, your precious Carlton Hotels would have been bankrupt.”
“It’s yours now. There’s not a Carlton in the mix anymore.” She leaned back in her chair and wished the waitress would return so she could order wine, maybe a whole bottle.
“Did you ever stop and think I bought it because I knew what it meant to you? You want so badly to paint me the villain in this, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She froze, anger boiling up from deep within her. It took her a few breaths before she could speak without wanting to spear him with a fork. Lucky for her, she’d had months to think about what she’d say to him.
“Spare me your guilt-induced back pedaling. If you don’t like yourself very much right now, it’s because of what you did, not how I reacted to it. It’s one thing to play me as hard and as rough as you did, it’s quite another to try and wrap it up in a pretty package and call it altruistic. Millionaires quake when you start buying into their companies because they know you plan on restructuring them right out of their income bracket, not because you are known for being soft and cuddly.”
“I’m talking about this deal, Meg.” He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. “This deal, not all the ones I did before or have done since. He was destroying something you were proud of.”
“I’m sorry, but my father isn’t at this table. I’m talking about you, Brandon. If you really were trying to save Carlton Hotels for me, you would have told me before it all went down.”
“If I’d have told you, you would have run straight to him.”
“You do see where your selfless logic gets fuzzy here, right?”
Brandon’s chest rose and fell as he huffed a deep breath. “You are exasperating. How hard is it to see that I was trying to do this for you, as a gift.”
“La Perla is a gift, Brandon.” She tamped down the images of just how much of the pricey lingerie he’d given her over the years. “Taking my family’s business for your own isn’t something you do to say happy birthday.”
He had the decency to look apologetic. “The timing stunk, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“I don’t care about your flimsy explanations. Let Carlton Hotels be a souvenir of a relationship gone wrong and leave me alone.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at her over steepled fingers. “No.”