The Billionaire's Private Scandal

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  Wendy nodded and grabbed both stacks of cash. “I’ll think about calling.”

  “Don’t ask for my tips again until you have. You can count out the till. I’m out of here.”

  Megan made her way out of the coffee shop, the bell on the door ringing her departure. After six hours on her feet last night and six again this morning with only an hour in between, she should go home and sleep before she started the whole cycle over again. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not now.

  As the day crept towards noon, the air warmed around her while she walked the mile and a half to the reason she’d landed in Pasadena. Her mother had funded the first Cassie Carlton Retreat House thirty years ago to honor Megan’s great-grandmother and the founder of the Carlton Hotel empire. Even with the loss of its major benefactor, the charity was still running.

  For now.

  Megan stopped at the white picket fence, looking up at the non-descript façade. To those who passed by, it was just another home in an old neighborhood. For her, it was a sanctuary whose walls had saved countless women. It was the embodiment of what her great-grandmother stood for, of how far she came from a battered wife to boarding house manager to hotelier. She’d made a plan for how her life would be and nothing got in her way.

  With new determination, Megan made her way down the front path and around to the back door where she used the numbered lock to let herself in.

  “Megan? I’m surprised to see you,” Evie said, piling up the paperwork she’d been busy with. The home’s director often worked at the kitchen table so she’d be open to any of the guests who might need to talk. “I thought you were working today.”

  “I’m done for a few hours, so I thought I’d check in.” She sunk into one of the chairs and listened to the quiet of the house. “The kids left?”

  Evie nodded and shrugged. “They packed up most everything this morning and headed to a cousin’s house in Oregon.”

  “Briana went to Oregon. I don’t suppose she’s called?” She missed her sisters terribly. One of the reasons she was so focused on the cell phone was to be able to use the numbers in it to make sure they were okay.

  She’d almost given in last week and asked Brandon if he’d tracked down her sisters the way he had her. Was he simply after the money her father had embezzled and not above using the man’s children to find it, or did seven years of sharing her body with him mean he owed her the thinnest sliver of responsibility?

  Not enough to warn her that her life was about to implode, or even keep other women out of his bed. Her heart and eyes began to ache, so she put the image of Brandon and Gemma Ryan firmly out of her mind.

  Evie shook her head. “A fresh start will do them all good, I think. And it means we have a room, if you want it back.”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m here. There’s a woman from work who might be calling.”

  …

  “Are you sure you won’t marry me?” Gemma Ryan all but stomped into Brandon’s office and perched on his leather couch, her pout in full force. “It’s just a year of your life. What do you have to do this year that you can’t do married to me?”

  Brandon watched from behind the open armoire as Danny turned his wheelchair around behind the large mahogany desk. His smile was as big as her eyes.

  “If you have your heart set on getting married today, sweetheart, we can leave right now.” Danny leaned on his elbow, tilting his body towards the pretty blonde.

  When Gemma jumped in shock, Brandon couldn’t help but laugh. He supposed sitting down and from behind he and Danny looked enough alike—short dark hair, broad shoulders, the obligatory dress shirt and tie. But the wheelchair wasn’t the only way to tell them apart. Dan shaved twice a day, while Brandon put it off until he couldn’t pass it off as stylish shadow anymore.

  “This isn’t funny.” Gemma turned to look at Brandon, then gestured towards Danny. “Did you tell him?”

  After collecting the file he needed, Brandon closed the armoire and walked to his desk. “This is your train wreck, not mine. Though you should tell him. He knows everything about everyone. He could tell you who’s likely to milk you for your inheritance faster than I could.”

  “Wow, Gemma, train wrecks, marriage and an inheritance? You’re a movie of the week, darlin’.” Danny wheeled around to the front of the desk.

  “I told you, this isn’t funny.”

  “No, you told him it wasn’t funny, me you tend to ignore. But if you want to look my way, we can head to the courthouse right now.”

  “I can’t marry you.”

  “Of course you can’t, honey.” Dan leaned back in the chair and patted the padded armrests.

  “That’s not why!”

  Brandon cleared his throat. “You know, Gem, he’s not a bad option. I trust him with my life.”

  “Really.” Gemma leveled her gaze at him, and then turned to Danny. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”

  Danny’s head whipped around. “What is with the matrimonial fever in this room?”

  “He claims he can’t marry me because he is marrying someone else, but he won’t tell me who.”

  Suspicion flickered in Danny’s gaze before he turned back to Gemma. “He’s no prince charming, sweetheart. I’m definitely a better catch.”

  “Would you be serious!”

  “Why do you want to marry him anyway? He works too much, his feet stink and he snores.”

  “Hey! Those were your shoes you were always smelling, and I do not snore.” The trouble with staying friends with someone who had watched you go through the most awkward and malodorous years of adolescence was that no matter how you grew up, you were still that angry kid who got tossed into military school for having one too many parties at his parents’ house. Actually, it was the party on the yacht that sent him to Colvard Military Institute. He had to grin at all he learned there. It was as much about how to behave as it was about how to not get caught misbehaving.

  “Don’t listen to him. He snores like a bear.”

  “No, I don’t.” Megan had never said anything, and she wasn’t the type to keep something like that to herself. Though she never slept over as often as he liked, but he always thought that had more to do with her need for privacy than him.

  “Go on then,” Danny motioned for the phone. “Let’s call your bride and ask.”

  Brandon only glared. He’d figured Danny had begun to put things together about Megan, but this confirmed it.

  “I knew you weren’t really getting married.” Gemma sat up straighter.

  “No, he is. Well, he wants to, his bride isn’t as convinced he’s husband material as you are.”

  She slumped back into the cushions and looked at Brandon. “What about Dane Preston? Do you—”

  “Gay,” Danny said.

  “Excuse me?” Gemma’s long hair cascaded over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side.

  “He’s gay.”

  Brandon drummed his fingers on his desktop. “For her purposes, that wouldn’t matter. But he’s too much of a risk.”

  “The gambling thing?” Danny looked up at him. Brandon nodded in response. “What about one of your investment-club friends? Who’s the one with the boss who wants him married?”

  “Cameron, and, no. His boss wants him to have a wife to run his life, not a paper marriage.” If he told any of the guys about Gemma’s predicament, they’d laugh and tell him to buy the estate for her. But his money, and some of theirs, was still tied up in the Carlton International deal.

  Danny shook his head and wheeled closer to where she sat. “Okay, so let me get this straight, princess. You’re okay with marrying a gay guy or a guy who’s hopelessly hung up on someone else, but the string of pretty boys you play with aren’t in the line-up. Why is this?”

  Gemma shot him a desperate look, but Brandon could only shrug.
“Go ahead, tell him.”

  She narrowed her gaze and then turned to Danny. “My grandfather decided to make my inheritance contingent upon being married for one year by my thirtieth birthday. I have a month to get married, or else next year my inheritance will go to some Antarctic exploration fund.”

  “Ah, the last frontier.”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  “You don’t want to get married, then get a job, princess. It’s not as if you didn’t know this was coming. It sounds to me like you’ve known for a while you’d have to hitch up.”

  “It’s not just about the money. It includes the Ryan Estate. All those people would have to find new homes because I doubt some Antarctic explorer is going to want to hold on to an Alzheimer’s center.” Her face reddened and her voice rose with each word. She swallowed hard and seemed to gain her control back. “I can’t marry just anyone off the street. There’s a clause that I can’t have a prenuptial agreement. It has to be someone I trust not to stick with me for a year and then rob me blind in the divorce. It isn’t worth doing if I’m going to lose everything anyway.”

  Brandon scratched his head and shifted in his seat. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Gemma. But I can’t marry you.”

  “Because of this mystery woman. Are you sure she’s worth me losing everything?” There was desperation in her dark green gaze, but it didn’t tempt him in the slightest. Neither had the kiss she’s planted on him a few months back when she first told him about her crazy scheme. He wanted Megan and nothing was ever going to change that.

  A smile slowly spread across his face. Megan was worth any risk. But he didn’t have to throw his friends to the wolves, either, just at each other. “We’ll think on it. There’s got to be a man in California who doesn’t need to marry you for your money.”

  “I guess if that’s the best you’re going to offer, there’s nothing more I can do.” Gemma rose, brushing a hand over the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. He got up from the desk and circled around to hug her before she left. She was so defeated by all this that he knew he had to think of some way out of it for her.

  Once she was gone, he sat on the edge of his desk and waited. Danny kept quiet for long minutes before speaking.

  “You’re really going to marry Megan Carlton?”

  “First chance I get.”

  …

  Brandon blinked his dry eyes when the phone call notice popped up on his screen. Studying the Carlton reports was mind numbing, so a call would be a welcome break from the monotony. Except he didn’t have the answers David Strong wanted to hear.

  He clicked on, because ignoring the call would be chicken shit, and he’d never hear the end of it at their next investment-club meeting. Best to get it over with in private, rather than around the table. And through the phone, he wouldn’t have to see David glaring like the Incredible Hulk about to smash him into oblivion. Because that’s what friends did when you thought with the wrong head.

  “Is this a personal reminder to renew my gym membership?” He tried for levity, hoping the fitness empire CEO had a sense of humor in there somewhere.

  “How’s my money, Brandon?”

  Ah, hell. “That would sound a lot less menacing if your voice were a few octaves higher.”

  “If you were afraid of me, I’d already have my money.” The weight of whatever it was David had actually called to say hung in the silence. “I’m not into hotels. Are you going to drag this out, or can we close up before the end of fourth quarter?”

  And to think, rumor was the guy had softened since getting engaged. “Restructuring on this level takes time. It won’t go past first quarter, you have my word.”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble with this deal? You’ve never been sketchy before. If it’s going to be a loss, I’d rather take the hit this year than next.”

  Staring at the Carlton balance sheets and listening to David was a one-two punch of reality. “The deal is solid, just slow because of the litigation.”

  “Solid is not how I would describe buying a hotel corporation you plan to dismantle. But that’s not actually why I called.”

  “I don’t know if I should be relieved or scared.” He tried on a laugh, but it sounded flat even to him.

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “What girl?” He shifted in his seat.

  “Or guy. I’m not judging. You know what Gibbons would say about this, right?”

  That thinking with the wrong head ruined businesses and careers faster than anything else. Yes, he knew exactly what the professor who put the investment group together would think of his decision to take over Carlton International. He cleared his throat. “This is a profitable venture. Not by my usual margin, but we won’t lose money on the deal.”

  “Here’s the thing. Whoever you did this for is leading you around by the dick, and that is never a good idea.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, unsure how to respond and still sound like an adult.

  “So this girl or guy or whoever, did it have the desired effect? Because if not, pull the plug and sell it all instead of holding out for better offers.”

  The flagship Carlton luxury hotels were all that remained in the portfolio. He didn’t feel like they were his to sell. He wouldn’t unless that was what Megan wanted, and he couldn’t get her to talk to him right now, let alone have a financial conversation.

  “Who’s the girl?” David repeated, slower this time.

  Time to put it all out there. “Megan Carlton.”

  “Damn.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  David laughed, quietly at first, and then he gave up trying to hold it in. “Sophie is going to love this.”

  “How about you don’t discuss it with your girlfriend.”

  “She has this thing with gifts. I bought her a car once, and it didn’t go over well. I can’t imagine if I tried to buy her a company.”

  “I don’t get it.” He hadn’t met the mysterious Sophie yet, and didn’t know a single woman who would be upset if someone bought them a car.

  “It took me a while to get it, too. You’ll figure it out.” His laugh returned, which was strange because he wasn’t much of a joker. Maybe he was softening. “I recommend chocolate. It distracts Sophie long enough for me to figure out what I did wrong.”

  “Megan is more of an ice cream person.”

  “Well, stock up. The sooner you get right with your girl, the sooner I get my money.”

  “Glad to know you care.” David made a good point. What he needed to fix the Carlton deal wasn’t financial maneuvering, no matter how hard he looked at the reports. He needed to know what Megan wanted to do with the properties before he could do anything else.

  “Don’t let it get around that I give a damn. I’ll see you in New York next week, right?”

  “I’ll be there.” Changing the subject every time someone asked about his latest project.

  Unless he could fix things with Megan before then. He just had to knock down the wall she’d built between them.

  …

  By the time she got off the second bus, Megan realized she really should have slept for more than an hour yesterday. Even though it was mid-day, it wasn’t safe to be nodding off on public transportation, especially with a transient eyeing your handbag.

  Luckily, the sun on her face bolstered her enough to fake alertness as she walked to her apartment. In the last two weeks she’d been working both jobs every day, volunteering at Carlton House, and barely sleeping more than an hour at a time. It seemed every time she’d drift off, she’d hear something that spooked her—cars backfiring, neighbors fighting, kids playing a joke and trying to open her front door. At least she hoped it was a joke. Either way, she couldn’t relax and was running on nothing but adrenaline and caffeine.

  It felt like treading water in the m
iddle of a deserted ocean, no rescue in sight. Wendy had been talking with Evelyn, and collecting double tips for it. Megan wanted to help, but she couldn’t afford to for much longer. Each month that she didn’t pay off her old cell-phone bill, they tacked on a ridiculous interest fee. It was as if they expected her to dig her way to China with a runcible spoon. She’d even started going to other electronics stores looking for the charger, but it seemed her phone wasn’t a standard model. Of course. Ava had picked them out, and she always got the latest thing.

  Megan walked faster, hoping momentum would carry her far enough to get behind a locked door before she crashed. She was so exhausted even her brain was tired, so she might actually get some sleep rather than lying awake and wondering about her family.

  “Where have you been?” The deep voice rocked her back on her heels and the slamming of a car door sent adrenaline rushing through her veins. She grabbed for the can of pepper spray on her keys as her brain slowly registered the hulking figure walking towards her.

  She had half a mind to spritz him with the pepper spray anyway. “Damn it, Brandon. You scared me.”

  “I shouldn’t have. I’ve been watching you for two blocks. If you’re going to live in a place like this, you need to be aware of your surroundings.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt bunching around his shoulders with the movement.

  “You shouldn’t jump out in front of women, or you might find yourself on the wrong end of a can of mace. There, we’re even. One piece of advice for another.” She stepped off the curb, hoping to get across the street and up the stairs before Brandon caught up with her.

  His fingers wrapped around her arm, keeping her from fleeing. “I saw Ava.”

  Megan froze. The problem with sleeping with the enemy was that they knew exactly where you were vulnerable. She needed to know that her sisters were all right. She hadn’t spoken with either of them since they were thrown out of the hotel and had that horrible fight.

  They used to talk almost every hour, and now the only sound between them was silence. She needed to hear their voices, but she’d settle for knowing one of them was okay.