Dangerous Engagement

by Charlotte Byrd

  Henry and I talk for a long time, going in circles for most of it. He keeps insisting that it's just one more project, but that’s the same thing I’ve heard for the last few months.

  A big part of me feels ridiculous asking him to take time off work just to be with me, but another part of me thinks that I deserve a boyfriend who wants to spend time with me.

  When I feel our conversation coming to an end, we are no closer to resolving what we have been talking about.

  “So, what do you think?” he asks. “Will you come live with me here?”

  “In Kentucky?" I ask.

  “Yes, of course. Just for the time being. I mean, it's not like you're working right now.”

  “Yeah, no, I can’t," I say.

  “Why not?"

  Because I have to figure out what is going on with my parents’ business and why they're asking me to marry your boss, I want to say. But of course, I don't.

  “The thing is that Tate Media is having a few issues,” I say slowly.

  “Okay. But what does that have to do with you? I thought that you had no interest in running it?”

  “That doesn't mean that it doesn’t concern me. And it doesn't mean that I don't want to help my parents.”

  “It's something that we're all going through," I say. “I thought that you would understand that.”

  “No, I do understand that. I understand that I have waited for you to finish your PhD so that you could have some time off and actually spend it with me. But instead, you're going to stay in New York and do who knows what.”

  “Why are you getting so angry?” I ask.

  "Because I don't understand what's going on with us," Henry snaps. “I love you and you don't seem to care at all.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Of course I care. I love you, too. But they have reached out to me and told me that they're having a lot of problems and they have never said that to me before. And I can't just ignore it.”

  “Whatever," Henry says, shaking his head.

  He puts the phone down so that all that I can see is the ceiling.

  “Henry! Henry? Please, come back to me.”

  “What?” he asks after a little bit. "What do you want?"

  “I want to talk to you.”

  "No, you don’t," he says, picking up the phone and staring straight at me. “I want to spend time with you and I want you to be here with me. What do you want?”

  I want to be there with you, too, I say silently to myself.

  “I need you to give me some time,” I say out loud. “I just found out that they're having problems. Last night, in fact.”

  "It's just their way of manipulating you, Aurora. Can't you see that? They don't want you to be with me and they gave me this job to drive us apart. I'm thankful for it, but I know exactly what they're doing. They're just pretending to be okay with us and hoping that the distance will break us.”

  “Well, don't let it!"

  “I'm trying not to, but you're not trying hard enough,” he says.

  This makes me angry. My cheeks get flushed and my hands form into fists.

  “You have no idea what you're talking about,” I say, furrowing my brows. “You don't know the first thing about what’s going on here.”

  “So why don't you tell me?” he asks.

  “I can't. I don't even know what's going on here. But if you want to know, I suggest that you come back here and stand by my side.”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. "I'm done.”

  My blood runs cold.

  "What are you talking about?" I ask.

  He looks dead into my eyes and doesn't blink.

  “I'm done,” he says coldly.

  “No…” I whisper.

  “I can't handle this anymore,” he says. “I'm just so tired of fighting and arguing and everything else that we have been doing besides just enjoying one another. Relationships are not supposed to be this hard.”

  “Sometimes,” I say with my voice breaking. “Sometimes, you have to fight for them. You have to go through the hard bits to get to the good parts.”

  “Well, I've been doing that enough and I don't have the energy anymore, Aurora.”

  27

  Aurora

  At first, I don't hear back from Henry for the whole day. It's as the longest day of my life and time feels like it's completely standing still. I keep waiting for him to call me, to apologize for what he said, but he doesn't. The following day, I give up on waiting and call him instead. He doesn't answer and again I wait. I wait until the third day, when I can't wait any longer and I pick up the phone again and text him. Once, twice, and a third time. It's stupid and pathetic and ridiculous and I feel dumb doing it, and yet I can't stop myself. I need to hear from him. I need to know where we stand. I need to know if this is a real breakup. But the more time that passes, the more I realize that of course it is. He broke up with me and now he doesn't wanna hear from me. And I am just a stupid little girl who doesn't understand when I don’t get my way.

  By Friday, I give up. I know that he doesn't want me contacting him anymore so I don't. I promise myself that I will never contact him again. When Ellis calls and invites me to go out for a drink, I don't want to, but I force myself to do it. I need the distraction. I need to get out of my head and do something productive. Drinking is not productive, but at least it's cathartic.

  “I can't believe that you did that,” Ellis says, shaking her head when I tell her how pathetic I have been. “You deserve so much more than him. You deserve someone who at least fucking answers the phone.”

  “ I know,” I say nothing. “I'm so stupid.”

  * * *

  “Yes, you are,” she says. “You should not have ever gone out with him in the first place. You should have listened to me right from the beginning, but of course you haven't. Of course you had to go out and make your own mistakes.”

  * * *

  “Okay,” I say, waving my hand. “I've had enough with the lecture. Can we just move on to the parting portion of the evening?”

  She laughs, tossing her head back as she takes another shot and follows it up with yet another one. I follow along with her, knowing that I'm going to regret drinking all of this tomorrow and not giving a shit one bit.

  She congratulates me on my PhD and then asks me what I intend to do with such a useless degree.

  * * *

  “Aren't all PhDs useless?” I ask. “Well, no, not really. There are those who get them in chemistry or biology or math even.”

  I was joking, of course. I was just referring to the fact that research doesn't pay much in comparison to industry and so by their nature all PhDs seem a little bit out of touch, let's put it that way.

  * * *

  “Well,” she says, “you'll have to admit that yours is particularly useless.”

  * * *

  I shrug and look down into my glass as the liquid rolls over the ice. “I like reading and I like reading popular fiction and I like studying, so it was a good combination of the three. A lot better than going out there and trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Tate Media.” I look up at her to gauge her reaction and see her bite her lower lip.

  “Oh shit,” I say. “What do you know?”

  * * *

  “Well, I didn't wanna bring it up…”

  “Come on, you have to tell me. God knows, my parents don't tell me much.”

  * * *

  “What are you talking about?” she asks.

  “Well,” I sigh deeply. “They told me that the company is in trouble, but they are refusing to elaborate on it to any degree whatsoever. So I'm just left here worrying without the ability to find any solutions.”

  “As you probably know,” Ellis says, “it's all over the news. All the analysts on CNBC and other places are predicting that the company isn't worth as much as your parents say it is.” I roll my eyes.

  * * *

  “The analysts are always full of shit,” I say.

&nbs
p; * * *

  “Be that as it may,” she says, “that doesn't change the fact that Tate Media is important as much as your parents say, is it?”

  “I don't know,” I say. “That's the whole problem. They keep me in the dark and then just cherry-pick what they tell me.”

  * * *

  “Well, you don't officially work there,” Ellis points out. “Maybe they just don't want you to worry.”

  * * *

  “That's the whole problem,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “That's the whole fucking problem! They don't want me to worry? I’m worried now.

  “On the day of my graduation, they throw this bomb at me saying that they're trying to sell the company, a fact that I had no idea about, and then they tell me not to worry. Well, I am worried. And I don't work there now, but maybe I should. Maybe then this sort of thing wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Ellis says.

  We talk about this for a long time until last call. Sometimes Ellis isn't a very good friend, but tonight she is. And I really appreciate that. The only problem is that I wish I could tell her more. I wish I could tell her what my parents told me about Franklin and I wish I could tell her that tomorrow I have a meeting with him to talk about whatever the hell all of this is. I wish I could tell her the truth because someone should know. Someone besides me.

  28

  Aurora

  I arrive at his penthouse at seven the following evening. He has invited me here, I said no, and then my mother called me and begged me to hear him out. Somehow, she has persuaded me that by taking this meeting I could convince him to simply purchase Tate Media and not include me in the process. Not knowing what else to do and wanting to help my parents, I reluctantly agree.

  Franklin’s home is beautiful and extravagant and modern. But mostly, it looks like it belongs to a bachelor.

  It doesn't matter that it is a five-thousand square-foot apartment in one of the most prestigious areas of the town, all I see is the pool table in the middle of the dining room and the obnoxious black rug underneath.

  His tailored suits and the location of this place made me think that he may have some style and fashion sense, but this atrocity reveals the truth; he's just an overgrown fraternity brother.

  Still, I'm pleasantly surprised when he meets me at the door and is not intoxicated.

  After inviting me inside, Franklin offers me a drink. I decline and he pours each of us a glass of water, showing me to the sitting room.

  The view from up here is magnificent. There are floor-to-ceiling windows lining the entire south facing wall of his apartment, looking out at the twinkling lights outside.

  “You have quite a beautiful apartment,” I say, looking around.

  “I'm glad you like it,” he says, leaning back against the couch.

  The statement is a bit off-putting.

  I watch him run his fingers through his thick hair and take a sip of his water.

  “Are you not drinking today?" I ask him.

  “Actually, I'm doing a cleanse. If you can believe that.”

  “I can believe many things,” I say.

  “Well, you don't know me very well. Actually, that reminds me. I wanted to apologize for what happened at the gala. I acted like a total asshole and… I'm sorry about that."

  I sit up a little in my seat and tilt my head.

  “Thank you," I say after a moment.

  “I appreciate you saying that.” He gives me a knowing nod and finishes his water.

  “Can I get you another one?” he asks, heading back to the bar.

  “No.” I point to the nearly full glass in my hand. “I'm good.”

  “I wanted to congratulate you on finishing your PhD program. That's quite an achievement,” Franklin says, taking the seat next to me this time.

  Our knees are almost touching, but he's careful to avoid actual contact.

  “Thank you,” I say with a slight smile. “It was a lot of work and it has been very rewarding.”

  “What are your plans now?"

  “I'm not entirely sure, but I’m considering my options at Tate Media,” I say. I’ve had enough of the small talk and want to wind this conversation toward what I'm here for.

  “And what kind of options are you considering?” Franklin asks, leaning back against the couch.

  “I'm not really sure right now. But my father has informed me that you are actually interested in purchasing the company. Is that correct?"

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So, if that is the case, I guess I don't really have a future there, right?”

  “That depends on you,” Franklin says.

  Our conversation is going in circles and I'm getting tired of it.

  “Okay, let me put it this way,” I say, placing the glass carefully on his coffee table. “My parents have informed me that in order to complete the sale of the company, you are interested in marrying me. Is that correct?”

  I wait for him to apologize and make amends or at least explain himself. But instead, he just says, “Yes, I am interested in marrying you."

  “Why?”

  “Why am I interested in marrying you?”

  “Yes, of course. We hardly even know each other. Besides, you told me that you are not interested in marriage at all, not to anyone.”

  “Well, let's just say that you have changed my mind.”

  “You don't know me,” I insist. “You would hate me.”

  “Why don't you just leave that to me?” he asks.

  “Because it's not gonna happen,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

  I get up and walk away quickly. Before reaching the door, I spin around on my heels and find him only a few steps away from me.

  “I'm not going to marry you,” I say, staring straight into his eyes. “You can't ask for me as part of some business deal. I'm not for sale.”

  He laughs, tossing his head back.

  “Everybody is for sale.”

  “No, they're not,” I say. “And definitely not me.”

  He doesn't say anything in response and I'm about to spin back around and head toward the door when something else hits me.

  “Is that why you gave him the job?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “Henry Asher, my boyfriend.”

  “Oh, yes.” He laughs. "I heard the unfortunate news. I'm really sorry to hear that you two have broken up. Henry mentioned something alluding to that.”

  "No, you're not,” I correct him.

  “No, I'm not.” He laughs.

  “So, is that why you offered him the position? And is that why you have been keeping him in Kentucky and West Virginia and God knows where else all of his time?”

  “Of course,” Franklin admits. "What's the easiest way to break up two people who are very wrong for each other? Add a little pressure and a little distance and poof, the relationship evaporates.”

  “Why don't you just go to hell?” I say and walk away from him.

  “I will, don't worry!” he yells after me. "But you're going to be right there with me.”

  At the door, I turn around one last time and say, “And just in case you are wondering, no, I won't marry you. I will never marry you.”

  The following morning, my doorbell rings and I am greeted by my mother, who is completely distraught and in tears.

  I haven't seen her like this in… I have never seen her like this.

  “What's wrong?” I ask, pulling her close to me.

  She sobs and cries and mumbles something that I can't make out.

  I ask her to calm down and to tell me what's going on.

  “They have arrested your father,” she finally manages to say. “They showed up this morning at six and pointed a gun in his face. And when they were taking him out to the car, he had a heart attack.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, putting my hand over my mouth. “No, no!”

  “I told you," she snaps, pointing her finger in my face. "I warned you about this. I told you that he is not
well and that the justice department was closing in.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I mumble.

  She buries her head in her hands and cries. When I put my arm around her shoulders, she lifts her eyes up and glares at me.

  “This is all your fault!” she hisses.

  “What? Why?”

  “You were the one that went over there and told him that you would never marry him.”

  “Franklin?”

  “Yes, Franklin,” Mom barks. “He's the most powerful man that you’ve never heard of. This is all happening because of him. This is all happening because you said no."

  Thank you for reading Dangerous Engagement. Henry and Aurora’s story continues in the second book of this epic trilogy. One-click Lethal Wedding Now!

  To save my father’s life and our family’s legacy, I have to marry a cruel man who wants me only as a trophy.

  * * *

  I thought Franklin Parks was a bad man before, but now I know he’s a monster.

  * * *

  To survive, I will have to beat him at his own game. But then Henry Asher, my one and only love, comes back into my life and things get a lot more complicated.

  * * *

  Franklin is not only my fiancé but also Henry’s boss, and he will stop at nothing to get everything he wants…

  * * *

  Henry Asher

  * * *

  I was a fool to let her go. Now, I’ll have to do everything to get her back…

  * * *