Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll speak to him.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t need to. I told him he better get used to me because I’ve been poking holes in our condoms for weeks, and it’s only a matter of time before he has a grandchild to deal with.”

  His booming laugh drew the attention of guests nearby. “Are you ready to go?” Aiden asked, lifting his fingers to toy with one of her earrings.

  “God, yes. My feet hurt, and if one more idiot tries to get to you through me, I’m going to break a bottle of Cristal over their smug face.”

  “Give me a head’s up so I can have my attorney on call.”

  “Why can’t people just talk to you and ask you for shit?” Frankie muttered.

  “Because I’m very powerful and intimidating. And because they see that you have influence over me.”

  “Can I influence you to pick up some Thai food on the way home?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Was it a blood bath?” Oscar asked, handing Aiden a bottle of headache meds as he passed his desk.

  “Worse,” Aiden said, fighting the pain that bloomed behind his eyes. Worthington Financial, an accounting consulting firm, hadn’t taken his CIO candidate search criteria seriously and had presented him with the same old, white guys. It had pissed him off enough that Aiden pulled a team off of the sale they were neck-deep in so they could dissect the corporate structure.

  With a little digging and some precisely applied pressure, Aiden discovered a rotting culture of harassment and misogynistic behavior. He’d fired seven of the company’s top managers within half an hour. With the newly departeds’ threats of lawsuits still echoing in his ears, Aiden had called a company-wide meeting and announced an immediate restructuring. Two administrative assistants had burst into tears while thanking him. And a junior vice president—exactly the kind of person he wanted for chief information officer—rescinded the resignation that she’d tendered two days ago.

  He ordered an independent HR consultant into the wreckage to deal with the internal fallout and warned Kilbourn Holdings lawyers that there was a situation.

  “Sacked them all?” Oscar asked. The man loved two things in life. His partner Lewis and juicy corporate gossip.

  “Most of them.” Aiden noted the time on his watch. His two afternoon meetings had been juggled into a hasty conference in the car and a late dinner, during which his headache prevented him from eating anything. “It’s late. You should go before Lewis comes looking for you.”

  “I’m meeting him for drinks to celebrate another week of his mother not moving in with us.” Oscar pulled his coat from the rack and slid into it. “Don’t work too late,” he reminded Aiden. “I’m sure there’s a Brooklyn girl waiting for you somewhere.”

  Just the thought of Frankie lifted Aiden’s spirits. She had a catering gig tonight. One of her last, so they wouldn’t see each other. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t call her.

  “Go home, Oscar,” he said again. “And first thing in the morning, you can help start the search for all new senior management. Maybe we can cherry-pick from our own backyard first.”

  “Of course. I’ll also be happy to make sure the ones you sacked are unemployable anywhere else.”

  “You’re a mean Frenchman, aren’t you?” Aiden said, with a weak smile.

  “The meanest.”

  Aiden watched Oscar saunter toward the elevators. The rest of the offices were dark. It was nearly nine, and Aiden still had a few hours of work to catch up on. If he could get ahead of the headache… and stop thinking about the events of the day.

  Two of the men had cried when he’d pulled the trigger. None were innocent, but there was something unsatisfying about punishing someone who felt like a victim.

  “I have two kids in college,” one had pleaded.

  “Then you shouldn’t have ordered HR to ignore the complaints against you and your colleagues,” Aiden had said briskly. He was efficient and cold. Merciless. It was more intimidating that way when he treated people like gnats who mattered too little to bother getting angry over.

  On the inside, he was anything but cold. These men had created a work environment so hostile that it was a wonder they had any employees left.

  It was the right decision. Perhaps a bit abrupt, but it would set the tone for the coming year. They were a new acquisition, and this was the fastest way to send the message that Kilbourn Holdings would not tolerate anything less than equality, anything other than fairness.

  Having to defend his decision to his father on the phone hadn’t helped.

  Ferris agreed that “something” should have been done, just not now and certainly not by making such a statement. “We’re already dealing with enough transition,” he’d argued. “I don’t see why you would have taken on a project of this magnitude that will only take your attention away from more important things.”

  In other words, Ferris felt like the women should have toughed it out a little longer, at least until he was on his boat smoking a cigar without a care in sight.

  Aiden not-so-respectfully disagreed and said as much.

  He wanted to go home. Scratch that. He wanted to go to Franchesca’s and lay next to her in bed until everything felt right again.

  “Well, if it isn’t my all-work-and-no-play brother,” Elliot said snidely from Aiden’s doorway.

  And just like that, Aiden’s night got worse.

  “Look who stopped avoiding my calls.” Since their father had made his decision to step down, Aiden had been trying to schedule a meeting with Elliot. And, until tonight, his half-brother had been avoiding him.

  He was dressed for going out. A blazer with velvet lapels and a jaunty plaid bow tie. He looked like an overindulged idiot.

  Elliot brushed a speck of lint from his shoulder. “Sorry, boss. I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what, exactly?” Ferris had allowed Elliot to hold a title and kept an office available to him should his brother show any signs of interest in the business.

  Elliot slunk into the chair in front of Aiden’s desk and propped his shiny loafers on the surface. “A little of this. A little of that.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase. From now on, you’re required to be a contributing member of this family, of this business.”

  Elliot sneered at him. “You want more work out of me? I want a bigger office and an assistant. I want to have a say in operations.”

  Aiden remained impassive. “You earn those things by proving yourself. Not by having the right last name.”

  “Fine. Then buy me out.” Elliot crossed his arms smugly. He named a figure that was far too precise to have come from thin air. “That’s the price to get me out of your hair.”

  “That is not an option.” As much as Aiden would love to write the bastard a check right here and now, he’d promised his father a year. An entire year to give Elliot the chance to prove himself and fail.

  “Then I’ll sell them to someone else.”

  Aiden stared his brother down. “You’d better think long and hard before you do anything irreversible. Kilbourns hold the majority. If you sell off your percentage, that would no longer be the case. It would put the company at risk.”

  Elliot shrugged, but Aiden saw the beads of sweat on his forehead. Elliot was many things, most of them terrible and offensive, but his desire to be recognized as a valuable Kilbourn came first at all times. If something had him scared enough to sell off his only piece of the pie, it must be quite the threat indeed. It made Aiden almost curious enough to start digging.

  “If you want to continue to see a paycheck, you’re going to have to do something to earn it. I don’t care if that means you’re making coffee in the breakroom or you’re emptying trashcans in the conference room. You will contribute, or you won’t have a place here.”

  “You’ve been dying to get rid of me since I was born,” Elliot whined. “Now’s your chance.”

  “One year. You know where this company is going. What the fu
ture looks like. You’d be an idiot to sell now.”

  “Some of us don’t have a choice,” Elliot hissed, he dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “Some of us were never the favorite. Some of us had to settle for scraps. And some of us do what we have to in order to survive.”

  “You’ve been handed everything you ever wanted,” Aiden pointed out.

  “Not everything. And the rest was never enough. So you’re going to buy me out, or I’m going to that pretty little girlfriend of yours and tell her exactly why your friend Chip broke her best friend’s heart all those years ago.”

  Aiden stilled in his seat. “What makes you think I had anything to do with that?”

  Elliot sneered. “You’ve been ignoring my existence my entire life. I overheard a lot of things in that house.”

  Aiden’s hand tightened on the pen, but he kept his face impassive, disinterested.

  “Do you really think that information would have any effect on my relationship with Franchesca now? If you’ll recall, Chip and Pruitt are happily married now. No thanks to you.”

  “Ah, but imagine how Franchesca would feel knowing that you were the reason her best friend in the whole world was nearly hospitalized? There were plenty of rumors back then about how hard she took the breakup. Chip didn’t know what you were doing, but I did. I recognize manipulation when I see it. How do you think he would feel knowing you orchestrated his breakup?”

  “You have nothing. I’m offering you the chance to finally be a real part of this company.” Aiden kept his words clipped.

  “You have a week to decide. Buy me out, or I’m spilling your dirty little secrets to Franchesca.” With that, Elliot stormed from Aiden’s office in a fit of temper.

  And now Aiden’s headache was full blown. He glanced at the blinking voicemail indicator, at the dozens of new messages in his inbox, at the neat stack of contracts awaiting his signature and rose.

  By the time he got there, Frankie would likely be getting home. He wanted her. Needed her. He called his car service. “We’re going to Brooklyn.”

  * * *

  Aiden closed his eyes in the car and let the dark and the quiet relax him. By the time he got to Frankie’s front steps, it was ten, and he just wanted to lay down on that big bed, wrap his arms around her and sleep.

  He pressed the buzzer for Frankie’s apartment and wasn’t surprised at the lack of response. He pressed the buzzer for Mrs. Gurgevich in 2A.

  “Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Gurgevich,” Aiden said when she answered. The world was spinning in halos and nauseating visual disturbances around him.

  “That girl hasn’t given you a key yet?” she grumbled.

  “Not yet, ma’am.”

  “Have you tried flowers?” she suggested through the crackle of the speaker.

  “I’ll try that,” he agreed.

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.” She buzzed him inside, and Aiden trudged up the three flights of stairs praying that his head didn’t fall from his shoulders. He’d sit in the hallway and wait for her. He should have texted her, but part of him wanted to test her. Would she be happy to see him? Annoyed? He needed to know before he went any farther. He could feel himself getting pulled into her. And he needed to know exactly how far she was comfortable going before he could give any more pieces of himself.

  The door across the hallway cracked open. “Oh, it’s you. I thought it was Mr. McMitchem down the hall stealing my paper,” Mrs. Chu said, glancing down to make sure her decoy newspaper was still there.

  Aiden caught a glimpse of pink house coat and plush puppy slipper through the crack in the door.

  “Sorry for startling you, Mrs. Chu. I’m just waiting for Franchesca—ah, Frankie—to get home.”

  “If you’re lurking out here, Mr. McMitchem will get scared off. Here.” She disappeared for a moment and then returned, shoving a key at him. “We have a spare.”

  He needed to get Franchesca into a building with better security. Her neighbors would happily welcome an AK-47 wielding bank robbery suspect inside.

  But it would be more comfortable than sitting in the hall. He unlocked the door, returned the key, and went inside.

  He was always struck by the contrast between his home and Frankie’s. Hers screamed lived in, if somewhat messily. There were dishes in the sink, mail on the table, and a lump of clean laundry on the floor just outside the kitchen as if she’d dug through the basket in search of a particular piece in a hurry.

  With a ridiculous amount of gratitude, he noted she’d washed a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. He changed out of his suit, thought about raiding her cabinets, and decided his headache would be better off with rest over food. He lay down on the couch and tried to put his brain to work on the problem at hand. He knew how it would go if Frankie knew what he’d done. How he’d pushed Chip into breaking up with Pruitt. And from comments Frankie had made, the breakup had been devastating to Pruitt.

  How was he going to fix it all? It was his last thought as the dark and the quiet enveloped him.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  He was sprawled on her couch, a pillow over his face, his t-shirt showing a sexy peek of abs above the low waistband of his sweatpants.

  Frankie would have screamed when she walked through her front door, but there was no mistaking that gorgeous, god-like body for some stranger who broke in to rob and rape her. Aiden Kilbourn was her mysterious guest, and judging by his bleary eyes, he wasn’t here for sex.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  He winced at the light and closed his eyes again. “Hi,” he said, his voice raspy. “What time is it?”

  “Not quite 11.”

  “Sorry for breaking in.”

  “Seeing as how my door’s still intact, I imagine Mrs. Chu let you in,” Frankie said, brushing her fingers through his thick dark hair.

  “You need better security.” He nuzzled his cheek against her hand, and Frankie melted on the inside.

  “Headache?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hang in there, tough guy.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and headed into the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water and two caplets. “I don’t have any of Pru’s good prescription stuff, but this is over-the-counter.”

  He worked his way into a seated position, and she could see that it pained him.

  “How was your night?” he asked her, downing the pills and water.

  His hair was disheveled from sleep, the ends curled softly at his neck. How was it that arrogant and demanding Aiden could make her blood sing, but vulnerable, sweet Aiden turned her cold steely heart to mush?

  “It was fine,” she lied. It hadn’t been fine. It had been a pain in the ass. And a bit of a culture shock to go from attending a huge charity function one week to working one the next. She felt as if she didn’t belong in either place now.

  Perhaps she was two people too. Franchesca the entrepreneur’s girlfriend and Frankie the grad student from Brooklyn who sprinkled the f-bomb like fairy dust.

  “How was your day?”

  He pressed his fingers to his eyes, but she could still see the grimace.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She took his empty glass back to the kitchen and opened a can of Coke.

  “I do. That’s why I came here.” Now he sounded just the slightest bit surly, and she found it endearing.

  She handed the can over. “Here. Let’s double up on the caffeine.”

  “Thanks,” he murmured.

  “Come on,” she said, gently tugging on his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To bed.”

  “I don’t know how well I’ll perform—”

  “To sleep, Aide. Just to sleep. I promise not to jump your bones until you feel better.”

  “Oh.”

  She led him into the bedroom and tucked him in on his side of the big king bed. His side. He had a side in her bed,
a drawer in her bathroom, and it was probably time he had a key too instead of depending on the kindness/nosiness of her neighbors.

  Frankie brushed a kiss to his forehead. When she tried to move away, he grabbed her hand. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Honey, I’m going to change and then I’m coming to bed.”

  “You’re probably not tired yet.”

  She wasn’t. After running around like a fool for four hours feeding rude people and cleaning up their messes she was usually a little revved.

  “I’m going to read in bed, right next to you.”

  “Okay.” He pressed his face into his pillow.

  God damn it. Vulnerable, needy Aiden was still sexy as fuck and all she wanted to do was bundle him up in a quilt and baby him until he felt better. It was making her feel weird in her chest area. Warm and… happy. She didn’t like it.

  She took her time brushing her teeth and washing her face. When she came back into the bedroom in search of pajamas, he was asleep, a pillow pulled over his head.

  Poor indestructible Aiden had found his limit. It must have been a very rough day indeed. She’d caught peeks at his work calendar before. He was scheduled down to the minute on most days. Aiden Kilbourn got more done before ten than most people did all day—hell, all week. But she recognized a pattern.

  Work was his life, and he pushed until he burned out, and then he got back up and pushed some more.

  She could admire that kind of dedication, Frankie thought as she pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets. She settled back against the pillows with her eReader.

  It was something they had in common. Sure, his work life involved him running a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate. Her work life was two part-time jobs and grad school. But still, they both had their eyes on the prize, and neither would stop at anything. Him: world domination or the corporate equivalent. Her: a master’s degree and a financially secure future.

  It was funny how similar two people from opposite sides of the tracks could be.