“I was hurt, Ree. She told me a lot of lies.”
“She told them to me too, Alex, but I understood. I forgave. I empathized. You attacked.”
“I know. I was wrong but she was gone before I could tell her. Now she won’t talk to me. I want her back, Regan. I need her in my life.”
“Very nice, Alex. You almost have me convinced.”
“That’s not fair, Ree.”
“Sorry. I just had the need to make you suffer for a second. She won’t take you back, Alex. She thinks you are too good for her, that she is beneath you now. I would have sworn that people were over all that class nonsense, but I guess I would be wrong. The woman is Harvard educated, brilliant. Look at all she has accomplished before age thirty. She thinks your parents won’t approve.”
“That’s ridiculous. They love her.”
“Of course they do, and your father would, too, I am sure.”
“Wyatt told you?”
“Wyatt never could keep a secret from me, didn’t you know that? Missy too. We can always tell when he’s hiding something. Don’t worry, Alex, your secret is safe with us. No one cares anyway, except that your father is a legend.”
“Yeah. I hope Charlotte thinks so too.”
“She would if you had her back. You must really be in love. Want to know how I know?”
“How?”
“You reacted to Charlotte’s news with your heart, not your head. Logical Alex wasn’t logical about something for the first time ever. She touches something in you, Alex.“
“I can’t be logical around her, Ree. All my logic goes right out the window. I take one look at her and I can’t think straight.”
“Poor Alex. You’ve got it bad.”
“So will you help me, Regan? Help me get her back.”
“I want to, Alex, but I am not really sure what I can do. I think it is too late. I can talk to her for you, tell her we talked. But I am prevented as her boss from giving you her home address.”
“I have her home address. I need her to pick up the phone or answer the door though.”
“I can ask her to pick up when you call, but I can’t promise anything. She won’t answer the door though. Not at the address you have for her. Charlotte is gone. She quit last week. She went on her last business trip for me this week and then headed straight back to Rhode Island.
“She went to Rhode Island?”
“She went home to marry the animal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Charlotte wondered again, for the thousandth time, what she could have done differently. How did she end up here, the one place she had been running from for the last ten years?
“Char, do you have those figures for me yet?”
“Sorry, Estelle, I am getting them now,” she called back through the office doorway. At least she was helping her family. Working in the family business beside her brothers was the only silver lining in these clouds. Even her mother did not seem completely happy. And if her mother wasn’t happy planning a wedding for her only daughter, things were dire indeed.
Thinking back, Charlotte decided that she had made the right decision. She had been running these scenarios through her memory day and night, trying to replay a version that had a different ending. After two weeks of wracking her brain, she still landed right where she was.
Two weeks. That meant it had been almost a month since the last time she saw Alex. He had been so hard, so judgmental and unforgiving. It hurt, but she had long ago forgiven him for it. The messages, the flowers, the apologies had been so sincere that she realized the reaction she witnessed was hurt, not anger; it was his hurt and defensiveness. Once Alex let his defenses down, he wanted to work things out, understand, try again.
Of course, by then it was too late.
By then, Gil had done his damage, and done it well. The man was a complete snake, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He had looked at her with those melting amber eyes, flashed her those pearly white teeth and threatened the safety and happiness of everyone she loved.
Really, what options did she have at this point but to cave in to his demands? It seemed ridiculous to her, archaic even. Why would a man even want to marry a woman that he knew was only agreeing to the marriage under duress? She asked him this very question and his answer was the same as it had been since high school.
“You are the only girl for me,” he told her when he invited her to senior prom. “Carlotta, we were meant for each other.” He believed it then and he believed it now. “I will do whatever it takes to win your heart.”
Back when they were 18, that had meant splurging for an orchid corsage and a decent tuxedo. Now the stakes were much higher, but it was Charlotte who was doing whatever it took to make things work.
First, she had walked away from a job she loved, from the opportunity to really become something at LHRE and in turn to make a difference in real estate investing and the future landscape of the Midwest. The conversation with Regan had been stilted. She felt foolish lying to her again, just after she finally cleared the air and started being truthful.
“Regan, I have received bad news from home,” she began, crossing her fingers behind her back as she said it, in case the old wives’ tales were true then praying to God to forgive her and not make her lies come true. “My family’s new business has been growing by leaps and bounds, faster than they can manage. That has been good news for all of us. But now the cash management is a mess and my brother is too busy in the front office to manage the back office. He has begged me to come home and help. How can I say no? It’s my family.”
Her brother, Jake, could run circles around her businesswise. He had attended URI for undergraduate school, unable to afford more, but he had worked in his father’s business the entire four years, then two more before taking the time off to complete an MBA from Harvard. He had planted the seed in Charlotte to pursue a business degree, to aspire to Harvard. His smarts and work ethic were legion. She dreamed of someday being as good as he was. The idea that he might need her help was ridiculous, but Regan didn’t know that.
“Of course, Charlotte. You must go help your family if they are need you. Trust me, I run a family business too. I completely understand. How long do you think you will be gone?” Regan queried. She was being so supportive. It broke Charlotte’s heart to lose her as a boss and a friend. Charlotte hoped that someday she would be able to tell her the truth and resume a relationship.
Stop kidding yourself. It will never happen. You are shutting that door forever.
“I don’t mean temporarily, Regan. I need to resign. I am giving you my two
weeks’ notice. In fact, if there is any way I can leave sooner, I really need to get home.”
Charlotte had been unable to look Regan in the eye but she had delivered the words. Taking a big sigh, she turned to leave before she lost it in front of this kind, strong woman.
“Oh.” She had caught Regan off guard. “I didn’t realize that was what you were saying. I hate the idea of losing you, Charlotte. You have been a strong member of the team here, a real asset.”
“Thank you, Regan,” Charlotte mumbled, near tears. “That means a great deal to me. I will miss you and everyone at LHRE.”
“Well,” the soft moment over, Regan was all tough business. “I will need you to go close out things in St Louis before you leave. They will not want to deal with anyone else after all this time.”
“Of course, I’ll go Monday.” Charlotte was standing in the door, still trying to skulk away but Regan kept talking.
“And from there, I guess you can head home. What about your apartment?”
“The movers are coming later next week. I will arrange for my landlord to let them in. I already paid him, to break the lease,” Charlotte explained.
“So you have known about this for a while?” Regan sounded hurt and surprised. “Only about a week,” Charlotte was able to tell her honestly. “I was planning to make my move in with Alex more permanent.”
�
�The more I think about this, the more I think you should take a six-month leave of absence. Ethan can try to hold down the fort, with some help from me and the rest of the finance team. I will do my best to hold your job for that long, just in case.”
“Regan, that is more than I can ask. You need to get a director of finance in here.”
“I have a director of finance, Charlotte. I am looking at her.”
“Well, if you are sure. But I cannot make any promises.”
Hopefully, it will be easier when I am not face to face with her to tell her it has to be a permanent break.
“Understood,” Regan confirmed. As Charlotte turned to leave, Regan came from around her impressive desk. Giving Charlotte a brisk hug she whispered in her ear, “What about Alex?”
“You know we are through.”
“Yeah, sure,” Regan responded sarcastically. “I never saw two people more perfect for each other.”
Tears welling in Charlotte’s eyes, she quickly changed the subject and moved through the door. “I am so sorry, Regan. Believe me, I wish things could be different.”
Remembering that moment now, Charlotte worried that she had said too much, given away too much. She was the happy bride. This was her choice. She had to be sure everyone, even her family, believed that. Closing up the apartment in Chicago had been easy. She didn’t even unpack her belongings when they were moved over from Alex’s. Why bother when she already knew that everything was shipping back to Providence? God knew where she would put her things in the overcrowded house. She had suggested getting an apartment of her own, but Gil had nixed that immediately.
“I will know where you are and who you are with at all times,” he had outlined. “I will be taking your cellphone – don’t worry, I will get you a new one. You will be with family, at work, or with me. Understood?”
Charlotte had responded with a dejected nod, afraid to speak for fear that she would start screaming. She had worked so hard to build an independent life. It had been heartbreaking for her parents to let their only daughter move away for college. She had fought like hell just to end up back here.
“I will be an hour away, Mama,” she had reassured her mother repeatedly. “And it’s Harvard,” she added, like the prestigious words would erase her mother’s fears. “And I am eighteen years old, Mama.”
“Let her go, Luiza,” her father had said. “She worked hard for this scholarship. She is achieving all the dreams we came to America to achieve. She will be someone important someday, with important friends. She will make a difference in the world, just like you taught her.”
“I know,” her mother had conceded, wiping her eyes. “But I hate to let her out of my sight.”
“Don’t worry, Querida,” her father had promised his wife, “she will call home every day.”
And she had. Every single day of college, of graduate school, and once she moved to Chicago she spoke with her family daily. Until she moved in with Alex, she touched base with her parents each and every night, even if only for a minute. “I’m safe, I’m fine and I love you,” was often the entire conversation.
They had let go over time, less worried, more proud of what she was accomplishing. But not Gil. He never let go. He would arrive unannounced in Cambridge, asking to stay the weekend. He would call relentlessly, begging her to come home.
He was a good student, from a proud Portuguese family, and they wanted to send him to college, wanting more for him than they had themselves. His older brother was studying to be a research biologist and Gil had filled out an application to attend URI to study business, but he was bored with the idea of accounting classes and never attended. He would have received scholarships he had earned when Charlotte was helping him study. Instead, he stayed around the house until soon he was hanging out on neighborhood streets, tinkering with cars at the local garage, filling in at the textile factory’s second shift. He was making ends meet. When Charlotte pointed out that he could get so much further if he just applied himself, he brushed her off.
“Not everyone has to go to Harvard, Carlotta. When did you start looking down your nose at people who did an honest day’s work?”
He grew to resent Charlotte’s success, disparaging her ‘snooty’ friends and her clean fingernails. “Come home, Querida. You can work in the bakery. I can work there with you. They are expanding, you know. You would see it for yourself if you ever came home,” he complained. “Your brother is doing amazing things. Come home and see. Come work by my side.”
Gil may have thought that the constant pressure and whining would win her over, but it just pushed her further away, until things came to a head her Junior year.
On a cold November night, Charlotte returned late to her dorm walking with a young man, a fellow student. They had been studying together and he had offered to walk her home to assure her safety. There was no more between them than friendship.
She never got a chance to explain that to a drunk and waiting Gil before he threw the first punch. Gil had arrived at 7:00 and between the three-hour wait and the chill in the air, he had consumed a bottle of Jack Daniels and laid in wait for Charlotte. When she arrived with a man, she could not reason with a drunk and angry Gil.
“It was nothing, Gil. We were just studying,” Charlotte tried again to reason with him. “I wasn’t with him. But, we broke up, remember? We agreed to see other people.” That had been a mistake, fueling his animosity. Punching and kicking the fellow, he broke his nose and three ribs. He was down on the ground trying to fend off worse when Gil heard the sirens in the distance.
“You bitch,” he had spit at Charlotte. “You called the police? You called them on me? You cheat on me and then you call the police?”
When Charlotte nodded the affirmative, Gil had grabbed her and shaken her hard. She heard the sirens and prayed they would get there fast enough. She had never seen Gil this out of control and she was scared. He had never threatened her safety before. Until that night, she would have argued he was incapable of harming a hair on her head.
Slapping her hard across the face until she saw stars, Gil had called her every vile name he could think of, screaming in her face until spit foamed at his lips. Then he punched her once, hard, in the stomach and pushed her away with force.
She had awakened at Mass General, in the emergency room. The nurses and doctors explained that she had hit her head on the concrete and passed out. She was concussed, bruised, but after asking questions and having her walk and move for them, she had been pronounced fit to go home. Her study partner would remain over night.
She had not intended to press charges, but when the tough policewoman who interrogated her suggested a restraining order, she had leaped at the opportunity to follow through. Her study partner did press charges, though, and Gil went to jail for sixteen months for assault.
If Gil’s prospects had been lousy before that, they only got worse. While Charlotte graduated from Harvard and received her MBA, she heard numerous tales of Gil’s spiral down, He was in prison briefly, serving only six months of his sentence. Once released from prison, his family wrote him off. He needed a place to live and that meant he needed money. While Charlotte had not heard from him except for the collect calls from prison that she refused to accept, she heard from him once he was out.
Gil tracked her down in Boston and begged her to help him find work, come home. Be with him again. She was barraged with phone calls, letters and visits.
“We were good together, mi amada. You know we were,” he would plead. “I can be someone again with you by my side.” Instead of assisting, Charlotte reminded Gil of the restraining order and the calls mercifully stopped. Charlotte was able to obtain her degree, change her name and move into an apartment with an unlisted number. Until the insurance company started making her a ‘face’ for them, she had lived in quiet, undetected and unmolested.
But once Independent sent her to do CNBC and Bloomberg talk shows, news of Charlotte Roche got around and Gil easily tracked her down. H
e began showing up at her door again, leaving small, unwanted gifts of candy and flowers. He would not take no for an answer, although he always maintained a physical distance, honoring the restraining order.
Until late one Saturday night. Charlotte had been sleeping in her first floor apartment when she heard the glass in the front room smash. Reaching for the phone to dial 911, her intruder was on her before she completed the call.
Terrified, Charlotte had scratched and kicked, fighting for her life.
“Stop, Carlotta. It’s me.” Recognizing Gil’s voice she calmed a bit, but her brain continued to work furiously. She had to get him out. His breath stank of alcohol and he had broken into her apartment.
“You need to get out, Gil,” she had hollered, pushing him away from her.
“I am done waiting, Querida,” he had slurred. “I came to take you home.”
Bedeviled (Beguiling Bachelors Book 3) Page 27
