by Demi Damson
The last thing in the manila folder was a small scrap of paper, but it was the most important: a check stub dated May 2003 for $10,000. The recipient was quite clear: Kenny James.
She sat back. The contents of the file exceeded her wildest dreams. This was proof. Kenny James of the EPA had been paid $10,000 right before George bought the supposedly useless brownfield site. And it wasn’t just some kind of insider trading, this was blackmail.
She quickly made sure she had photographs of all of the file contents. Then she created an email to her father and attached the photograph of the check stub and, after only a moment’s hesitation, the scantily-clad stripper. If Lovett was watching the wireless network, it was too late to stop her anyway. After she pressed send, she put everything back into the folder and slid it into the drawer, taking care to ensure it was in the right place. Hopefully no one could possibly know what she’d found—not until she dropped the facts like a bomb.
Her heart twinged a little at the thought of Jordan. But he was going to hate her anyway when he found out she lied, the fact that she brought down his father was just icing on the cake.
She stepped out of the office, carefully closing the door as silently as possible. It made a sharp click. As she turned into the corridor, she saw Jordan standing there with a poker raised over his head. Behind him was Lauren, with a triumphant smile on her face. She looked like the cat that had eaten the cream.
“Why are you going through my father’s office?” Jordan’s eyes were wide with shock. His voice was as cold as ice as he lowered the poker.
Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. “I can explain,” she said, even though she knew it was hopeless.
Lauren laughed. “Oh darling. What could you possibly say to explain?” She was still smiling. “Jordan, she’s a liar and a thief.”
Jordan looked like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Pack your things. I’ll find someone to drive you home. Immediately.”
“But—” Charlotte had no idea what she could possibly say and her words drifted to nothing.
He turned on his heel and pushed past Lauren, muttering something under his breath.
Lauren smiled sweetly at Charlotte again. “Money grubbing little bitch, that’s what he just called you. In case you didn’t hear him.” She tilted her head. “It was a pretty good act, little poor girl just looking for love. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see through it from the start. Just a shame you couldn’t keep it up.”
Jordan’s steps echoed in the foyer. Lauren broke into a clumsy run. “Don’t worry, I’ll console him.” Her high heels clicked on the marble tiles as she dashed to the entryway.
Charlotte was frozen to the spot, barely able to breathe, let alone move. She could hear them in the foyer.
“Darling, I’m sorry. You must be devastated. Here, let me give you a hug.”
“Get off,” he snapped. “Look, if you really want to help, then organize Frederick to drive her back to Riverside.”
“I’d be glad to,” she cooed. “She’ll be out of here within the hour.”
“Good.”
Charlotte heard the front door open and then slam shut a second later. Jordan was gone.
Chapter Thirty–Four
Hopelessness Is Not A Virtue
Charlotte spent a week in bed, refusing to deal with anyone or anything. And then she got up and threw herself into her business. Every morning felt like a fresh razor against her heart but she couldn’t afford to sit around feeling sorry for herself. She had a life to live and a business to grow.
If she’d learned one thing from Jordan, it was that focusing on the bigger picture was important.
No, the one big thing she learned from Jordan was that it was a bad, bad idea to sleep with a client. But the other important thing she’d learned was she had to stop focusing on the little details if she wanted to build her business.
She didn’t just want one corporate contact, she wanted a constant stream of work, and she couldn’t rely on being able to go into every company and pitch her services. She couldn’t even get her foot in the door without lying at most places and Charlotte Nichols was done with lying. What she needed was make people come to her.
To do that, she needed to stop trying to personally find someone who needed PI services at the moment she happened to call them. Instead, she needed to make it easy for them to find her.
She had the money from Jordan to help get started with her plan. She was surprised when the money arrived; she’d given him her bank details when they’d negotiated her contract, but after getting thrown out, she didn’t really expect him to pay her. She thought about returning it but that would mean talking to him. She wasn’t going to give herself an excuse to do that.
It was bad enough she found herself pushing thoughts of him out of her mind on a regular basis: the passion in his voice when he talked about how to make the company better. The rough feeling of his chin in the mornings. The way he’d look at her sometimes, as if she were a gem he couldn’t believe he’d found.
Well, she’d certainly messed all that up, hadn’t she?
For the millionth time, she shoved the memories out of her mind and tried to focus on the advertising training course she’d signed up for.
Her mind drifted back of its own accord. If only...
If only what? If only his father hadn’t sabotaged her father’s career? But then, that was hardly Jordan’s fault, was it?
If only Lauren hadn’t heard her in the office? She’d relived that day so many times. By now it was clear what the soft click she’d heard had been: Lauren must have passed by the office, noticed someone moving around inside, and peeked in. And then baited Jordan into catching her. Not that she could blame the woman.
No, there was no point in talking to Jordan, although she thought about it all the time. She had stopped in front of the company, hoping he might come out. She would pretend it was just a coincidence. “Oh, I was just walking past. My friend works near here and asked me to meet her for lunch, nothing to do with you.”
But everything was to do with him.
She sighed and went back to trying to write her advertisement. He would probably be very happy with some beautiful rich girl from a local family who would hang on his arm and talk about charity fundraising galas and the best brand of gourmet kitchen appliances and how to get your staff to do what you want. That wasn’t her.
He wanted someone who would drop everything for him. He thought she would be grateful to quit her job and just move in. She shook her head. It was like he didn’t know her at all. But then, she hadn’t really given him much of a chance, on that front. She just didn’t think it was going to end up like this. The truth was, when she devised her plan, she hadn’t thought ahead to the possible aftermath at all.
She certainly never thought it would make her feel like someone had crushed her heart with his bare hands.
She never thought she’d tear up just looking out the window, knowing she’d never feel his arms around her again.
Some other no doubt perfectly sensible woman would get her white picket fence and totally look the other way when Jordan’s step-mother flirted with him and they’d have a gaggle of kids and she’d numb the pain with gin until he retired and took her to the Caribbean once a year for a break from the tedium of her life.
She gritted her teeth. That wasn’t what Charlotte wanted and that wasn’t what she was going to settle for. Even if it would mean having Jordan. Even if it meant waking up next to him every morning and hearing that dark rumble of his voice before coffee. Even if...
ENOUGH. She put herself back to work writing an introduction to her services that she could post to work networking groups. She had all the details for a Facebook ad—because she’d understood, now, that she didn’t need to pitch investigations at the top of the company. The CEOs were all too busy to talk to her. She needed to be talking to the staff, because they were the ones who knew what was wrong. And she could make them the ones who solved the problem that the CEO didn’
t even know he had.
She looked for management forums and other places where sales and admin staff hung out and discussed their work issues. She even found one for Lovett Industries specifically, and thought about putting a post in there to introduce herself and see what happened. He wouldn’t even know that Charlotte Nichols was her and wouldn’t it be funny if they pulled her in to investigate something?
She imagined the look on his face. “What are you doing here?” Followed by calling security, no doubt. It wasn’t one of her greater ideas. She deleted the post draft and moved on to the next group.
The people he relied on would have to find someone else.
She made a list of common issues: faked sick leave, missing equipment, staff disappearances, corporate espionage. The latter was a bit of a stretch but made the whole enterprise sound a bit more serious. Jane Bond. She put herself out there so people knew she was ready and willing to supply them with information and data—all legal, no shady business.
When she finished, she closed the laptop with a resounding click. That was the other thing she’d learned from Jordan: turn off the work when you can, don’t let it trickle into every hour. She phoned her mother and asked what they were having for dinner. Her parents would be thrilled to see her and it was better than eating alone. She remembered when Jordan had promised to cook for her—and he was probably an amazing cook. Not that she’d ever find out.
There were so many things they’d planned, even though they’d only been together for a few days. She thought they could have had fun together, in a different world. If he wasn’t Jordan and she wasn’t Charlotte, maybe. And especially if his father wasn’t George goddamn Lovett.
She should never have introduced herself. She wished she’d never met any of them.
She grabbed her stuff and drove to her parents, hoping to leave the thoughts of him behind.
It didn’t work. It never did.
Chapter Thirty–Five
Alone Again, Naturally
Jordan Lovett did not understand why, over a week since that disastrous weekend, he kept thinking that he saw her. Waiting in line at the cafeteria. Standing out with the smokers over by the store. Dancing at the overly loud night club he’d gone to hoping to distract himself. He kept hearing her voice nearby, a soft sound on the edge of his hearing. And he kept hoping it would turn out to actually be her, magically appearing before him so he could make it all better. But what would he say? “I know you were desperate, please let me help you.” Stupid wishful thinking.
She didn’t want his help. If she wanted his help, all she had to was ask. Clearly everything about her was an act with the goal of stealing from his family. He didn’t even know what she wanted. Lauren thought she was after the jewelry. George figured she was hoping to find the company check book. For all Jordan knew, she was just searching the drawers of the desk for spare change.
Lying alone in the darkness of his downtown apartment, he could almost make excuses for her. She must have had a rough life. Working as an escort—that must have a decision made in pure desperation. The idea of her going back to it, taking off her clothes for the likes of Buddy, well, that was enough to make him feel physically ill.
All of which went to prove the woman he thought he knew wasn’t who she was at all. Charlotte Jones wasn’t even her real name, he’d phoned every single one in the phone book.
Clearly, he was a total idiot.
Better not to think about her at all. He threw himself into work instead, happy he was making headway on that front at least. It helped that his emotional reservoirs were drained. The truth was, he needed to use his management team more and stop the reliance on himself. Every person in the company wanted his eyes on their project. He wished he could be involved in everything. But he couldn’t, he was spreading himself too thin and he was going to have to make some changes. He focused on maximum efficiency and firm decisions. Maybe George was right, he spent too much time thinking and not enough time doing. Maybe he’d been too soft-hearted. But not anymore.
The other truth was he didn’t dare allow himself any free time. Not while Charlotte was still haunting his dreams. When he allowed his mind to wander, he’d remember her hair falling in her face again, and he’d come undone. He’d dropped his morning run. He couldn’t go out without remembering the way she kept running that morning, even though she was clearly falling over with exhaustion. She never gave in, never gave up. He just couldn’t believe she was nothing but a common thief, looking to take what she could get. But then he remembered her reaction to his proposal. She was horrified.
He kept himself busy rather than experiencing the shock of her betrayal over and over again.
He looked at his inbox and started working through them, writing curt responses to everyone who needed them. Usually he tried to add in a positive line at the end, encouraging people to push their limits and look for new solutions, a rallying of team spirit. But he had no time for motivational words lately. No energy left for making people feel the company appreciated them. Maybe his dad was right all along and this was where all businessmen ended up.
He bet they hadn’t all fallen for someone as amazing as Charlotte. Not that he’d fallen for her. No, it was just a few stupid days, a fling, and now he was swooning like a moonstruck teenager over a woman who did not give a damn about him.
She hadn’t even tried to explain, not that there was anything she could possibly say to make it better. Not that there was any chance that he’d listen. He’d never let her, or anyone else, get their claws into him like that again. The phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. “Buddy here to see you,” said his assistant.
Buddy barged in before he could say he was busy. “Hey big guy, hello! Looking good...” Buddy paused. “Actually know, you look like shit.” He pulled up a chair and sat down heavily into it. “What’s up? You saw the financials and we’ll be bust within a week?”
Jordan rolled his eyes and shook his head, no. He didn’t want to encourage the man.
“Hungover? No. Girl trouble?” Buddy crowed with success. “That’s it, isn’t it! Oh kiddo, you didn’t see Lauren again, did you?”
“Christ, Buddy. No. I mean yes, I saw her, but that’s not my problem.”
“Huh. You gotta get her out of your mind.” He pulled out his phone, started tapping at it. “How about I get you that number I promised you. You will LOVE this girl, I’m telling you.”
“I don’t need a girl,” snapped Jordan. “Especially not another escort.”
“Another escort? Oh boy, you dog! Go on, tell your Uncle Buddy everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell!” He tried to change the subject. “What do you mean, that number you promised me?”
“Cherise! I told you about her last week. She is the bomb. Beautiful, flexible. She can do things to that pole you can’t—”
Jordan thumped a fist on the desk, anything to shut him up. “Yes, Cherise, Charlotte, whatever her name is. Thanks a lot for that.”
“Who?”
“That woman you sent in. She’s calling herself Charlotte these days.”
“I didn’t send Cherise anywhere. You want me to?” Buddy looked baffled and then frustrated as he waved the phone under Jordan’s nose. “I’m not a mind reader, kid. You want to meet the girl, or what?”
“Or what,” said Jordan, shaking his head. “Wait. You got a picture of her?” It was stupid to ask but even after all this, he still wanted to see her. Maybe seeing her on Buddy’s phone would stop his longing, remind him of her guilty expression the day he caught her pilfering through the office.
“Sure I do.” He swiped at his phone then held out a photograph of a short woman wearing a French maid’s outfit, all pouty lips and quivering cleavage.
“That’s not Charlotte.”
“No, Jordan, it’s Cherise.” He peered at him. “Have you been drinking? Who the hell is Charlotte?”
“That’s a good question.” He stared at the photograph. The one thing he tho
ught he knew about her was wrong. He laid his hands flat on the desk to keep them from shaking. “Buddy, did you need something? I got things to do.”
“Right, sorry, sure. I can see you are distracted. I just wanted to know if we could invite the Bouncing Babes to the Christmas party. Variety act. Seven pretty girls with only about seven inches of fabric between them.”
“Sure, whatever.” He waved him away. Charlotte was not Cherise.
Buddy stood up. “We can? Great!” He bounded out the door and then stopped and glanced back. “You sure about that?”
Jordan blinked, replaying the conversation in his head. “What did you say? Seven inches of fabric? No, of course not! Get an Elvis Impersonator or an 80’s cover band or something. Buddy, don’t mess with me.”
“Someone needs to make sure you are paying attention,” chortled Buddy. “I’ll sort something out, I promise.” He held up a hand, stopping Jordan from protesting more. “I’ll make sure it’s suitably PC and boring, don’t you worry. Who woulda thought?” He was still laughing as he disappeared down the corridor.
Jordan wasn’t laughing. Charlotte wasn’t Cherise.
He replayed the conversations with her in his mind. Did she say she was an escort? No. She just said she was there about the job. What job? Who the hell was she? And what the hell did she want in his father’s office?
Jordan didn’t know, but his grief had turned back to anger. Whoever the hell she was, he was going to find out.
Chapter Thirty–Six
Business Not As Usual
Charlotte managed to get herself motivated by challenging herself to prove she wasn’t who Jordan thought she was.
Jordan thought she was a thief and a liar. She knew nothing she could say would erase that. Hell, she’d wanted to be ruthless. And it had worked. She could hardly blame him for what he thought about her. She may have gotten the information she was hoping for, but in the process, she made herself just as dirty as George. It didn’t feel like a win.
