Chapter Eight
Megan heard the low whistle before she saw Danny Reid turn his wheelchair to get a better look as she tried to slip into the spare bedroom with a minimum of fuss.
“How you doing, darlin’?” Danny had always looked at her like he knew her secrets, and given that he’d been Brandon’s best friend for as long as she’d known him, she figured he actually might.
Brandon stared at her, everything about him seeming relaxed and yet curious. He probably wondered how she would play their first display as more than acquaintances. It actually gave her some relief to know it was Danny. She’d always found his mocking wit playfully refreshing, as well as his blatant honesty.
“Peachy, Danny. How’s your morning?” She tacked on a smile as if she weren’t standing in the middle of the room in only a towel.
“It’s afternoon, sweetheart. You really need to convince this one you can get your own coffee so he doesn’t drag my ass up here for meetings.”
She blinked, her gaze searching out the grandfather clock by the entry. Damn. Two in the afternoon. So much for her day. She turned back to the men. “There’s coffee?”
Brandon stood and crossed the room, pausing to kiss her temple as he walked to the kitchen. “I’ll get it. You get dressed.”
“Not on my account,” Danny said, leaning back in his wheelchair. “I rather enjoy the view.”
Megan blushed, but gave a cute curtsey before rushing out of the room. Danny’s warm laughter filled the room behind her and she started to think that maybe this would work.
She’d assumed everyone would accuse her of using Brandon for his money now that hers had evaporated, but Danny acted as if he were happy she and Brandon were together. Though of course, there was every possibility Danny hadn’t been the least bit surprised to see her and knew what she and Brandon had started long ago.
She slipped into a teal blue sweater-dress that had been a little too clingy last winter. The knit of the material hugged her body, but not in the way that had once annoyed her. She ran her hands over her hips, wondering if Brandon had thought the weight loss was a turn on. She was finally as thin as she’d always wanted to be, but she couldn’t keep it up long term. In fact, instead of feeling svelte and healthy like she’d imagined she would, she felt tired and weak.
Once her world stopped churning, she needed to get her health in order. She didn’t want to see Briana until she felt better. She’d watched her sister battle anorexia all through their teens and knew the lectures that would come if anyone ever found out she’d gone days on only diet cola.
Tossing the unpleasant memory atop the pile of things she didn’t want to think about, Megan grabbed a pair of knee-high black leather boots and carried them into the living room. She set them on the bench by the door where her handbag had ended up last night. The two men were still immersed in business, so she snagged the steaming mug of creamy coffee from the table and gave Brandon’s shoulder a squeeze in thanks.
Their conversation stalled while she was in the room, but picked up again as soon as she entered Brandon’s bedroom. It gave her pause, but she decided not to borrow trouble. She didn’t care what business they were discussing. They’d already managed to take controlling interest in Carlton International and had begun to sell off the subsidiaries. It was only a matter of time until everything was parceled out and she didn’t want to know the gory details.
She wanted to get Brandon alone so they could talk about what she’d seen, about what exactly they wanted to tell people about their relationship. She took her time styling her hair and for the first time in ages did her makeup so that she looked and felt like she used to.
Still, voices blended together in the other room. She didn’t have any more time to wait. If Brandon had more business to take care of, they would just have to talk later.
When she entered the living room, all conversation stopped again. This time the air felt different, charged with something she didn’t want to name. As she neared the table, both Brandon and Danny slid paperwork into folders and closed them.
“Don’t hide everything on my account, unless of course, I’m why you’re putting things away.”
Brandon’s smile was fake, his dark eyes fathomless as she came to stand beside where he sat. “Not at all, we’re just finishing up for the day. Loverboy has a wedding to plan.”
Danny shook his head. “I just have to fly to Vegas and have a good time. She takes care of all the details. You’re both coming, right?”
Megan blinked, a little stunned that Danny had accepted her so readily, enough to invite her to his wedding.
“I wouldn’t miss it. It’s not every day you can marry off your two best friends in one shot.” Brandon grinned, even his eyes smiling this time.
“Well, you did have something to do with that.” Danny slid all of the folders into his briefcase and then snapped it closed before sliding it onto his lap.
“When are you getting married?” Megan’s mind tried to figure out who he would be marrying. Brandon knew lots of people, but Danny was the only one she’d ever considered his best friend.
“New Years Eve.” He looked to Brandon. “We should all fly out together. Maybe you can even talk her into inviting some of her other friends.”
“Gemma doesn’t want it to be an event, just a wedding.” Brandon leaned back in his chair. “I know when my mom finds out she’ll probably want to hold some kind of reception.”
Megan’s pulse thudded in her ears as things clicked into place. She scanned the room, finding her shoes and purse, but Cash’s leash was gone from the table by the door. Brandon must have given him to the pet concierge of the hotel, a move that would send rumors through the hotel grapevine. Everyone would know that she’d been here, been with Brandon. But the waves of impending humiliation at being used and discarded were nothing compared to the tsunami of pain drowning her soul.
She looked at Danny’s smiling face, hating what she’d just realized, hating that he too would soon be mired in the despair of betrayal. “You’re going to marry Gemma Ryan?”
Danny nodded and raised his hands. “I know you two aren’t the best of friends, but—”
“She and Brandon had an affair. Maybe they’re still at it.” Megan stared at Danny, watching his eyes glaze over in shock. She didn’t want to hurt him, but a clean break was better than the slow, strangling end she was experiencing.
“No way,” Danny said, shaking his head.
“Megan, where the hell are you getting this?” Brandon had the decency to look confused.
“I saw you.” Her hands shook as the memory replayed in her mind, an avalanche of misery hurtling towards her. Her throat tightened, but she continued, the words falling out of her mouth in a rush. “I came here for my birthday just like we had planned, hoping you could explain what was going on and figure out what to do next. Happy Birthday to me, I found you in the hall kissing her. I waited, Brandon, I waited for you to push her away, to tell her no, but all you did was open your door and let her in.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, wishing she were better at hiding this particular emotion.
“I can explain.” Brandon stood and reached for her arm, but she shook him off.
“I’m sure you can explain it to me. You’re good at spinning lies. When you bought my family’s company without warning me, I got it loud and clear that business matters more than I do. But he’s your best friend, Brandon. Doesn’t that mean anything to you, either?”
“Is it true?” Danny’s dark tone turned both their heads.
Brandon pressed his lips into a line and shook his head. “Partly, but—”
“There’s no but.” Danny dismissed Brandon with a flick of his hand and started his chair towards the door. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds. We’ve never double dipped before, and I’m not about to start now.”
Brandon followed him to the door, blocking his way. “It’s not like she said.”
“Get out of my way. Don’t be an ass.”
Brandon stepped aside. “Fine, but you have to listen to me.”
“Only for as long as the elevator takes.” Danny wheeled through the door with Brandon two steps behind.
Before the door closed Brandon turned, pointing his finger at her. “You stay right there. You’ve got this wrong.”
The door slammed and Megan shuddered. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight, wishing someone else could hold her. Pushing aside the pity and the panic, she grabbed her handbag and boots, sat down on the bench by the door and zipped them up.
The elevator for the penthouse was dedicated, but she could take the stairs one flight down and catch the regular elevator to the lobby. Still, she had to hurry because she doubted Danny was going to keep Brandon occupied for longer than the elevator ride.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but she’d been living life one step at a time. Last night had simply been a short reprieve after a horribly dark moment. She’d known better than to believe it would last.
She made her way to the door and pulled it open, finding the only person she wanted to see less than Brandon.
His mother.
…
Brandon tore into his penthouse, yelling for Megan. His heart hammered so hard it threatened to leap from his chest. He charged from room to room, knowing he wouldn’t find her but still needing to check. He let out a primal roar of frustration as he lifted her discarded nightgown from the floor.
Just like before, she’d vanished and left all her memories behind. Clothes on the floor, hairbrush on the counter, empty coffee mug on the nightstand, and her scent on his bed. This time he wondered not just if she was coming back, but if he wanted her to.
He’d nearly forgotten that afternoon when Gemma had told him about her stupid plan, too much had been going on with Megan for it to register. It explained her anger, the depths of her sense of betrayal, but nothing excused the way she threw it in Danny’s face.
His Megan was kinder than that, and would have made sure she had her facts straight before sucker punching someone. This creature had no qualms about attempting to ruin someone else’s life with conjecture and assumptions. And she should have known better. Should have known him better than that.
He pulled all the linens off the bed, having learned from experience that it was impossible to sleep in a bed that smelled like Megan without her in it. As he’d followed Danny, he’d known Megan would be gone when he returned. As much as he wanted to explain himself, it was probably for the best. If she were anyone else, he’d throttle her for hurting his friend.
Danny might want him to think marrying Gemma was a game, but Brandon knew there was more to it, on Danny’s side at least. He should have mentioned the awkward kiss and even more awkward proposal, but it hadn’t mattered enough to him to have it register. Danny was the only person he trusted not to take advantage of Gemma, as far too many people had, and so everything had seemed complete. But the devil was in the details, which was what made Danny so important to him in business. They complemented each other, and together had been able to accomplish in a few years what it had taken his father a lifetime to attain.
He didn’t want to lose any part of Danny’s trust, though by the time he drove away, it seemed as if they were on even footing again. Shaky ground, yes, but they had enough of a foundation to build things back.
Megan was another story entirely. It cut him to the quick that she thought so little of him. She’d slapped Danny with what she’d seen, but he’d been stunned by it as well. It was a piece of the puzzle that helped others fit—why he’d become persona non grata with her, the motivation behind the hickey’s she’d left him with a couple weeks back, and even the unmistakable distrust she held between them like a shield.
But understanding it in theory did nothing to help the rage burning within at being accused of something he would never do. If Megan was so certain that he would, that he had, she didn’t know him half as well as he thought. Keeping their relationship a secret had kept it hot, kept it sacred, but maybe it had also kept them from actually knowing one another at all.
…
If Jordana Knight had been surprised to see her in Brandon’s apartment, she took it in stride. As much as Megan wanted to get perspective and distance from Brandon and his web of lies, she didn’t want to risk offending his mother.
For as long as she could remember, Megan had wanted to be Jordana Knight when she grew up. She didn’t know the older woman well, which probably led to the allure, but she had an intelligence and quiet strength that everyone admired. While everyone dismissed her own mother as a party girl who married well, people respected Jordana and what she accomplished for the community. Someday, Megan hoped people thought of her accomplishments the same way, if there ever were any.
“Would you like to come in?” Megan couldn’t help but feel awkward.
“No, I’m meeting someone downstairs. I just wanted to drop off the pass card for the penthouse.”
Megan blinked. “You have a key?” That no one else had access to the penthouse had been a condition of their relationship. Megan didn’t want to risk popping in and finding someone else here.
Jordana motioned to the other penthouse. “Brandon thought we might like it, but I like my house. I’m finally finished renovating and I don’t want to take on a redecorating project. Not with so much to do.”
Megan took the card Jordana held out and slipped it into her purse, her heart rate climbing. She had nowhere else to go, and the apartment that had once belonged to her family might give her enough time to think through a proper solution.
“Since Brandon isn’t here, why don’t you keep me company downstairs for a bit?” She didn’t wait for a response before turning towards the elevator and pressing the button.
Out of respect for the woman and self-preservation, Megan followed. If Brandon was in the elevator when it opened, he would not make a scene in front of his mother. The empty car arrived and Megan breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped inside.
“I’m staying in the guestroom.” She stared straight ahead, catching both her own and Jordana’s reflections in the mirror. “There was a break-in at my apartment, so Brandon put me up for the night.”
The older woman’s perfectly arched brows knit together. “Megan, my son is thirty-one years old. I don’t have any delusions about his virtue.”
“Nor mine it seems.” Megan stood taller, wishing people thought her more than a plaything. “I was just on my way to the police station to see if an officer would escort me to the apartment. They were processing it last night, so I didn’t get to take much with me. Not that there is anything left.” Her voice trailed off as her throat closed. She did her best to shutter her grief, but from the pity in the other woman’s gaze she could tell she’d failed.
“Oh, honey.” Her warm fingers curled around Megan’s arm. “You don’t want to wait for Brandon to go with you?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t want me to go back there, but it’s my mess. I didn’t make it, but I’m responsible for cleaning it up.”
“That’s the story of your life right now, isn’t it?” The doors opened and Jordana released her hold. “Let’s take my meeting quickly and then I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. Any of it.”
Megan followed her into the bar on the mezzanine level. They were seated so quickly Megan barely had time to wonder if Jordana would pull her support when she found out Brandon was no longer interested. There might not be much hope for the future of the Carlton Houses without her influence. It wasn’t enough of a reason to stay with Brandon, but it would be something she’d regret.
“When was the last time you ate?”
Megan tacked on a smile and toyed with the silverware, trying to get it perfectly spaced. “I’m fine.”
“You know, your mother always said you were the one she didn’t have to worry about. But I see you struggling to hold it all together and I wonder if maybe she should have.”
“My sisters kept her plenty busy.” Megan’s nerves calmed at the opportunity to bring the conversation back to neutral territory. “And so did looking after the Carlton Houses. It’s amazing how much time it can take to steer things in the right direction.”
A waitress stepped to the table and took Jordana’s order for hot apple cider and cookies. Megan hoped the rumble from her stomach in response wasn’t actually audible. When they were alone again, Jordana folded her hand in front of her on the table.
“How is your mother?”
“Fine, I hope.” Adrenaline jolted through Megan’s veins. Was this not a chance meeting, but a way to milk her for information? She met the older woman’s gaze and saw nothing but sincerity.
“You haven’t spoken to her?”
Megan shook her head and wetness filling her eyes until she closed them to stem the flow. “I hate this. You have been nothing but nice to me, and yet I’m wondering why you’re being kind, why you’re asking about my mother.”
“She was my friend. We weren’t terribly close, but I have been concerned about her.” Megan felt Jordana’s fingers wrap around her own and clenched her jaw.
“None of us have heard from either of them.” She opened her eyes and sniffled, trying to regain her composure. “Every time I think I’ve had the worst day of my life, another pops up and takes its place.”
“I know that feeling.” She tilted her head, her platinum hair brushing her shoulder. The waitress returned and Jordana pulled her hand away to take her mug. Megan did the same, letting the spiced cider warm her from the inside out.
“If you hear anything from her,” Jordana put her cup down, “I’d like to know that she’s okay.”
“So would I.” Megan’s cup rattled as she set it on the table, her head starting to throb as she wondered when that might be. She had a sneaking suspicion that Brandon’s meeting with Danny this morning had something to do with finding the Carlton money. Danny had been a Special Forces operative and was key to the information gathering piece of Brandon’s business. If he couldn’t find her parents, her chances were slim.
“Sorry I’m late.” Gemma Ryan’s voice trilled through the nearly empty bar. “There is so much planning to do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it all together.”
The leggy blonde swept in, kissing Jordana on the cheek and giving Megan an annoyed look. Something clicked in Megan, like sights focusing on a target. Most of her anger and frustrations didn’t have a mark, but her jealousy had one very definitive point.
“Why are you in such a rush to get married?” Megan asked, her pulse racing. “Did you get knocked up?”
Gemma gasped. “I was talking about the Alzheimer’s benefit. My marriage is none of your business.”
Jordana blanched. “Girls, what is going on with you two? And Gemma, since when are you getting married?”
“Go on, Gemma. I’d love to hear how your stories match up.” She stared at her, watching Gemma’s chin start to tremble and getting no small satisfaction out of it when she turned away.
“Danny and I are going to elope in Las Vegas next month.”
“Elope?” Jordana asked. “What’s the rush? You don’t want to miss out on having a wedding.”
“We want to be married, not engaged,” Gemma replied.
“Are you sure?” Megan taunted. “He didn’t seem so keen on the idea earlier.”
Gemma’s head jerked around. “What did you do?”
“Nothing I feel even remotely guilty for. Can you say the same thing?” She felt horrible for having to be the bearer of bad news to Danny, but not guilty. He needed to know his world had been turned around by his best friend and his fiancée. At least Brandon had betrayed her with someone she hardly knew. She glared at the bottle blonde, wishing she would disappear and stop hurting people with her selfishness.
“Me?” Gemma placed a hand on her chest. “You are a horrible person. I don’t know why Brandon feels the need to help you, but you need to leave Daniel alone.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem for either of us. Knowing what I know, and knowing what you did, I think we’re the last people he wants to see.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Megan shrugged. “Danny and I see it differently.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Gemma’s phone rang in her purse.
“Go on, you’ll want to take that. Like I said, you’ll want to get your stories straight.”
“I think you lost your mind with your manners and your money.” Gemma dug into her purse and came out with a rhinestone-studded phone. “It’s Brandon. I’m going to tell him how obnoxious you are. Then he will stop feeling so sorry for you and you can disappear like your parents.”
Megan only just managed to hold back the urge to hurtle her mug at the back of the twit’s head as she retreated. She had to get out of this town because if she ever saw Brandon kissing that tramp again, she’d wind up hurting them both.