by Lucy Score
Aiden rose and buttoned his jacket.
Oscar inched out of the room and quietly closed the door.
“If you think I’m going to let you throw away everything this family has built over a girl—”
Frankie cleared her throat and rose from her chair.
“If you have a problem with the way Aiden is running the company, maybe you shouldn’t have dumped it on him,” she snapped.
“Don’t insert yourself in family business, Franchesca,” Ferris said coolly.
“You’ll watch how you speak to her,” Aiden snapped, his voice was cold enough that Frankie shivered.
“You don’t have the luxury of dabbling in pet projects, Aiden. You have a legacy to fulfill. People are counting on you. I’m counting on you.”
“If you have a problem with my performance as CEO, take it to the board,” Aiden suggested.
Frankie moved to stand next to him. “Or, you could trust your son to do right by you and the business,” Frankie spoke up. “You may not understand or particularly like some of his decisions, but you put him in this position. Now it’s time to trust him to do what’s best for your family.”
“I know what’s best for the family. And you are not it.”
Frankie crossed her arms. “Said the guy who dumped an empire on his son and said, ‘good luck running it.’ Oh and try to turn your sociopathic half-brother into a contributing adult. I’ll be in the Caribbean.”
“I’ve given this company everything,” Ferris shouted.
“What have you given your son besides an impossible responsibility?” Frankie shouted back. “You owe him more than a job. And you know what? Even if he wasn’t your son, what kind of sense does it make to hand over the reins and then expect him to do everything with one hand tied behind his back? You’re sabotaging him because you’re doubting yourself.”
Ferris glowered at them both and snatched the newspaper off the desk. “You’d better think long and hard about the choices you’re making.” He was speaking to Aiden but pointed the folded paper at Frankie.
The message was clear. Choose family or choose hot mess girlfriend.
She felt Aiden’s hand settle at the small of her back.
--------
“Well, that was pleasant,” she said dryly after Ferris stormed out. “Are you okay?”
Aiden put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Come on,” he said, nudging her toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“I want air. And coffee.”
“Air and coffee sound good.” She watched him slide into his long wool coat, admiring the view of tailored suit, strong jaw, and unreadable eyes. “What if we run into your dad in the elevator?”
“Then you can hit him with a tray,” Aiden promised.
Oscar was sitting behind his desk, pretending to be very busy.
“Oscar, we’re going for coffee. Do you want us to bring anything back for you?” Frankie offered.
“Double espresso with soy,” Oscar rattled off without looking up from his blank word document where he was typing gibberish. “Please.”
Frankie wasn’t sure if she or Ferris had scared Oscar more.
They took the elevator in silence, and Frankie let Aiden lead her through the lobby and out into the frigid first day of March.
He held her hand but remained silent on the half block walk to a café. Frankie’s nerves all but crackled. Was he ushering her off site to politely explain that things wouldn’t work between them anymore? That they’d had a good run, but family came first?
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t blame him exactly. She’d been a disaster from the start. In the time since Barbados, she had assaulted his brother, insulted his stepmother, embarrassed his entire family with a public brawl, and now was to blame for Aiden using the company coffers to get even with someone who dared act like an asshole in her presence.
Maybe she should just do it first. Thanks for all the amazing sex and being a really great, smart, funny, protective boyfriend, Aiden, but it’s time to move on…
Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears, she didn’t hear him ask her what she wanted the first time.
“Franchesca?”
“Oh, sorry. Tea. Ginger?” She needed something to calm her stomach that was currently turning somersaults.
He ordered for them and led her to a small table in the corner. Solicitously, he helped her out of her coat. If he was letting her take her coat off, was he settling in for a long-winded break up? She’d rather he just rip off the bandage and let it weep pus in the open air.
Gross.
“Franchesca,” he began.
She squeezed her eyes closed, bracing for the brush off.
But no brush off came. No words at all. She opened one eye to peek. He was watching her with amusement.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m bracing myself.”
“For what?”
“For the ‘it’s been nice knowing you’ speech.”
“That’s what you think?” he laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to beat me to the punch and dump me in the lobby.”
She blushed.
“You thought about it?” he asked, somewhere between astonished and amused.
“I didn’t know what this was. I thought you were mad. I—just shut up. Okay?”
The barista called Aiden’s name, and still chuckling, he picked up their order.
He handed her the tea and sank back down in his chair.
“Thank you.”
“For what? I’ve done nothing but create disasters since we met.”
“For doing what no one else in my entire life has had the balls to do. You stood up to my father.”
“What about your mother?” Frankie asked, blowing on the steam rising from her cup.
“Mom convinced, cajoled. She never yelled at him. Never called him on his bullshit.”
“See, this is why people become assholes. They’re insulated by trust funds or glass towers or titles, and everyone else is too scared to point out they’ve turned into a monster.”
“But you’ll call a monster a monster?”
“What’s he going to do? Go open a deli next to my parents’ and run them out of business? Kidnap one of my brothers? I’m one of the little people. Not even worth the energy of flicking me off.”
Aiden shook his head. “But you’re important to me. That makes you important to him.”
“You’re not suggesting your father would go all Elliot on me, are you?”
“Kilbourns are ruthless,” Aiden reminded her. “I’ve told you before.”
“Ruthless or not, hurting me would only hurt you. And as shitty as his attitude is right now, I don’t believe your father wants to hurt you.”
“What did you mean he was sabotaging me because he’s doubting himself?” Aiden asked, studying her over his coffee.
“A little psychology. No one walks away from their empire without worrying that they’re making the right decision. He doesn’t know who he’ll be if he’s not part of that empire anymore, and that reality is hitting him.”
“So you pushed the button?”
“I Aidened him.”
“When did you start playing so dirty?” Aiden asked, taking her hand in his and tracing his thumb over her palm.
“When I started hanging out with the ruthless, pillaging Kilbourns.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Aiden checked his phone for messages from Frankie as he headed toward his waiting car. He’d just wrapped another round of meetings with management in Goffman’s app development firm and could feel the excitement of momentum. With a few tweaks to the corporate structure, an overhaul of terrible existing policies, and a rebranding under the Kilbourn umbrella, he could see a very bright future for the company.
His father would have to eat his words on this deal eventually.
He was just opening Frankie’s
text when he collided with someone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady the woman.
“Oh, Aiden!” Margeaux, the bitchy bridesmaid from Chip and Pru’s wedding, stared up at him, her eyes welling with tears.
Of all the people to smack into on a busy sidewalk, it had to be the one who would probably sue him or try to blackmail him into bed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked curtly, looking her over. She wore a camel-colored wool coat. Her blonde hair was curled in thick ringlets that hung down past her shoulders. Her missing eyebrow had mostly grown back.
She gripped him by the lapels of his coat and threw herself against his chest. “I just need a friendly face,” she said in a tremulous voice.
Aiden looked over at his car and sighed. So close.
“I just don’t know what to do! My boyfriend and I just got into a fight, and he left me here,” she said, her voice pitching into a wail.
Aiden gritted his teeth. She was a horrible human being but a horrible human being in need. “Can I offer you a ride?” he asked.
She nodded, looking up at him as if he were her own personal hero. He didn’t like it. There was something slippery about this woman. Like an eel. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the analogy.
He opened the door for her and, with a glance over his shoulder, slid in next to her. She crowded him on the seat, leaning against him. “Where can we drop you?” Aiden asked briskly.
“Oh, Fifth and East 59th. Please.” She added the word like it was an afterthought. It sounded foreign from her lips.
She was fiddling with her phone, still leaning too close. He pulled out his own phone, using his elbow to dislodge her from his side, and scrolled through his messages. Frankie was leading another social media workshop, and thanks to her known association with Aiden, enrollment had skyrocketed with small business owners hoping the Kilbourn fortune would spread through osmosis.
Frankie: I think they’re half expecting you to come strolling through the door doling out money bags.
Aiden: I should stop by with my money bags. I seem to have an excess of it since my girlfriend won’t let me spend it on her.
Frankie: Funny guy. Gotta go teach people how to geographically target their Facebook ads.
Aiden: See you tonight, beautiful.
She responded with a heart emoji. And Aiden eyed it feeling like a king. She didn’t know it, but she was falling for him. He just had to wait for the right time to bring it to her attention. And possibly come clean that he’d come to the conclusion weeks ago.
He was in love and, for the first time in his life, thinking about next steps in the relationship department.
He sent a glance in Margeaux’s direction. She was reclining on the opposite side of the car, a sly smile on her face as her fingers flew over her phone’s keyboard.
“So, you had a fight with your boyfriend?” Aiden asked, not really caring. But they had fifteen blocks to go, and her change in attitude unnerved him.
“Hmm?” she said, looking up from her screen. “Oh, yes. A fight. And it’s the last one as far as I’m concerned. I deserve better, and I’ll see that I get it.”
“Mmm,” Aiden murmured noncommittally. From his limited experience with Margeaux, she deserved to have lemon juice poured into paper cuts every day for the rest of her miserable life. But who was he to judge?
He had Frankie, and that was all that mattered. There would be no more trading one girlfriend for another, one heiress for another. He had what he wanted. Finally.
Aiden briefly entertained the idea of sending Goffman a thank you card for being an asshole.
He was feeling confident in the future. Franchesca was finishing up her MBA in the next two months, and they’d been discussing what she’d do professionally afterwards. He’d hoped she’d consider a position with his company. She’d laughed in his face when he suggested it. But he was persuasive. He could wear her down. And he could use her. Even if she didn’t want to work with him directly, he had a number of new smaller acquisitions that could use her energy. She liked the small business arena. Maybe he could build something for her to manage?
He’d bring it up again in a week or so and test the waters.
“Here we are,” Morris announced from behind the wheel. Whatever business Margeaux had was in a pricey art deco hotel. Morris hustled around and opened the rear door. Aiden stepped out and offered Margeaux his hand.
“Best of luck to you, Margeaux,” he said.
“I don’t need luck,” she said with a smirk and then raised on her tip toes to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “See you around.”
She strolled into the hotel. Aiden shook his head.
Morris gave a shiver. “That one there’s an evil one,” he announced.
“You’re not wrong,” Aiden agreed.
Once a bachelor always a bachelor
Aiden Kilbourn caught sneaking into hotel with socialite
Aiden Kilbourn’s girlfriend devastated by affair
Chapter Fifty-Five
Frankie locked the front door of the development center behind her and shouldered her bag. It was cold and dark. A typically depressing March evening. But she had Aiden and takeout to look forward to in a few hours. She’d let that thought keep her warm on the walk home.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but before she could dig it out, a shadowy figure pushed away from the wall one storefront down.
“Well, if it isn’t my old friend Franchesca,” Elliot Kilbourn said slyly, falling into step with her.
“How’s the schnoz, Elliot?” she asked breezily. There was only one reason Elliot would be waiting for her. Trouble.
“I snore now, thanks to you.”
“Consider it a souvenir that reminds you not to abduct people.”
“Did you know that I’m not the only Kilbourn with dirty secrets?” he asked. His gleeful tone put her on edge.
Frankie stopped mid-stride. “Look. Let’s just get this over with, okay? I’ve had a long day. Just drop the subterfuge and spill it.”
“I came to offer my condolences,” he said, grinning devilishly as if he relished every word. “The news is breaking right now.”
He handed her his phone and Frankie gave the screen a careless glance.
Once a bachelor, always a bachelor. Aiden Kilbourn throws over girlfriend for hotel fling with socialite.
The pictures. God. The pictures. Aiden with Margeaux Fucking Assface in his arms on a city sidewalk. Their heads were tilted toward each other, faces serious. It looked… intimate. Aiden in his limo with Margeaux cuddled up against his side. She was pouting for the selfie while he looked at his phone. Then Aiden and Margeaux getting out of the car in front of a hotel and Margeaux leaning into him, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
Frankie was going to murder someone. She just wasn’t sure who to start with.
Wordlessly, she handed the phone back to Elliot.
“He’s not the guy you thought he was,” Elliot said. “He’s selfish and cruel and only cares about himself.”
Frankie started to walk away. Her gut was roiling with anger and pain and confusion.
“There’s a SnapChat video too. But you probably don’t need to see that,” he said, picking up the pace to keep up with her. “And there’s one more thing.”
Frankie pinched her lips shut. She was going to throw up. Or scream. Or both.
“Aiden’s the reason Chip dumped your friend all those years ago.”
“What did you just say?” Frankie came to a screeching halt.
“He and Chip were talking at my parents’ house. They didn’t know I was around. They never did.”
Frankie saw the bitterness in Elliot’s eyes.
“Chip mentioned he was thinking about proposing soon. But Aiden didn’t like that. He told Chip that he didn’t think Pruitt was a good match. That she wouldn’t be the kind of partner he’d need. Chip didn’t see what he was doin
g, but I did.”
“What was he doing?” Her phone vibrated again, and she knew without looking it was Aiden.
“He was pulling strings like a puppet master. Kilbourns learn it from birth. How to make people do what you want them to do. He ‘guided’ Chip to the same conclusion, telling him Pruitt was too immature, too needy. She wouldn’t be the right partner for him.”
“Why would he do that?” Frankie asked, her voice barely a whisper. Why would Aiden ruin Chip’s happiness? Why would he set into motion years of misery and pain for Pruitt?
“Who knows?” Elliot shrugged. “Maybe he wanted her for himself? Maybe he couldn’t stand seeing his friend happy? The point is, he’s not the man you thought he was.”
“Go home, Elliot,” Frankie said quietly. A ton of bricks had just leveled her. And worse, she hadn’t seen them coming. She should have known better.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he offered, still smiling over whatever triumph he’d achieved by carving her out and leaving her bleeding.
“No. You’re not.”
She walked away, and this time, he didn’t stop her. He left whistling a happy little tune.
Frankie’s phone vibrated again. She pulled it out. Aiden.
He’d called four times so far. Pru called too. But she wasn’t prepared to talk. She needed to go someplace. And home was no longer an option.
He’d find her there.
She turned around and let herself back into the darkened office. Locking the door securely behind her, Frankie took her laptop upstairs to the conference room and sat in the dark.
She brought up the first gossip blog she could think of and forced herself to read the article, to look at the pictures. “Oh, shit. There really is a video,” she murmured to herself. Frankie didn’t consider herself a coward under the worst circumstances, but it still took her nearly five minutes to push play.
