Chapter Five
“I need you to take me back to Pasadena.” Megan’s warm hand curled around his biceps. Brandon had been listening to her bustle about the bedroom, refusing to open his eyes. Last night had been a doorway back to the way things were, and he’d bolted it shut. He was never going back through it.
“Brandon, wake up. I have a meeting at ten.”
His stomach tightened and he opened one eye. He did not want to let her go, not yet, not ever. He wasn’t deluded enough to think that things were back to normal, but at least they were moving in the right direction.
Megan sat on the bed, fully dressed and looking better than anyone should in her jeans and T-shirt. He cleared the sleep from his throat and wished she’d woken him up in her usual under-the-covers manner.
“Take your car.” He stretched his arms out, bringing one behind his head and the other around to her.
“The Bentley is yours now, not mine.” She shifted away from him, clutching Cash to her chest, the dog’s Fendi bag of toys already over her shoulder. “You brought me here. I need you to take me back.”
“No way. You’re not going to play this game with me again.” He sat up and reached for her, but she stood, still holding on to the dog as if fifteen pounds of puppy were the answer to all her problems. Cash stared at him as if he should know what to do.
“I didn’t ask to come here and I can’t take Cash on the bus unless he’s in his carrier, and I can’t find one anywhere.”
“You were going to leave and not even say anything to me?” He tossed back the blanket and stood, his heart hammering in his chest. Two minutes ago he’d thought he’d managed to get his world back in order, and now one small woman had turned it completely upside down. Again.
“I have nothing to say to you.” She gave him a haughty smile and kept her gaze on his face, only slipping once to check out his morning erection.
“Try again.”
“I can’t stay here. I have a fundraising meeting that I need to be at.”
He studied her for a moment, but he couldn’t pin down how she felt. He should be able to read her, but she had on such a front he couldn’t get past it to discern scared from angry, hurt from confused. “You need to be here. We’ve got to figure us out because I can’t keep going on like this.”
“There is no us, Brandon. You made sure of that.” A hurt flickered in her eyes that hit him like a kick to the balls. “The Carlton Houses are struggling without my family’s backing, so I have a brainstorming session with the directors to think of some other ways to keep things running. It’s actually important business, not a grown man having a temper tantrum because he wants what he can’t have.”
He gave her an aren’t-you-funny smile. “I’ll write a check. You’re not leaving.”
“I don’t want your guilt money.”
“Don’t let pride get in your way, Megan. Like you said, the Carlton Houses are actually important, unlike a grown woman having a fit because she can’t have things exactly the way she wants them. If the program needs the money, it doesn’t matter where it comes from. It matters to me that we talk this through without needing to trade insults.”
“Go ahead and send your check. If you won’t take me to Pasadena, I’ll call the car service that will let me take Cash, and not have money for rent next week.” She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and lifted her chin.
“You don’t need rent money. You’re staying here.” Brandon shook his head and rounded the bed to where she stood. Megan took a step back, so instead of reaching for her, he reached out and tried to comfort the confused dog in her arms.
“Like hell.” Fury flashed in her gaze. “I will not be the piece of ass you hide away in Malibu. I don’t care how far you think I’ve fallen now that I don’t have my father’s money, I am still better than that.”
He blinked, unsure where her anger was coming from. He held up his hands to stall out her attack. “You’re the one hiding. That’s what Pasadena is, you know. I’m going to take a shower. If you want me to take you to your meeting, I will. And then after we’ll talk until I understand why it is you think I’m the monster in the story of your life.”
He strode into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He turned on the taps and stared down at the fluffy white towel on the cold tile floor. How in the world could one woman be so hot for him one minute and despise him a few short hours later? He’d been sleeping in the interim, so there was no way he could have done anything to piss her off.
There was something going on in that pretty little head of hers, and he was going to find out what it was if it killed them both. He showered quickly, his mind spinning through what to say to her next and discarding options at rapid speed.
Brandon turned off the shower and reached for a towel. He dragged it roughly over his body, wincing as it scratched at his neck. He shifted, then winced again when it scratched at his hip. He glanced down, his eyes widening as he took in the bite mark mere inches from where it could have really hurt. He stepped to the mirror and inspected a world-class hickey on his neck.
Without stopping to think, he stormed to the door and threw it open. “What the hell did you do to me?” he screamed to an empty room.
…
Since Brandon told her to take the car, Megan didn’t think it was stealing. At least not in the most technical sense, hopefully not in the legal sense, either. She shuddered to think of him having her arrested and then posting bail just to ensure she had to stay within his reach. She wouldn’t put it past him, wouldn’t put anything past him anymore.
She stroked Cash’s soft head and leaned back in the padded leather desk chair, quietly relieved that she wouldn’t have to go back to the apartment tonight. When she’d collected her things, she’d come back to the car to find a cluster of teenage boys eyeing it. She doubted she’d spent ten minutes in the apartment, but that seemed to be all it took for them to recognize the opportunity.
With Cash, she’d have to stay at the Carlton House. Evie was not happy about having a dog in the building again. Megan completely understood why the director would think it sent the wrong message, and she’d probably spend all her tips paying one of the women to watch him while she worked, but she didn’t see that she had a choice.
If she left him at the apartment during the night, he’d be scared by all the noises and bark, getting her evicted. How she was going to sleep during the afternoons with all the bustle of the house, she didn’t know. But then she barely managed to sleep at the apartment anyway, so she supposed it wouldn’t be much different.
On the other hand, she’d slept beautifully in Malibu. Her body still hummed with barely requited satisfaction, but she would not give in to her baser desires. She made it so that Brandon would have trouble hopping from her bed to his new girlfriend’s, and that was going to have to be enough. Hopefully he’d get the message that she knew about his little fling and leave her the hell alone.
Away from him, she knew just how despicable he was, but for some reason whenever he was around, her love for him blurred the edges of what he’d done. It must have been like this for her mother. Experiencing first-hand the blinding pull of love showed how her mother could continue to stay with a man who routinely cheated on her, but it didn’t make it any easier to understand. It was hard not to buy into Brandon’s lies, but it was possible.
“Megan, we have a problem.” Evie stood in the doorway of her own office, her arms crossed over her chest. “When I asked to push the meeting back until this afternoon it was because of a family, one I’d really like to place here. It’s a single mom and her two daughters. They lost their apartment on the first of the month and have been living in their car.”
Megan nodded, her stomach feeling hollow. “They can have the room. I really just need someone to watch Cash while I’m at work for a few weeks until I can find a new place.” She swallowed hard and pinned on a smile.
“I don’t like the idea of having to be responsible for your dog. We have so much going on here.”
“It’s an easy way for someone to make money. Besides, I work at night. He’ll probably be asleep anyway.”
Evie sank into the worn sofa in the corner of the room. “I want to help you, Megan, I do. But isn’t there someone else who could watch him?”
Brandon flashed in her mind, but she shook her head to dispel the image. Yes, Cash would be safe with Brandon, but she might not get him back. She had dozens of so-called friends she’d be able to call once her phone finished charging, but she doubted any of them would want to help her. She had no one to depend on but herself, which was a hard place to be since she had an animal who depended on her.
“Evie, I want there to be a Carlton House that takes animals.” When the other woman opened her mouth, Megan held up her hand. “Hear me out. This isn’t just about me and Cash. By the time we get this program running, I know I’ll have figured out a better way to take care of him. But how many times do we see women who won’t leave bad situations because of pets? Or families who would rather stay in their car than here because of a dog? There needs to be an option for them.”
Compassion filled her dark gaze. “It’s not that simple. There are insurance issues and the other guests to consider. We don’t want someone who is afraid of dogs or allergic to cats to feel unwelcome.”
“That’s why I think it should only be available at one of the houses, not all of them. The directors communicate every day, so we should be able to make adjustments. The Carlton Houses fill the cracks in the system to keep people from falling through. This is just another way to do that.”
“And the added insurance? Megan, we don’t have enough money to make our operating budgets for much longer after the holidays. We need to focus on holding on to what we have, not growing our expenses. If we can’t figure out fundraising—”
“Are you starting without us?” Susan Mowery, the plump brunette who ran the Burbank shelter entered the room, followed by the directors from Santa Monica and Glendale.
Megan stared at the two women who followed the directors into the small room, her pulse quickening with recognition.
Jordana Knight’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence. Brandon’s mother was the grande dame of the charity set, but she’d never taken passing notice of the Carlton Houses before. Either Brandon had called her in to help, or to take over completely.
Likely the latter because with her, in a white bandeau mini dress held up only by the audacity of her fake breasts, was Gemma Ryan. Megan looked her over from her sparkly Jimmy Choo sandals to the blonde highlights and lowlights fighting for dominance atop her head. The girl was a hot mess, and a thousand times more suited to Brandon than Megan would ever be.
Knowing how much they deserved each other did nothing to quell the queasiness in her stomach or how her skin prickled with sweat. She still wanted to punch Gemma in her collagen-injected mouth. If not for Cash on her lap, she might have, no matter the cost. What did she have to lose anymore, really?
“Isn’t this great?” Susan grinned from ear to ear as she settled onto the couch. “Mrs. Knight called this morning to offer to help with fundraising. I’m so excited to get a plan in place so we won’t be in a panic next year.”
Megan swallowed and pasted on a smile. Her heart beat an urgent rhythm in her chest. Run, as fast and as far as you can get.
Brandon must have called his mother, and what was worse, he probably called in Gemma as payback for the marks she’d left on his body. The treachery of his games cut her to the quick. Maybe she should run, because obviously he was coming after her, and he wasn’t about to stop until she had nothing at all. If she got in the car right now, she could make it to Oregon by breakfast tomorrow. Let Brandon say she stole the car, in Oregon, Briana or her aunt could post bail. Though with her aunt’s cat collection, she couldn’t bring Cash. She held the dog tighter, her mind screaming for an escape, but she couldn’t see a clear way out.
“Megan,” Jordana Knight said, standing tall in her unforgiving leather blazer and slim pencil skirt. The statuesque brunette was pure sophistication and glamour. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“And you. I’m surprised you have the time to help us. The holiday season is always packed with functions for your causes.” She looked up at the older woman, trying to read an expression that showed nothing at all. Was this the cavalry bent on rescue, or the infantry on a mission to destroy the last thing she had? There was no way of knowing.
“I make time for what’s important.” Her dark gaze, so like Brandon’s dipped from Megan’s face to Cash, and back again. “If the Carlton Houses are in trouble, I have some ideas for how we can turn things around.”
“Me too,” Gemma chimed in, entirely too eager for Megan’s liking. She didn’t know Gemma well, though they’d gone to the same exclusive private school. Gemma had always been a little too boy crazy to make many friends. Megan wondered just how crazy it would make her to learn where Brandon was last night and how thoroughly he’d enjoyed himself. “There are some simple things we can do to give the organization a quick PR makeover.”
“Like what?” Evie asked, before Megan had a chance to tell Gemma what she could do with her ideas.
“Renaming the different houses.”
“Absolutely not.” Megan stood, her pulse thundering in her ears. “I’m not going to let you erase decades of dedication and support.”
“Megan, you need to listen.” Jordana’s hand on her arm was the only thing that stopped her from saying more, or from knocking the twit backwards out of the small room. “No one is discounting the effort your mother put into starting this to honor your great-grandmother. You just need to be realistic about what is best for the women you help. You will not get a single sizable contribution as long as Carlton is connected to the organization.”
Megan shook off her hand. “You want me out?”
Jordana shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You are key to the consistency of the organization. That you’re here speaks to the resiliency of women, which is what this is all about. Think about this—why are they called Carlton Houses?”
“Because there are women who slip through the cracks and don’t know how to accomplish what my great-grandmother did. My mother founded the charity and my family has been the primary supporter since inception.”
The older woman nodded. “So wouldn’t it be better if this were Amanda’s House? We could name another after your grandmother.”
Evie stood and came to stand beside Megan. “I like it,” she said softly.
“You see?” Gemma pressed her hands together in glee. “Then the fundraiser will be a rededication event. You won’t seem so desperate.”
“We are not desperate.” Megan’s decibel level belied her words, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to be put down by the woman sleeping with Brandon.
“Ladies, will you excuse us for a moment?” Jordana Knight gave a look to the others in the room that sent the five women scurrying. When they were alone, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Megan for long moments.
Megan met the gaze, not wanting to back down. If they wanted to force her out, she’d go kicking and screaming. She might not have been able to do a thing to stop the financial melee her father had started, but she could put the brakes on destroying this legacy.
The older woman let out a slow sigh and her gaze flickered to the dog and back to Megan. “You need help with this. These shelters are too important for you to let pride get in the way.”
“I will not let anyone undo what my mother built.”
“That’s fair, but Amanda was not born a Carlton and neither was your great-grandmother. No one is trying to take away the tribute to them, but in this community Carlton is synonymous with thief. No one will willingly hand anything with the name Carlton more money when they think he still owes them.”
Megan’s eyes closed as the argument registered and her stomach sank. Jordana was right. Donations had stopped cold along with the monthly support her parents had provided. They’d been running on reserve funds ever since and it wasn’t going to last much longer. They had to do something, or in addition to losing the hotel chain her great-grandmother had built from a run-down boarding house, they’d lose the homes they’d opened in her honor to shelter women from the storms of life.
She opened her eyes and nodded, her voice shaking as she spoke. “I won’t work with Gemma.”
Jordana blinked. “Why not? She does amazing PR work for a lot of different foundations. She has wonderful contacts that could really help this campaign.”
“My reasons are petty, and I don’t want to have to see her.” Or have to hear about how amazing and wonderful she was.
“I admire your honesty.” Her quiet laugh brought a smile to Megan’s face. “I’m curious about something else though. Why has my son had your dog for the last month?”
Megan started, a lie to cover the truth forming on her lips. It had become so natural to keep her relationship with Brandon to themselves, her first instinct was to keep up the charade. But since Brandon was with Gemma, a girl who’d attached herself to his mother, there was nothing to hide anymore.
“I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, so Cash has been bounced around a bit. But he’s back with me now.”
…
Every time he moved, the collar of his shirt scratched against the hickey Megan had left on his neck. To make matters worse, her other love bite was exactly where his jeans creased when he sat. It wouldn’t bother him at all if he were naked and she was here the same way.
He shifted in the chair, his jeans growing too tight yet again. After last night, he seemed to have a permanent semi, and if he didn’t get Megan beneath him soon he’d surely go mad. Not that he was altogether sane right now.
“Danny!” he bellowed to his empty office. No doubt the administrative assistants between their offices cringed, but he was beyond caring. When he’d arrived this morning, Danny’s people had already lost track of Megan. He knew part of that was his fault, having spirited her away to Malibu, but if he didn’t know where she was, he wanted someone to.
“Dude,” Danny said as he wheeled himself into the room. “We have an intercom. Stop being a Neanderthal and use it.”
“Where is she?” His foot tapped against the floor like a woodpecker on speed.
“Pasadena Carlton House. They’ve tagged her car, so she won’t be able to go anywhere in it without being tracked.”
The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d been panicked all morning that she’d run further away. He’d even called his mother with news the charity was in trouble to make sure someone set eyes on her today.
If the Carlton Houses really were struggling, his mother would know how to fix things. She knew millions of ways to separate rich people from their money. It was a family tradition of sorts, he and his father collected money and she doled it out to those who needed it. Really, his story was Robin Hood, not the Big Bad Wolf. Why couldn’t Megan see that?
Danny leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me what the real deal is with Megan?”
“Yeah, that’s what I need to know, too.” Gemma Ryan flounced into the office, tossing her oversized handbag on the leather couch. “She refuses to let me help with the campaign at her shelters.”
Brandon knit his brows together. “Why would you want to?”
“Your mother asked me to help.” As she spoke, she flittered her hands about like twitching butterflies. “I think she knows I’m stressed out and this would be a great distraction. But instead it was all, ‘Great ideas, Gemma. You can go now.’ Megan was openly rude to me. It’s like the Carlton’s lost their manners along with their money.”
Danny rubbed his nose, his gaze moving from Brandon to Gemma and back again. “You sent your mommy? How old are you?”
“What?” Brandon rubbed his cheek, stubble scratching his fingers. “She said the organization was having funding trouble. There’s no one better to help her.”
“Dude, you sent your mommy.” Danny began to chuckle.
“Stop saying it like that. I needed to know what they need to stay afloat.”
Gemma huffed and perched a hip on the glass-topped desk. “I don’t know why you’re helping her at all. She’s not very nice. Me on the other hand, you could help me and it wouldn’t cost you a thing.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a real peach.” Danny shook his head. “Every nice girl wants to insult the concept of marriage by tying the knot with an even richer man who won’t bother her for three hundred and sixty five days so she can inherit a mint, and then let her go without getting his hands on any of her assets.” He leered at Gemma in a way that wasn’t entirely gentlemanly.
She straightened up. “This was not my idea. My grandfather wanted to make sure I didn’t marry for money, he just had a bad way of insuring that didn’t happen, and a wonky timeline for it.”
“And you have some pretty exacting criteria. I can’t find a guy in all of California who I don’t think has a reason to take half of everything when you toss him aside next year. Except him.” He tilted his head towards Brandon.
“Oh no, no, no. I have my own problems, and this—” he swirled his hand in the air, “—this would make everything much worse. You do it.”
“She doesn’t want to ride around on my lap, if you know what I mean. I think it’s you she wants.”
Gemma stomped her foot. “I’m in the room! Why is everyone looking at me like I’m trash today?”
Danny shrugged, his gaze lingering on her chest.
“You wouldn’t know style if it smacked you in your block head.” She grabbed her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “You—” she pointed at Brandon, “—you need to stop feeling so damned guilty about the Carlton sisters. If Megan doesn’t want your help, take her at her word and she’ll get what’s coming to her.” She spun on her stiletto heel and pointed at Danny. “And as for you, mister know-it-all, I’m calling your bluff. You and me, New Years Eve, Las Vegas. Not because I like you, or I feel sorry for you being in that chair, but because if you do screw me, Brandon will pay me back.”
She shook her head, her blonde bob waving about her cheeks. “You men make everything far too complicated.” She sashayed out of the office as if she’d just solved the problem of world peace.
Danny cleared his throat. “You should have asked her what to do about your Megan problem. Since she has an answer for everything.”
No way was he letting Gemma into his personal life, especially if Megan already had a problem with her. “You’re just mad because you’re usually the one with all the answers.”
Danny’s lips quirked as he grinned. “You want to know what I think you should do about Megan?”
…
She’d kept only one dress, and everyone had seen it before. Megan held out the black lace over cream dress and wondered if it still fit. After a lifetime of struggling to stay within a size of her smaller sisters, she was managing it by the simple task of not eating enough. It made her tired and cranky, but she could probably fit into the designer sample sizes that were sent to her friends in the hopes the celebutantes might be photographed in them. If Jordana really did expect her to show her face at the major events this season, then Megan would need to make nice with some of her old classmates. That, or become the talk of the town by wearing the same tired dress over and over.
She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to parade herself before the benefactors of the city, didn’t have to risk seeing Brandon and Gemma together. He hadn’t tried to contact her in the last two days, but she figured he was just biding his time, waiting for a chance to strike when it would be deadly and not just scarring.
After working at the bar last night and a long shift at the coffee shop this morning, the only thing she wanted was a few hours of sleep. Instead, she’d had to turn down a shift at the bar she couldn’t afford to miss for a party that would last until she had to start brewing coffee in the morning.
Not that she’d stay that long. She’d put in an appearance, let the rumor mill start swirling, and get out long before it could grind her into dust. She’d probably have to do the same thing over and over every weekend until the fundraising party the Saturday before Christmas. Four long weekends of sheer torture. She hoped it would be worth enough to keep the houses running until her sisters could help her think of what to do next.
Talking with them had been an exercise in caution. Ava was so excited about her new business venture and Briana was busy with school, and Megan hadn’t wanted to weigh them down with her issues. She kept her side of the conversation strictly on what she’d been doing with the Carlton Houses, and that they weren’t going to be called that much longer. Both of her sisters thought it was a lovely idea to name them after women who’d helped so many others.
Since her sisters hadn’t balked at the idea, Megan knew she’d reacted to Gemma, not the concept. She resigned herself to changing the names of the centers and hoped that Jordana’s idea to let two big contributors choose names of the remaining homes would bring in the capital they all needed.
Cash scurried about her feet, probably wondering if she’d fallen asleep standing up. He never seemed to know what to do with her while they were in the apartment together. He wanted to play, she wanted to sleep. Megan smiled at his inherent happiness and danced around him for a bit to get her energy going before she changed out of her standard jeans and long sleeve T-shirt for something from her former life.
She’d kept this dress not for itself, but for the stilettos that matched it. They were the most spectacular shoes she’d ever owned, and she hadn’t wanted to part with them when she’d sold everything else to make the deposits on this hovel of an apartment. She wouldn’t miss it a bit when she left.
As soon as she knew the Carlton Houses were stable financially, she was going to head towards one of her sisters and away from Brandon Knight. When she did manage to get any sleep, he was the first thing that drifted into her mind. And he was always naked and willing, and if it weren’t for Cash waking her up, she’d probably have called him by now. She’d thought of using returning the car as an excuse, but she hadn’t trusted herself, and so she was still borrowing it.
The entire predicament really made her feel for her mother. She couldn’t help but wonder why her parents had stuck together now, when a scandal like this would have pulled even the closest of couples apart. She didn’t understand it, but now that she’d personally experienced the pull towards a man who’d burned you so badly the scars might never heal, she could at least empathize. Her sisters weren’t so forgiving.
Megan applied makeup for the first time in weeks and finger combed through her hair, hoping the loose curls looked purposeful. The only mirror in the apartment was barely big enough for her to see her face, so she hoped for the best as she slipped on the dress and heels. If being seen by her former friends was as mortifying as she feared, at least Evie would be with her. Megan had convinced her to come to the symphony soiree because she couldn’t stand the thought of going alone.
She buttoned her coat and scooped up Cash, grabbing her handbag and keys on the way out. She stalled on the stairs when she saw the crowd of teens hovering around her car. She beeped the alarm, which usually had them walking away, but today they stayed, one of them leaning on the trunk. It made Cash bark like crazy as she did her best to ignore them as she climbed in the car, pretending she didn’t hear the coarse words they threw her way.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she locked the doors and drove away. She couldn’t blame them for what they thought, the names they called her. Last week she’d been on a bus, and now she had a car worth more than their families brought home in a year. All because a well-dressed man had shown up on the street a few times. Her eyes stung with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall.
Those boys had a point. In a way, she had traded her body for the car. Bile burned the back of her throat as she drove to the Carlton House to drop off Cash and pick up Evie. If strangers could see what she’d done, would she be able to hide it from those who had known her best?