He crossed the room without knowing he meant to, his feet carrying him without thought. He didn’t need to hear the words being thrown at Megan by the crowd around her, their ugliness reflected on the faces of the people she used to consider friends. Some friends.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping between Megan and the worthless troll who hadn’t had the manners to let go of her arm.
He tried to steer her away, but a voice behind him stopped him cold. “You should wait your turn.”
Brandon turned and took two steps towards the coward who thought it a good idea to torment a woman. His woman. “What did you say?”
The idiot’s chin quivered, as it should. Taking out the frustrations of the last few months on this fool would be welcome. He could take this troll outside and show everyone that if they messed with Megan, he would lay them out one by one.
Megan’s hand wrapped around his clenched fist. “Brandon, please. Not now.”
He twined her fingers in his and lifted his chin at the worm. There was more than one way to hurt someone. If he couldn’t do it physically, he’d make sure the Patrick clan found their way into some financial trouble.
He turned and led Megan from the ballroom, grateful that she didn’t try and pry their hands apart even though their exit turned more than a few heads. He pulled her through the hallway and into one of the empty conference rooms the organizers of the party had used to hold decorations before the event. He closed the door and pulled her to him, half-expecting her to push him away.
Whatever had been said in that room had cut her deeper than he feared because she clung to him as if he were her ballast, and he held her closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands under the jacket of his dark suit and her head tucked beneath his chin.
He felt her shaky breaths as she calmed herself, and he cursed every one of the spoiled grown-children who’d made her feel less than she was. No wonder she’d run to Pasadena. She must have guessed the jackals would turn on her if she’d stayed.
…
Megan breathed in the familiar scent of Brandon’s cologne and listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath her ear until she no longer wanted to cry. She’d known facing everyone again wouldn’t be pretty, but she’d never imagined it would get quite that ugly. She held tighter to Brandon, trying to absorb his strength and stability. She needed enough of it to shore her up for a while, like for the rest of her life.
As she calmed down, she realized even Brandon must have an agenda. Yes, he felt guilty about what had happened to her family at his own hand, but there was more to it. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too, and there was one particular slice of devil’s food in the ballroom that was going to be none too happy about the way he’d left the scene.
That wasn’t her problem. Right now she just needed a booster shot of the confidence she used to have to immunize her against the next few weeks. People were angry about the money they lost because of her father and she was the only Carlton left for them to take their frustrations out on. Knowing that didn’t make the snide remarks and licentious comments any easier to take.
“Hey, you okay?” Brandon leaned back and lifted her chin with his finger. She looked up and wondered how she was supposed to replace such a satin-voiced, dark chocolate-eyed, scrumptious-smelling man. He’d ruined her in so many ways, financially didn’t even register.
She nodded like a bobble head, still unsure if she could talk without breaking. Instead she melted into his chocolate gaze like an ice-cream cone in August, and felt her cheeks lift in a smile in spite of her attempts to remain immune. He’d come through when she needed a friend the most, and she couldn’t help but be grateful.
“I don’t believe you, but I think everyone else will.” He released her and stepped back, forcing her to reluctantly give up her hold on him or look like a clingy fool. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she whispered automatically, lifting a hand to her hair. She knew twirling a curl in her fingers made her look nervous, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I thought you said you’d never wear this dress again.”
She blinked, remembering how the zipper had gotten stuck when she’d tried to release it. Six months ago it had fit like a sausage casing, now it looked as good on as she’d imagined it would when she’d bought it. The memory made her brighten enough to smile up at him.
“I’ve learned to never say never.”
A cocksure grin lit his face and he took her hand. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Before she could explain that she was still firm on never having sex with him again, he opened the door and started walking back towards the hallway to the ballroom, pulling her along with him.
“Wait a minute.”
“Nope, not a minute to lose. You came to work the party, not get attacked by the petulant offspring of the people you need to solicit donations from. We need to get you swirling in the right crowd.”
He kept up his pace, oblivious that she had to take two steps to his one, in three-inch heels no less. “Brandon, slow down. We can’t go back in there together.”
“We can and we are. I told you I’m done hiding out.”
She pulled her hand free of his, nearly stumbling from the loss of his momentum. “We’re not together anymore, so there is nothing to keep private. And if I let you lead me into that room, I can forget about clawing back the respect I’ll need to be an effective fundraiser.”
He turned to face her, the little crease between his eyes deepening. “If I show that I trust you after the Carlton Hotels deal, then everyone will see that they can trust you, too.”
“You actually believe that.” Megan shook her head. “There are plenty of people who’ll see us together and think that I came with everything else you bought.”
His eyes widened in shock. “That’s not my fault.”
“Nothing ever is.” She found herself standing taller, more centered than she’d been before his rescue. Maybe his confidence was as infectious as his cologne.
“We’re not discussing this here. But if we’d been open with everyone from the start—”
“You didn’t want that.” She softened her gaze, trying to explain. “Don’t you see? If you parade me in there like a trophy, they’ll be right.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You’ll expect me to go home with you in exchange.” She shrugged and swallowed over the ache in her throat. “And everyone will think I went along with it because of all the money my father owes you. You know what that would make me.”
He blinked slowly and took a step closer. “I don’t like where this train of thought is headed. I have wanted to be with you, to take care of you, since long before you needed me to.”
“What I need is to do this on my own. I have to know that I can take care of myself.”
He nodded. “Fair enough, but that doesn’t mean I have to pretend you don’t exist.”
When he offered her his arm, she took it, knowing that fighting with him would be pointless. Heads did turn as they reentered the fray, but instead of the swarm of prying scandalmongers she’d had to face when she arrived, this time she was led straight to his mother.
Jordana Knight welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek and then piloted her about the room as she greeted cautious former friends of her family. Brandon didn’t hover, but he didn’t disappear into the woodwork, either. Every time she felt the slightest unease, her gaze found him within seconds, as if they were bound together by an unseen tether, and her anxiety melted in the assurance of his smile.
She looked to him each time someone saw fit to confide in her how they’d questioned her father’s business decisions or her mother’s parenting choices over the years. A few of them seemed to be almost apologizing for not speaking up when her father had started collecting for his express hotel expansion or when her m
other had allowed her and her sisters to do crazy things like head to Mardi Gras unsupervised.
The trouble with being a teenager was that you only thought to push the boundaries, and when you had none, there was no telling what you could get away with. She didn’t think her parents were so lenient because of a lack of affection, just responsibility. They’d wanted babies, and had no idea what to do with children once they were too old for a nanny.
She knew neither of them were going to win a parenting award, but it was still hard to hear them criticized so harshly. After all, the results of their efforts weren’t so bad. Ava was starting her own business, the scandal had barely registered with Briana who had returned to college as if nothing had changed in her world, and then there was the woman facing them.
As apprehensive as Megan was about her abilities and reputation, she was proud of standing her ground and sticking to what she believed in. Though the boys at the car today had thought she was a whore, and a few permanently adolescent heirs to family money thought she should be to make up for their financial losses, she hadn’t actually slipped beneath the moral code she’d set for herself as a teen.
Her stomach clenched, thinking of how she’d taken the car from Malibu. Brandon would have to take it back tonight, just as she was taking back her life. If he wanted to be friends without benefits, she would stay open to that. For so long he was her best friend, and she didn’t want to throw that away as easily as he had.
Her whole life things had come easy to her. Family money opened many doors and provided the security to do as you pleased. When her parents had disappeared with her trust fund and she’d discovered that Brandon had taken up with Gemma, the rug had been pulled out from under her and she’d fallen.
Hard.
But she was getting up. The scrapes were healing, and there would be scars left behind so that she would never forget how quickly security could fall away and leave her with only herself to depend on.
She tacked on a smile as the elderly Raleigh sisters commiserated about how sad it was that her parents hadn’t thought to take their daughters with them when they fled the country. It seemed in every conversation she had to bring it back around to the Carlton Houses and how important it was that she was still here to help with such a worthy endeavor.
As they nodded their agreement, Megan looked up and found Brandon without searching. Her smile went from fake to genuine. He might not be the man she’d share the rest of her life with, but they had shared some wonderful moments.
Just as she couldn’t let the current scandal change her opinion of her mother, she wouldn’t let Brandon’s current indiscretions change what she’d thought of him. He’d been wonderful to her, her first love, her first lover, her first heartbreak.
Her shredded heart tightened in her chest at the realization that they were truly over. She hoped now they could be friends, and that he would learn to accept that they would never again be more.
…
“This is ridiculous, Megan.” Brandon waited for her to buckle into the passenger seat of her car before he started it up and headed for her dreadful idea of an apartment. “The Bentley is yours.”
“It belonged to Carlton International. I’ll get a car eventually.” She folded her hands on her lap as prim as if she were one of the nuns at the parochial school he’d attended.
“Why do you insist on doing everything the hard way?”
“Just because I don’t want to do things your way, doesn’t mean it’s the hard way.”
“You’d be doing me a favor if you let me help you. I go crazy thinking of all the things that can go wrong with this little independence plan of yours.”
She huffed a breath and stared out the window. Brandon gripped the steering wheel, wishing for all he was worth that she weren’t so damned stubborn. A woman who knew her own mind was attractive in most circumstances, but this was maddening.
“How are you going to get Cash if you don’t have a car?”
“I’ll pick him up after my shift at the coffee shop and we’ll walk. It’s good exercise.”
“You have to work tomorrow?”
“Today, technically.” She tapped the clock on the dash. “In three hours.”
“That’s insane.”
Megan shrugged. “It doesn’t usually feel early because I’m getting off my shift at the bar.”
“And how do you plan on getting to work without a car?”
“The same way I have for the two months before you tried to ride in on your white horse. I’ll take the bus.” When she pushed her hair behind her ears he noticed a slight shake to her hand.
“It would be safer if you would use the car.”
“I’m safer in that neighborhood than the car is.”
“Yes, but I can replace it.”
The silence hung heavy between them as he navigated the freeways, still sprinkled with traffic even at the late hour. He’d agreed to take her home only after she’d threatened to leave the car at the hotel and take the bus.
He’d hoped to use the drive from Beverly Hills to Pasadena to talk her into coming home with him, but she wasn’t playing into his hand. Hadn’t since he’d led her back into the ballroom.
Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to build her confidence back up. If he’d led her out of the hotel before she’d had time to rally, she probably would have given in and given up on this plan to make it completely on her own.
“You know, Meg, everyone needs help now and again. You can’t live in a bubble.”
“I know. My bubble burst.” She gave a sad laugh at her attempt at a joke. “I can take care of myself, maybe not to the level at which I was raised, but most people don’t live like that. Most people live like I do, worrying about the rent and having to wear the same old dress to parties.”
“Your life is not a social experiment. I have complete confidence that you can continue on like this indefinitely. I also know you well enough to know that you’re miserable like this. Life’s too short to waste simply proving a point.”
“I won’t do this forever. I miss my sisters.” She drew in a deep breath that tugged at an emptiness deep in his soul. The sigh that followed was long, and sounded too much like defeat. “After the funding is secure for the houses, I think I’ll head to Oregon to see Briana.”
“You’re going to run even farther away? You think that will help?” His ears prickled as red-hot rage flashed through him. She wasn’t just running away from the scandal, she was running away from him.
“She really seems to like it there, and she swears it doesn’t rain half as much as people think.”
“Is this the part where I beg you not to go?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone.
“I hope not. It would help more if you told me to have a nice life.” She swiped at her cheek and he resisted the urge to pull the car over.
“Your life won’t be nice without me in it.”
“That’s a bit egocentric, even for you.”
“When are you going to stop punishing me for something that isn’t even my fault?”
“Probably about the time you realize that what happened was completely of your own making.”
“You think I should have let some stranger come in and take the hotels? If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else, and they wouldn’t have cared enough to keep the original hotels together. Your family history has always meant so much to you. I thought you would want them.” He turned down her street, the flashing lights atop police cars making him squint. He banged his hand on the steering wheel. “Do you see? You are not safe here.”
“As if there have never been a few police cars outside your parents’ estate. I’m sure they’re just here breaking up some party.”
“In this neighborhood I doubt the police have time to bother with noise ordinances.” He pulled along the curb behind one of the pa
trol cars and killed the engine. He turned towards her to explain that under no circumstances could he allow her to stay here, but before he got a word out one of the bodyguards knocked on her window.
Megan screamed and nearly jumped out of her skin, proving to him that no matter her bravado, she was not prepared for this.
“Hey,” he said, taking her hands in his. “It’s okay. I want you to stay in the car while I find out what’s going on.”
Her thin brows knit together when he climbed out of the car, but she didn’t follow, so at least she’d heard that much. He stepped up on the curb, nodding at the men he’d interviewed personally.
“Any idea what happened?” Brandon asked, glancing back at the car. Megan sat stark still, staring straight ahead.
“Break in, about two hours ago,” the younger of the two men spoke in low tones, barely above a whisper. “It took the police over an hour to respond.”
His throat tightened. “Was it—”
The older man nodded, cutting off the question. “Six boys who’ll have to spend some time in the adult system. Word is they got bored while waiting for her to come home and did quite the number on the apartment.”
A kind of fear he’d never imagine possible washed over him, spiking his bloodstream with adrenaline and ice. He stared up at the windows of her apartment, watching shadows move behind the curtains. His mind started to play snippets of scenes of what might have been, and he struggled to stop them all. His stomach twisted in a series of knots that would have held a fifty-foot sloop.
“I called it in and waited. I would have stopped her if she’d come home alone.” The younger man’s words drifted in, but Brandon could only register them with a nod.
A hollow banging rang out and he looked up to see a uniformed officer shouldering a pimpled teen down the cement stairs on the side of the building. The handcuffed kid’s baggy jeans and over-sized shoes seemed to be tripping him up. If it weren’t so terrifying, it might be comical.
The Billionaire's Private Scandal Page 9
