Or could it be that she truly didn’t want his money? Just him?
He touched the scars on his face.
Scarface. Quasimodo.
Impossible.
***
The office phone rang.
Without letting it go to a second ring—the assistant in her couldn’t stand to leave someone waiting—Audrey picked up the phone and gave her cheeriest, most efficient greeting. “Logan Hawkings’s office, Audrey speaking.”
“Hey, it’s me.” The soft, sweet voice of Brontë Dawson, Logan’s fiancée, was impossible to mistake. “I need to talk to Logan, but I’m glad I got you first.”
“Oh?”
“I wanted to see how things were going with your sister,” Brontë asked. “How is she doing?”
Her sister. Audrey’s mind immediately filled with mental flashes of sickly, wasted Daphne, sprawled facedown on her floor. Daphne, who was on the cover of the latest tabloid, staggering out of a club at four a.m. with coke-ringed nostrils. Daphne, who kept promising her twin over and over again that she was going to change. That this time, she meant it.
“She’s a mess,” Audrey said in a flat voice. “Nothing new about that.”
“Oh, no. Poor Gretchen. She must be taking this breakup so hard.”
For a moment, Audrey didn’t follow Brontë’s comment. “Gretchen?”
“Yes. Your sister?”
“Oh.” A hot flush crept up her face. That was right. She had two sisters. It was just that she normally didn’t have to worry about Gretchen nearly as much as she did Daphne. Gretchen was impulsive and headstrong, but she knew how to take care of herself. Daphne was a mess. “Gretchen’s having a tough time,” Audrey said. “She lost her apartment so she’s staying with me.”
“Does she need money?”
“Money’s not a problem. Daph has money. Gretchen could ask me for money. She wouldn’t take it, though. And money seems to be the least of her problems.” Audrey sighed, trying to hide her annoyance. “She just sits on my couch and cries all day long.”
“Cries? Gretchen? Really? She seems so . . . strong.”
“Well, not when she’s dumped,” Audrey said briskly, pulling out the stack of mail on her desk and beginning to quickly sort it. “She hasn’t moved from my sofa in two days. She just keeps watching bad movies and reading my books and weeping. I came home yesterday to find her sobbing her brains out at Phantom of the Opera. She kept going on and on about how Christine was a bitch because the Phantom needed her love and support.”
“Oh, jeez. That’s awkward.”
“You’re telling me.”
“You know, I never thought Hunter would hook up with Gretchen. He just seems so . . . remote.” Brontë sounded distressed. “I wish I could help her.”
“I can send her to your place for a few days.”
Brontë laughed. “Somehow I don’t think Logan wants to watch Phantom.”
Yeah, well, neither did Audrey. She had enough trouble on her hands with Daphne. Gretchen’s misery just compounded things and made her feel even more helpless. If there was one thing Audrey didn’t like, it was feeling helpless. Give her a problem she could tackle any day of the week. Emotional stuff? She was not good with that. “I’m not quite sure what to do with her.”
“Well, it’s obvious! We have to get the two of them back together. Hunter’s so lonely and Gretchen’s so bold and clever. I think she’s good for him. Logan said that he’d never seen Hunter happier than when they were together.”
Audrey tried to picture the grim-faced billionaire as happy. She couldn’t. Still, it was obvious that their breakup had devastated her normally easy-going sister. “I’m not good with match-making, Brontë. Fair warning.”
“Me either. But we’ll ask Logan to intercede. Hunter will listen to him.”
“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Audrey said drily. “You’re his fiancée. I’m merely the hired help.”
Brontë laughed again. “Okay then, I’ll handle it. Put me through to him.”
“Just get her off my couch,” Audrey said with a smile, and then patched the call through.
Having one troubled sister was plenty for Audrey. The last thing she needed were two miserable sisters living with her. If Brontë and Logan could fix the situation with Gretchen, so much the better. Audrey loved her sister, but she was helpless when it came to relationships.
Her twin was proof of that.
Chapter 13
Even a week later, Hunter still craved her.
He’d fucked up somehow; he’d offended her with his offer and instead of going back to his bed and resuming their stable relationship full of lies, she’d left him.
He felt more alone than ever before.
There was Eldon, of course, but Eldon was hired to assist him with tasks, not to offer companionship. He’d preferred that for so long, and yet now? Now the house seemed too quiet, too lonely.
Hunter hadn’t realized how quickly Gretchen had changed his life. How much he’d had to look forward to now that she was in it. When he reached across the bed, it was empty. There was no warm, cheerful smile to wake him in the morning, no one to bring him coffee before turning to her own work. No one to walk through the gardens with. No one to appreciate his efforts in the greenhouse. No one to talk over his day with. No one to caress and hold and love. No one to say bold, exciting things to shock him out of his shell.
He needed Gretchen back.
Rubbing his face to clear his mind, Hunter scanned the ever-growing list of unopened emails in his inbox. For some reason, he hadn’t had much of an appetite for work this week, and things were piling up. He scanned them with disinterest, pausing at Preston Stewart’s name. He clicked on it.
Buchanan,
It seems we’re in need of a new ghostwriter for our launch book. Any suggestions? Let me know who you have in mind.
Preston
Hunter immediately dialed the man’s phone number, his heart pounding.
“Preston Stewart speaking.”
“Why do we need a new ghostwriter?”
“Ah. Mr. Buchanan. Very nice to talk to you again. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the party the—”
“Explain to me,” Hunter said, cutting in through the editor’s niceties, “why we need a new ghostwriter.”
“Well,” Preston said. “I got a call from Ms. Petty’s agent earlier today. She’s off the project. Since we haven’t signed anything, there’s no money to collect as of yet. Kat and I were still working on negotiations—”
“What do you mean, she’s off the project?”
“I mean she quit. She doesn’t want to do it.”
“Did you offer her more money?” Gretchen needed that money, didn’t she?
The editor laughed. “Mr. Buchanan, that’s not how publishing works. I—”
Hunter hung up. He stared at the phone, thinking. Gretchen had quit. To teach him another lesson? But her agent had said she needed money. He didn’t understand.
Damn it, he didn’t understand women. He didn’t understand any of this. Frowning, he thought to himself for a moment, then stared at his monitor. He wanted to call Gretchen’s agent, see what was going on. He didn’t remember her name, though. Kat something. That wouldn’t get him very far. There were a million agents in New York City. He drummed his fingers, thinking.
Then he jolted to his feet. Of course. Logan’s assistant was Gretchen’s sister. She’d know where Gretchen went off to . . . and she’d know why Gretchen declined the contract. He wanted answers.
Hunter hit the speaker button on his phone. “Eldon?”
“Yes, Mr. Buchanan?” The assistant’s voice was as cool and monotone as ever.
“Bring the car around. I need to go out.”
He waited for Eldon to ask where. To protest. To tell him he was busy and coul
dn’t drop everything at a moment’s notice. To crack a joke.
Something.
But all Eldon said was “Of course.”
Hunter was on edge the entire drive. Traffic was bad this time of day, and he had to bite back his impatience. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his temper at Eldon since he wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Eventually they pulled up in front of Hawkings Conglomorate’s primary office building. “Wait here,” Hunter said in a clipped voice. He got out of the back of the sedan before Eldon could get out to open his door. “I’ll be back shortly.” He slammed the door to the sedan and crossed the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians. Normally he’d tense up, his nerves on edge, waiting for people to stare at his face and flinch. To stagger backward and move out of his way.
Today, he didn’t have time for any of that bullshit.
He headed into the building, ignored the lobby full of people, and headed for the elevator. The receptionist didn’t stop him because he was a recognizable face and had been here several times before. Jamming the button on the elevator, he impatiently waited for it to rise to the top floor. When it did, he stalked down the hall to Logan Hawkings’s office.
Audrey would be there. And she would know where Gretchen was and why she’d refused the contract that he’d more or less put together specifically for her.
But when he burst into Logan’s office, the secretary’s desk was empty.
Hunter gritted his teeth in frustration. Was fate working against him? He raked a hand through his hair and then pushed open the door to Logan’s office.
Logan had his feet kicked up on the corner of his desk, a headset on. He was obviously on a conference call. He frowned at Hunter’s burst into his office and toggled a button on his headset, speaking into the microphone. “I’ve had something come up. Someone send me the meeting notes when you’re done.” He disconnected the call and swung his feet down from the desk, casting an irritated look at Hunter. “Don’t you knock?”
“Where’s Audrey?” A sharp burst of fear hit him. What if Gretchen left town just like Brontë had? Logan had had hunted her down, only to find out that she was right under his nose. He didn’t want Gretchen leaving. He wanted her back, damn it.
“Probably getting my lunch from the cafe downstairs. Calm the fuck down. What’s wrong with you?” Logan’s brows furrowed.
“I need to find Gretchen.” Hunter moved in front of Logan’s desk, ignoring the chair offered to him. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace.
“So you admit that you fucked up?”
He gave Logan a scathing look. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”
Logan shrugged, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, his pose far too leisurely to suit Hunter. “I know that Brontë’s been talking to Gretchen.”
“And?”
“And,” Logan stressed, “she says she’s really upset. Cries a lot. You fucked it up, didn’t you?”
He’d thought Gretchen was angry at him. She was crying? Hunter’s heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. “What did she say?”
“First you tell me what you did.”
Hunter collapsed in the chair, frustrated with the situation. With everything. “She found out the project was a sham.”
“And that made her cry? Damn, she’s a sensitive type, isn’t she? I wouldn’t have pictured her as the type—”
“Then I accused her of sleeping with me for money.”
“Ah.”
“And then when she was packing, I told her that I didn’t care if she loved me or not. I’d pay her to use her body regardless of how she felt.” Now that he was recounting it, it sounded awful even to his own ears. “She turned it down.”
Logan grimaced. “Yeah. I’d say you fucked it up.”
“Shit.” Hunter suddenly felt weary. “I thought for sure that she was using me for my money. Her agent said—”
“Her agent thinks everything’s about money,” a tart female voice interrupted. “Or didn’t Gretchen tell you that?” Audrey strolled forward and came into sight, no-nonsense in a stern bun and oatmeal-colored tweed, her round face scowling. “Or were you too busy calling her a whore and a money grubber?”
“Audrey, this is not the place—” Logan began.
“The door was open,” Audrey replied in a cool voice. “I’m sorry. I overheard. I’ll leave.”
“No! Stay.” Hunter studied Gretchen’s sister. “What makes you so sure she wasn’t with me for my money?”
Audrey’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Because,” she bit out. “If she wanted to freeload off someone, she’d freeload off Daphne, who has millions. Or Cooper, who’s so in love with her that he’d buy her whatever she wants. Why would she need to sleep with someone for that?”
Hunter’s hands clenched into fists. Cooper. The friend who was in love with her. That bastard had better stay away from his woman.
“I suppose the better question is, what made you think Gretchen wanted you for your money?” Audrey asked. “Did she ever give you reason to think that?”
“Every time she looked at me,” he snarled. “I’m supposed to believe that she wants to be with this?” He gestured abruptly at his face, at the scars that were impossible to miss, that distorted the side of his face.
Audrey’s cold expression softened. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because I’m a monster.”
“My sister’s a romantic,” Audrey told him. “Maybe she likes monsters.”
He didn’t care. He just wanted Gretchen back in his bed. In his life. Laughing and smiling and bringing brightness and joy to every corner of his life. “Why’d she turn down the writing project? She needs the money.”
“She doesn’t need the money that bad,” Audrey said, sidling towards Logan’s desk and setting down a paper-wrapped sub, along with a soda. “She’d rather be broke than work on that project a moment longer.”
Because he’d fucked it up. He’d had a woman—a smart, funny, beautiful woman who loved him for him and didn’t give a shit about his hideous face—and he’d somehow driven her away.
He’d been so utterly convinced that he was unlovable that he’d pushed away the only person who had given him kindness and affection. He’d been so broken that he automatically assumed the worst.
But he needed Gretchen. And he’d do anything to have her return to his side. “How do I get her back?”
“Groveling,” Logan pointed out. “Take it from me. Lots of groveling.”
Audrey’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile. “That’s a start.”
Chapter 14
Gretchen turned the page in her paperback and reached for another Kleenex, weeping.
“You okay?” To her side, Cooper was scooping out coffee beans to put into the grinder. He gave her a concerned look.
“Yeah.” She sniffed and waved the paperback. “It’s just my book.”
“Sad ending?”
“Something like that,” she mumbled, dog-earing the page and tucking the book under the counter. Actually, it was a romance. Audrey read the darn things like crazy, and her house had been full of them. Gretchen had picked one up on a whim and then been unable to stop reading them. The stories were so perfect. Even though bad things happened to the hero and heroine, everything would turn out okay in the end. They always did. She’d teared up when the hero had admitted love for the heroine, and then the heroine had joyfully exclaimed that she’d loved him back as they’d galloped on horseback to the hero’s castle. The epilogue was full of sweet cuddling and hints of future babies. It was saccharine and ridiculous.
And she could not stop crying over it.
Her own relationship? Hadn’t exactly been that clean cut, that fairy-tale wonderful. She’d gotten the admission of love, but she’d chickened out. Of cour
se, then her Prince Charming had accused her of wanting him for his money, and more or less called her a gold-digging slut.
Strange how being called a whore by the man you loved tended to hurt so much, she thought wryly.
Gretchen opened up the back of the glass pastry counter and began to add some of the fresh-baked cookies she’d made to the decorative plates in the front. Some things just didn’t work out like the stories, she supposed. Some people were too damaged.
Even as she thought it, she scowled. There was no reason for her to be thinking like that. The only thing damaged on Hunter was his damn pride.
Gretchen picked off a wedge of broken cookie and tossed it in the garbage. Hunter needed to get over that hang-up about his face and come to terms with the fact that not everyone was out to get him. He needed to learn how to trust people.
“You sure you’re okay?” Cooper said, coming to her side. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then dropped his hand. “I hate seeing you so unhappy.”
“I’m fine, really,” she told him, but couldn’t force a cheerful smile to her mouth. Things were still awkward with Cooper. She’d come back to work because she needed money—though not badly enough to beg druggie Daphne—and because she was driving Audrey crazy after a week of lounging on her couch in her pajamas. Even Igor seemed to be giving her cranky looks.
But Cooper was still hovering in a way that made Gretchen edgy. Any minute now, she expected to turn around and see him ready to confess his love again. They were nothing but friends, but—
“Gretchen,” Cooper began, his voice soft.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Cooper, please don’t—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. It’s weird between us right now, isn’t it? I should have never said anything.”
He sounded so unhappy with himself that she winced. “It’s not that, Cooper. I just . . . wish we could go back to the way things were before, you know?”
Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) Page 23
