The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset

by A. M. Hargrove

  He drops his head back on the sofa and I think maybe it’s my cue to get off his lap, but I’m wrong.

  “Don’t go. I need you here.”

  “Okay. I’m not going anywhere,” I say.

  “Maybe Cate is right by leaving. Drew is everywhere in this town. I don’t want to forget him, but it fucking hurts to remember he’s gone. And I’m sorry if I keep dumping on you. It’s just until you, no one has understood except Cate, and I’m supposed to be strong for her. So I keep some things to myself.”

  “I’m here whenever you need me. I’ve never been through losing my best friend, but I get it.”

  “Thanks. Your being here helps more than you know.”

  I rearrange his disheveled hair. “I wish there was more I could do.”

  What an awful burden to keep to yourself. I don’t verbalize this thought, but so many things start to fall into place with him.

  “Any time you need to talk, Ben, I’m willing to listen.”

  He rewards me with a kiss.

  After eating around the very charred parts of the chicken, which Ben apologizes for profusely, we decide to shelve the ice cream and save it for some other time. Instead, we end up watching a movie. It was one of the Fast and Furious ones, but we both fall asleep during the thing. I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, in Ben’s bed, realizing he must’ve carried me up here.

  In the morning, a sheepish Ben apologizes again for the way the night turned out and tells me he wants to make it up to me in the form of a nice dinner as soon as both of our schedules allow.

  “Last night happened to be about comfort and support. Sometimes that’s what we need.” I lift up my shirt and say, “Besides, look at this. Does this look like someone in need of more food? It looks like I swallowed a watermelon.”

  Ben tumbles me into his lap and cups my breast. “You do not. It’s more like a cantaloupe.”

  “Ahh! You’re terrible. I’m not talking about my tits. I’m talking about my gut.” I swat his hands away, but not before he squeezes them a few times.

  “Why? Your body is fine, your tits are amazing.”

  I rub my stomach, and it does resemble a cantaloupe. “I need a diet.”

  “Don’t you dare. I want you the way you are, soft with curves like a woman should be.”

  Well, at least he likes a woman with a Buddha belly. Reluctantly, we leave the bed so we can both go to work. That night when I get home at almost nine, Lauren is back from the beach and all over me for information about Ben.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t called us! The gang is pissed off at you.” She jabs a finger at me. Her accusation is loud and clear. Between her job and mine, I hadn’t seen her until today.

  “I was with him all weekend. There wasn’t time. We’ve both been busy the last couple of days. And I spent the night at his place.”

  “If the shoe were on the other foot, you would’ve killed me.”

  “Okay. Dinner, tomorrow night at our usual spot. All the girls and I’ll fill you in.”

  I know she wants to hear first but I can’t stay awake any longer.

  The next day turns out to be a killer work day. As I walk into the restaurant that evening to face my cross-examining besties, they all wave at me. Talk about eager. Usually I’m one of the first to arrive, and I’m not even late.

  “So?” they all chime in on the big Ben question.

  “I’ll save you the trouble of asking any questions. He’s amazing in every sense of the word.”

  “Ah, I’m so jealous,” Berkeley says. “I knew he could change and be worth it.”

  “Me too.” Carrie speaks out.

  “I want John to act like that,” says Hayley.

  “I hate to be the naysayer here, but do you think he’ll go back to being dickfaced Ben? I mean, I want him to be your knight, but I don’t want you to get hurt either. And it sounds like your heart is involved now,” says Lauren.

  “Just listen to this.” And I give them a blow by blow of the corporate party and just about everything afterward. I don’t give them the details about his friend, Drew. I hold that back, thinking it’s too personal to share. Maybe someday, but not today. I skim over it saying his best friend died of cancer.

  “You’re making him sound like gold, and not the plating kind, which is surprising considering his reputation,” Lauren says.

  “I think so. I get this super good vibe around him. He’s just so … oh, I don’t know. Caring might be a good word.”

  As we sit, the waiter comes up with two bottles of wine. “Would you ladies prefer white or red this evening?”

  We all blurt out, “White.”

  I don’t remember ordering any wine. So I pose that question and he grins as he pops the corks and pours. “This is courtesy of Ben Rhoades. Enjoy, ladies.”

  They all look at me in appreciation.

  “Well, this is a nice surprise. He’s stepping up his game. Have you not had sex with the man yet?” Lauren asks.

  Everyone laughs and looks at me until Berkeley breaks in. “Well? Is this you dragging him along and him begging, Sam?”

  “No! I mean, yes.” I lean in and whisper, “We’ve done it, and the man lives up to the god label I gave him.”

  “Well, then, I like him more and more.” Berkeley laughs and says, “Cheers!” She raises her glass and we all clink ours together.

  Lauren adds, “Just be cautious, though. Remember, there are those manslut rumors. I don’t want my bestie getting hurt.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” And I feel my words are the truth when I say them. With a huge grin, I text Ben and thank him profusely for the wine.

  He answers with: I’m sure I’ll think of a way for you to thank me! Enjoy and come over after if you can.

  It puts a silly grin on my face that stays there for a long time.

  I have to admit, Ben Rhoades is a tough act to keep my mind off of. Even though I’m running ragged at work, he still manages to keep me smiling. Jenna and I talk several times, planning the anniversary party for his parents, which is coming up this weekend. Ben hasn’t been very involved, saying he’s leaving all the decisions up to us. Personally, I’m positive this stuff bores him. The glazed look in his eyes is the dead giveaway.

  My usually energetic self is dragging lately, but I only have my sex god to blame for that. He keeps me too sleep deprived, but I won’t complain.

  Friday morning, the day before the Rhoades’s anniversary party, I’m at work checking my email, when something pops up. I get a notice from a caterer for the next evening regarding an event that isn’t on my calendar. I’m sure I don’t have anything booked because I’m attending the Rhoades’s party, so I make a phone call and the caterer sends me the email with all the details and the correspondence. It has Nick’s name on it. I call Nick into my office to see if he knows anything about it.

  “Yeah, I booked it.”

  “But the Rhoades’s anniversary dinner is that night at Margie’s downtown. How am I supposed to be in two places at once? And since when do you book events without clearing them with me first?”

  His mouth opens and closes, like a guppy desperate for air. “I … I thought Rhoades was Ben.”

  Anger diffuses through me and I ball my hands into fists. It takes every ounce of control not to take a swing at him. “You what? You looked at the calendar and assumed it was a date? And even so, that’s still taking it upon yourself to book an event without clearing it with me. One, I don’t even know this client, and two, I don’t even know how to respond to this.”

  Nick rubs his forehead. “It’s a rehearsal dinner.”

  Now I’m even more furious, if that’s possible. “A rehearsal dinner? For a wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  I want to throw something. If I could pick him up, I’d toss him out the window. “Damn it, Nick! You know good and well we don’t do these types of events. Our focus is corporate, not wedding or social functions. What in the name of heaven were you thinking?�
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  The guilty look on his face tells me more than I care to know.

  “Say it. I want you to say it to my face.”

  His face flushes crimson as his eyes darken. “You’re doing an anniversary dinner. And to be honest, I wanted to keep you away from him.” His tone has become accusatory. I don’t like it one bit.

  “The anniversary party is a favor, not a job, not that I need to explain that to you. And now I can’t attend because you’ve booked this rehearsal party.” I want to add, You giant fucking turd face, at the end, but my manners force me to refrain and am way proud of myself for doing so. “And haven’t we already discussed that Ben is none of your business?” I don’t give him time to answer before I launch into the event he booked. “You are working all these details out yourself for the rehearsal party. And it better go without a hitch. I’m forwarding you the email from the caterer and you’re on your own on this. In the future, everything goes through me. Am I clear?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaves my office and I immediately call Ben.

  “Hey gorgeous. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to attend the anniversary party tomorrow. I’ll be working another function.”

  “What?”

  After I explain, he curses up a shitstorm.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What are you going to do about Nick the Dick?”

  I tell him how our conversation went.

  “Not as severe as I would’ve proposed, but it’s your business and you’re the boss. So I respect that.”

  “Out of curiosity, what exactly would you have proposed?” I ask.

  “Oh, that’s easy. I would love it if you’d fired him. Then I could’ve beaten the shit out of him. Drew did always say I needed to simmer down a bit.”

  In my silence, he finally adds, “Don’t worry, Sam. I won’t touch little Nick the Dick. He’s safe for now.”

  Twenty-Three

  BEN

  Everything is perfect just like Sam. I really hate she can’t be here to get the praise for pulling everything off in such a short period of time, especially during the wedding season in Charleston. It’s nothing short of a miracle. I still want to kick that Nick’s ass though.

  “What’s going on with you?” Jenna asks resting a hand on my shoulder.

  “Nothing. How about you? It’s strange not having Cate here.”

  Her smile fades and I know how she feels. It’ll be odd not having Cate living in Charleston. I can’t remember a time Jenna and Cate were separated. They’ve done everything together including attending the same college.

  “She’s looking for an apartment. And because her new job assignment starts in a few weeks and she has to work here until then, she wanted to get out of town.”

  I pull her in a hug. “Where’s Kenneth or did you bring Brandon?”

  She narrows her eyes at me before she punches my arm. “Don’t say that so loud. You know damn well who I brought.”

  This is true. Kenneth is everything my dad wants for his princess. His words not mine. “You’re going to end up an old woman alone. He’s the kind of guy that trades out his wives every few years for a newer model.”

  “You are so mean.” She punches me again.

  “God, you’ve turned violent.”

  Rolling her eyes, she says, “And I wanted to tell you I really like Sam. She was amazing to work with. Maybe she’ll be my new best friend.”

  Before I can respond, Kenneth shows up. And for a second I think of Horace and all the things he said at the pool party. I wonder if he ever found his friend.

  “Ben, how are things in the investment business?” Kenneth asks.

  “Couldn’t be better. And you, how are things on the hill?”

  Kenneth, dry as toast, just shrugs. “Not bad at all.”

  “Excuse me,” I say when a vision of pure beauty rushes in the door.

  She searches the room as I head towards her.

  When she spots me, her face lights up. “Ben.”

  “You were able to come after all,” I say, drawing her close. I’m obsessed with touching her. It has to be because when she’s near, the world quiets and all the shit that’s plagued me the whole day disappears.

  “I did. There was no way I would miss this. So, I left everything in Nick’s hands after all the major stuff happened.” She smiles.

  I capture her face in my hands and kiss her like we are the only two people in the room.

  She pulls back, her hands covering mine. “Ben.”

  Her face the color of a ripe tomato, I know I’m lost for her. And that’s the only four-letter L word I can mutter yet. But it’s a word I’ve never been able to use with anyone else.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  I finally let go and straighten to my normal height. Some people are looking, but I don’t care.

  Then my sister is tapping her wine glass with a fork. Time for the reveal of our present, and it turns out better than expected. Jenna does a good job of manipulating Dad in front of everyone to admitting he hadn’t taken Mom on a vacation in over a decade. Mom cries about how she’s wanted to go to Italy forever. I can only hope Dad doesn’t somehow figure a way out of the month-long trip to tour all over the country.

  For my speech, I piggy back on Jenna and give honors to her and Sam for a great party. When I take her home that night, I show her how much it meant to me for her to help us pull this off, paying her back in too many orgasms to count.

  Monday, bright and early, Dad’s at my door.

  “This isn’t the best time for me to leave. But I’m pretty sure you know that. With that said, don’t fuck things up while I’m gone.”

  I do know that, but I won’t admit it. “I can handle it.”

  “I’m counting on you,” he commands as if he’s sending me out into combat. And maybe he is. If I don’t win this battle, I will lose the war.

  After Dad leaves at noon, almost immediately it seems like the shit hits the fan.

  Mark steps in my office a few hours later. He and his ex are apparently giving it another go. She’d been at the company weekend event and I did my best not to say anything. He has to live with her, not me.

  “What did she do now?” I ask automatically.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. But we may have a problem.”

  “We?”

  He reaches across my desk to hand me a paper and my world spins out of control.

  “Who’s seen this?”

  “Just me, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  I read it again. It’s a letter from a large global mutual fund company. It basically says that they invested with the hedge fund that made headlines for being a fake and stealing people’s money. The problem is we’d just sent out letters claiming that we’d made no investments in that hedge fund. And technically we hadn’t. However, indirectly we had, since we invested with this mutual fund who had in fact invested in the bad hedge fund. That made us indirect investors in that company too, which contradicted our letter. Fuck.

  As if on cue, my door opens and a familiar face saunters in and my hackles rise.

  “Guess what I received today. A letter from your firm and one from my mutual fund company.”

  Mark pales. I wave him off. “It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

  “Your dad?”

  I’m a little annoyed he doesn’t have confidence that I can take care of things.

  “He’s on a plane. I’ve got this. Get with Jeff and start compiling a list of investors.” I wonder how Dad hadn’t researched this more thoroughly before making a blanket statement. But the woman in my office demands my attention.

  “Ms. Spencer, what can I do for you?” I hide my aggravation at her showing up at my office. I’d hoped that she’d disappeared for good.

  She takes a seat and crosses her legs as if to draw my attention to them
. But I keep my eyes on hers.

  “It’s Ms. Spencer now?”

  “I prefer to keep things professional.”

  Her eyes brighten. “I know just how professional. Like how you like to spank me when I’m bad.”

  I close my eyes, not believing that she’d go there.

  “Does your girlfriend know how you like to play rough sometimes?”

  Her exaggeration of things pisses me off. I manage to ignore her words and say, “Why are you here?” Even though I know damn well.

  “See, I don’t like to keep my money all in one place. So I have my future retirement accounts with this mutual fund company and they sent me this.”

  The letter is a replica of the one Mark just showed me. The mutual fund company will send it to all investors eventually. Which means we need to craft a response and fast. I don’t have time for this extra bullshit.

  “I can go to the press. Hell, I’m a lawyer. I can sue you for misrepresentation. I could have the SEC all over your ass.”

  The idea of the governing body for corporations and investment companies coming in like the IRS and auditing us makes me shudder.

  Words like we didn’t directly invest in that company so technically that’s not true won’t do me any good against a lawyer. So I cut to the chase.

  “What do you want?”

  “Dinner.”

  I don’t quite believe her. My brow lifts in question.

  “Dinner tonight, my place, and we can talk this all out.”

  “I’m going to be busy with everything going on around here.”

  “Dinner at eight. Be there, or I’ll see you in court.”

  She gets up and makes a show of bending down to pick up her purse as if her ass would capture my attention. It doesn’t. I glance at my screen and set up an all hands on deck meeting. When she finally leaves my office, I push my hair back before picking up my phone.

  “Sam,” I say when she answers.

  “Hey, are we seeing each other tonight?”

  “No, not exactly.” I sigh. This is the part I dread. “I have to have dinner with a client.”