“Like what?” Evie asked, before Megan had a chance to tell Gemma what she could do with her ideas.
“Renaming the different houses.”
“Absolutely not.” Megan stood, her pulse thundering in her ears. “I’m not going to let you erase decades of dedication and support.”
“Megan, you need to listen.” Jordana’s hand on her arm was the only thing that stopped her from saying more, or from knocking the twit backwards out of the small room. “No one is discounting the effort your mother put into starting this to honor your great-grandmother. You just need to be realistic about what is best for the women you help. You will not get a single sizable contribution as long as Carlton is connected to the organization.”
Megan shook off her hand. “You want me out?”
Jordana shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You are key to the consistency of the organization. That you’re here speaks to the resiliency of women, which is what this is all about. Think about this—why are they called Carlton Houses?”
“Because there are women who slip through the cracks and don’t know how to accomplish what my great-grandmother did. My mother founded the charity and my family has been the primary supporter since inception.”
The older woman nodded. “So wouldn’t it be better if this were Amanda’s House? We could name another after your grandmother.”
Evie stood and came to stand beside Megan. “I like it,” she said softly.
“You see?” Gemma pressed her hands together in glee. “Then the fundraiser will be a rededication event. You won’t seem so desperate.”
“We are not desperate.” Megan’s decibel level belied her words, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to be put down by the woman sleeping with Brandon.
“Ladies, will you excuse us for a moment?” Jordana Knight gave a look to the others in the room that sent the five women scurrying. When they were alone, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Megan for long moments.
Megan met the gaze, not wanting to back down. If they wanted to force her out, she’d go kicking and screaming. She might not have been able to do a thing to stop the financial melee her father had started, but she could put the brakes on destroying this legacy.
The older woman let out a slow sigh and her gaze flickered to the dog and back to Megan. “You need help with this. These shelters are too important for you to let pride get in the way.”
“I will not let anyone undo what my mother built.”
“That’s fair, but Amanda was not born a Carlton and neither was your great-grandmother. No one is trying to take away the tribute to them, but in this community Carlton is synonymous with thief. No one will willingly hand anything with the name Carlton more money when they think he still owes them.”
Megan’s eyes closed as the argument registered and her stomach sank. Jordana was right. Donations had stopped cold along with the monthly support her parents had provided. They’d been running on reserve funds ever since and it wasn’t going to last much longer. They had to do something, or in addition to losing the hotel chain her great-grandmother had built from a run-down boarding house, they’d lose the homes they’d opened in her honor to shelter women from the storms of life.
She opened her eyes and nodded, her voice shaking as she spoke. “I won’t work with Gemma.”
Jordana blinked. “Why not? She does amazing PR work for a lot of different foundations. She has wonderful contacts that could really help this campaign.”
“My reasons are petty, and I don’t want to have to see her.” Or have to hear about how amazing and wonderful she was.
“I admire your honesty.” Her quiet laugh brought a smile to Megan’s face. “I’m curious about something else though. Why has my son had your dog for the last month?”
Megan started, a lie to cover the truth forming on her lips. It had become so natural to keep her relationship with Brandon to themselves, her first instinct was to keep up the charade. But since Brandon was with Gemma, a girl who’d attached herself to his mother, there was nothing to hide anymore.
“I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, so Cash has been bounced around a bit. But he’s back with me now.”
…
Every time he moved, the collar of his shirt scratched against the hickey Megan had left on his neck. To make matters worse, her other love bite was exactly where his jeans creased when he sat. It wouldn’t bother him at all if he were naked and she was here the same way.
He shifted in the chair, his jeans growing too tight yet again. After last night, he seemed to have a permanent semi, and if he didn’t get Megan beneath him soon he’d surely go mad. Not that he was altogether sane right now.
“Danny!” he bellowed to his empty office. No doubt the administrative assistants between their offices cringed, but he was beyond caring. When he’d arrived this morning, Danny’s people had already lost track of Megan. He knew part of that was his fault, having spirited her away to Malibu, but if he didn’t know where she was, he wanted someone to.
“Dude,” Danny said as he wheeled himself into the room. “We have an intercom. Stop being a Neanderthal and use it.”
“Where is she?” His foot tapped against the floor like a woodpecker on speed.
“Pasadena Carlton House. They’ve tagged her car, so she won’t be able to go anywhere in it without being tracked.”
The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d been panicked all morning that she’d run further away. He’d even called his mother with news the charity was in trouble to make sure someone set eyes on her today.
If the Carlton Houses really were struggling, his mother would know how to fix things. She knew millions of ways to separate rich people from their money. It was a family tradition of sorts, he and his father collected money and she doled it out to those who needed it. Really, his story was Robin Hood, not the Big Bad Wolf. Why couldn’t Megan see that?
Danny leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me what the real deal is with Megan?”
“Yeah, that’s what I need to know, too.” Gemma Ryan flounced into the office, tossing her oversized handbag on the leather couch. “She refuses to let me help with the campaign at her shelters.”
Brandon knit his brows together. “Why would you want to?”
“Your mother asked me to help.” As she spoke, she flittered her hands about like twitching butterflies. “I think she knows I’m stressed out and this would be a great distraction. But instead it was all, ‘Great ideas, Gemma. You can go now.’ Megan was openly rude to me. It’s like the Carlton’s lost their manners along with their money.”
Danny rubbed his nose, his gaze moving from Brandon to Gemma and back again. “You sent your mommy? How old are you?”
“What?” Brandon rubbed his cheek, stubble scratching his fingers. “She said the organization was having funding trouble. There’s no one better to help her.”
“Dude, you sent your mommy.” Danny began to chuckle.
“Stop saying it like that. I needed to know what they need to stay afloat.”
Gemma huffed and perched a hip on the glass-topped desk. “I don’t know why you’re helping her at all. She’s not very nice. Me on the other hand, you could help me and it wouldn’t cost you a thing.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a real peach.” Danny shook his head. “Every nice girl wants to insult the concept of marriage by tying the knot with an even richer man who won’t bother her for three hundred and sixty five days so she can inherit a mint, and then let her go without getting his hands on any of her assets.” He leered at Gemma in a way that wasn’t entirely gentlemanly.
She straightened up. “This was not my idea. My grandfather wanted to make sure I didn’t marry for money, he just had a bad way of insuring that didn’t happen, and a wonky timeline for it.”
“And you have some pretty exacting criteria. I
can’t find a guy in all of California who I don’t think has a reason to take half of everything when you toss him aside next year. Except him.” He tilted his head towards Brandon.
“Oh no, no, no. I have my own problems, and this—” he swirled his hand in the air, “—this would make everything much worse. You do it.”
“She doesn’t want to ride around on my lap, if you know what I mean. I think it’s you she wants.”
Gemma stomped her foot. “I’m in the room! Why is everyone looking at me like I’m trash today?”
Danny shrugged, his gaze lingering on her chest.
“You wouldn’t know style if it smacked you in your block head.” She grabbed her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “You—” she pointed at Brandon, “—you need to stop feeling so damned guilty about the Carlton sisters. If Megan doesn’t want your help, take her at her word and she’ll get what’s coming to her.” She spun on her stiletto heel and pointed at Danny. “And as for you, mister know-it-all, I’m calling your bluff. You and me, New Years Eve, Las Vegas. Not because I like you, or I feel sorry for you being in that chair, but because if you do screw me, Brandon will pay me back.”
She shook her head, her blonde bob waving about her cheeks. “You men make everything far too complicated.” She sashayed out of the office as if she’d just solved the problem of world peace.
Danny cleared his throat. “You should have asked her what to do about your Megan problem. Since she has an answer for everything.”
No way was he letting Gemma into his personal life, especially if Megan already had a problem with her. “You’re just mad because you’re usually the one with all the answers.”
Danny’s lips quirked as he grinned. “You want to know what I think you should do about Megan?”
…
She’d kept only one dress, and everyone had seen it before. Megan held out the black lace over cream dress and wondered if it still fit. After a lifetime of struggling to stay within a size of her smaller sisters, she was managing it by the simple task of not eating enough. It made her tired and cranky, but she could probably fit into the designer sample sizes that were sent to her friends in the hopes the celebutantes might be photographed in them. If Jordana really did expect her to show her face at the major events this season, then Megan would need to make nice with some of her old classmates. That, or become the talk of the town by wearing the same tired dress over and over.
She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to parade herself before the benefactors of the city, didn’t have to risk seeing Brandon and Gemma together. He hadn’t tried to contact her in the last two days, but she figured he was just biding his time, waiting for a chance to strike when it would be deadly and not just scarring.
After working at the bar last night and a long shift at the coffee shop this morning, the only thing she wanted was a few hours of sleep. Instead, she’d had to turn down a shift at the bar she couldn’t afford to miss for a party that would last until she had to start brewing coffee in the morning.
Not that she’d stay that long. She’d put in an appearance, let the rumor mill start swirling, and get out long before it could grind her into dust. She’d probably have to do the same thing over and over every weekend until the fundraising party the Saturday before Christmas. Four long weekends of sheer torture. She hoped it would be worth enough to keep the houses running until her sisters could help her think of what to do next.
Talking with them had been an exercise in caution. Ava was so excited about her new business venture and Briana was busy with school, and Megan hadn’t wanted to weigh them down with her issues. She kept her side of the conversation strictly on what she’d been doing with the Carlton Houses, and that they weren’t going to be called that much longer. Both of her sisters thought it was a lovely idea to name them after women who’d helped so many others.
Since her sisters hadn’t balked at the idea, Megan knew she’d reacted to Gemma, not the concept. She resigned herself to changing the names of the centers and hoped that Jordana’s idea to let two big contributors choose names of the remaining homes would bring in the capital they all needed.
Cash scurried about her feet, probably wondering if she’d fallen asleep standing up. He never seemed to know what to do with her while they were in the apartment together. He wanted to play, she wanted to sleep. Megan smiled at his inherent happiness and danced around him for a bit to get her energy going before she changed out of her standard jeans and long sleeve T-shirt for something from her former life.
She’d kept this dress not for itself, but for the stilettos that matched it. They were the most spectacular shoes she’d ever owned, and she hadn’t wanted to part with them when she’d sold everything else to make the deposits on this hovel of an apartment. She wouldn’t miss it a bit when she left.
As soon as she knew the Carlton Houses were stable financially, she was going to head towards one of her sisters and away from Brandon Knight. When she did manage to get any sleep, he was the first thing that drifted into her mind. And he was always naked and willing, and if it weren’t for Cash waking her up, she’d probably have called him by now. She’d thought of using returning the car as an excuse, but she hadn’t trusted herself, and so she was still borrowing it.
The entire predicament really made her feel for her mother. She couldn’t help but wonder why her parents had stuck together now, when a scandal like this would have pulled even the closest of couples apart. She didn’t understand it, but now that she’d personally experienced the pull towards a man who’d burned you so badly the scars might never heal, she could at least empathize. Her sisters weren’t so forgiving.
Megan applied makeup for the first time in weeks and finger combed through her hair, hoping the loose curls looked purposeful. The only mirror in the apartment was barely big enough for her to see her face, so she hoped for the best as she slipped on the dress and heels. If being seen by her former friends was as mortifying as she feared, at least Evie would be with her. Megan had convinced her to come to the symphony soiree because she couldn’t stand the thought of going alone.
She buttoned her coat and scooped up Cash, grabbing her handbag and keys on the way out. She stalled on the stairs when she saw the crowd of teens hovering around her car. She beeped the alarm, which usually had them walking away, but today they stayed, one of them leaning on the trunk. It made Cash bark like crazy as she did her best to ignore them as she climbed in the car, pretending she didn’t hear the coarse words they threw her way.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she locked the doors and drove away. She couldn’t blame them for what they thought, the names they called her. Last week she’d been on a bus, and now she had a car worth more than their families brought home in a year. All because a well-dressed man had shown up on the street a few times. Her eyes stung with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall.
Those boys had a point. In a way, she had traded her body for the car. Bile burned the back of her throat as she drove to the Carlton House to drop off Cash and pick up Evie. If strangers could see what she’d done, would she be able to hide it from those who had known her best?
Chapter Six
Brandon felt the electricity in the air even before he saw Megan. He tried to listen to whatever it was Gemma found so important, but her words passed through his brain as he scanned the crowd filling the ballroom of the Beverly Carlton. His gaze found Megan like a heat-seeking missile, though she had her back to him and seemed caught up in the tangle of people surrounding her.
There was something about the way she held her shoulders, something that wasn’t quite right. He’d always kept his distance from her at events, keeping up the veil of privacy they lived their relationship under, so he was very accustomed to watching her. And she was not herself.
“What are you looking at?” Gemma laid her hand on his arm and leaned into him.
In that brief moment,
Megan turned and registered his presence. Or he thought she had, but she seemed to be looking down and to the left, her expression laced with poison. Brandon followed her dagger-filled gaze straight to Gemma.
He looked back to Megan, annoyance filling him. Megan could not possibly think anything was going on with Gemma. It was utterly ridiculous, and more than a little insulting.
He’d never given Megan any reason not to trust him. Gemma was his oldest friend, another lonely only child from the estate neighboring his parents. She was a sister, a fact that was awkwardly apparent the one and only time she’d kissed him. Something clicked in his mind, like the ignition on a gas stove, but nothing sparked.
“Megan Carlton?” Gemma straightened back up. “Your mother told her she needs to make an appearance at all the major events to build her reputation back up. If she wasn’t such a bitch, I’d feel bad for her, having to answer all the questions everyone must have about her father.”
“Megan’s reputation is impeccable. It’s her father who’s got problems.”
“Megan is a Carlton asking for money. I don’t think anyone will be signing up to give her more after how her father swindled so many people. Including you. Have you managed to find him yet?”
“Your fiancé is working on that.”
Gemma cringed. “Don’t call him that. He’s probably only doing it to drive me insane, but I don’t see what other choice I have since you have your mystery woman.”
“Danny is good people, Gemma.” Brandon watched as two of the more vapid guys from their social set crowded Megan. The type of boys who never grew up and only cared about how quickly they could spend their family money, Brandon had little patience for them. More so when one rubbed Megan’s arm and didn’t let go as she tried to pull away.
“Daniel gets some sick delight out of teasing me. He always has, since that first time you brought him home with you from school.” Gemma kept talking, but Brandon had stopped listening completely.
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