Forced to Forget_Blackmailing the Billionaire Series

by Tasha Fawkes

  Yep, I’d say I’m screwed.

  Chapter 2

  Angela

  I sigh as I wander over to the window and gaze out. I’m back in Boston for the first time in ten years, and I’m not sure how I feel. It’s nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of New York, but being back here just resurfaces so many old memories that I’m not sure I’m ready to face. I walk back over to my suitcase and sit down on it, glancing around my empty apartment.

  The idea had been I give the moving company a few days head start to set everything up so when I got here, it was all ready for me to just move in and relax. But of course, they lost the moving van. Well, they didn’t lose it. It was accidentally sent to the other end of the country, which is as good as losing it, in my opinion. So for the next day or two, I have to make do with what’s in my suitcase. I could check into a hotel, but the main thing stopping me from doing that is that I really can’t be bothered doing anything that involves effort. God, I sound so lazy. I swear it’s the travelling that’s made me like this. I lay back against the hard wooden floor and stare at the ceiling, an empty feeling forming in my stomach.

  Where the hell did my life go?

  It feels like only yesterday that I graduated from Harvard—my father’s choice in school, not mine. I finished top of my class, with honors, scoring the highest on my final exam than anyone has in the past decade for my major—my father’s choice in major, not mine.

  Are you seeing the pattern here?

  Don’t get me wrong. I do love my job, but the constant, unrelenting pressure from my dad to be the best is tiring. Regardless, I made the most of things and I worked hard to establish my career as one of the toughest investment consultants in the country. Things are going well. I have a waiting list for my services going well into next year, and then I left it all to move over here.

  You think my father would be pleased that I’ve done everything he’s asked of me, but he isn’t. No matter what I do, there’s always the expectation that I will do better next time. Nothing would ever completely satisfy him, not where I’m concerned, because there is always more I could’ve done.

  Like accepted the offer William Harris put to me four years ago.

  Dad pushed so hard for me to accept that role, but it didn’t feel right. I was just starting out my career and I wanted to explore my capabilities. I didn’t want opportunities handed to me. I wanted to earn them. And I did earn them, but at the expense of my relationship with my father. The more I think about our relationship, the more I realize how toxic it is at times. He's the reason I'm so driven and while that can be a good thing, it's also a hindrance because it affects so many other aspects of my life.

  He wasn't always like this. Growing up, I was sick a lot, which meant that I was in and out of the hospital all the time. It was just him and I, so he was very protective of me. I guess he never broke out of that habit. I can’t blame him for that. He gave me a lot of support as a child and made me believe I could achieve anything. It’s funny how that belief turned into pressure as I got older.

  The thing is, I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions and learn from my mistakes, but for some reason I can't quite get that through to him. He tries to control everything, from who I work with, to who I date. None of my boyfriends, not that there were many, were ever good enough for him. Not that they were ever around long enough to really find out.

  God, could I even call them boyfriends?

  My relationship history can only be described as is a wasteland of failed relationships and broken hearts—mostly mine. My father used to tell me that it was a necessary sacrifice, that you couldn't have both a career and a relationship, but I'm not sure about that anymore. I see plenty of people who manage to have both. If they can do it, then why can’t I?

  Maybe being here is exactly what I need right now.

  The distance apart will do us both good. Not only that, the break from my usual work will do me good too. I'm so tired of the high pressure environment that goes hand in hand with dealing with top firms in New York. After a while, it really takes its toll on you, especially for someone in my condition. I told myself when I took this job that I’d look after myself. I’d counteract the extra stress with more vacations, and time off when I needed it. I can't remember the last time I had a day off, let alone a vacation.

  Maybe that's how I should view this, as a vacation.

  I smile at the thought. Don’t get me wrong, I'm not expecting this to be easy. Far from it, actually. I know enough about the Harris family to expect William Harris’s two grandsons to be younger versions of their difficult, selfish and vindictive grandfather, so I'm not looking forward to working with them at all. I’ve had my share of difficult clients, ones who don’t want to listen to my advice because they think they know better, but I get the feeling that the Harris family are a on a completely different level.

  But, I agreed to do this, so I’ll do my best to get this foundation where it needs to be. I have to admit, it's a nice feeling to have my father pleased at me for once. As much as I want him to give me some space to grow, hearing how happy he was when he heard that I was going to be consulting for the Harris’, made me feel good. I frown, because I'm sure there's more to his relationship with the Harris family than I understand, but I’m not about to go digging for information. I’ve done that before and regretted it.

  I sit up, wincing as my back goes into spasms. Five minutes lying on that floor is more than enough. I grab my phone and find the nearest hotel, and book myself in for two nights, then I grab my suitcase and then lug it back downstairs.

  I walk outside and catch a cab—even though the hotel isn’t that far away. It’s been a long day and I’m feeling lazy. That and my suitcase doesn’t have wheels. The driver frowns at me when I give him the address.

  “It’s like two blocks that way,” he mutters, shaking his head.

  And I thought Manhattan taxi drivers where assholes. There goes his tip.

  He pulls up outside the hotel a few minutes later, muttering under his breath as I get out and retrieve my suitcase. I hand him my credit card, declining the option to leave him a tip, then I turn on my heel and stomp inside. My annoyance melts away the second I walk through those doors, because holy shit is this hotel stunning. Its huge, and the amount of flowing through it…I shake my head as I walk up to the desk and smile at the receptionist.

  “Hi. I’m checking in for two nights?” I say, handing her my card.

  “Your name?” she asks in a pleasant voice.

  “Angela Reece,” I say.

  “Lovely. You’ve been upgraded you to one of our spa suites,” she says with a smile, handing me a keycard. I grin, because that sounds like exactly what I need.

  “Thanks,” I say, eager to get up there and relax.

  I take the elevator up to my floor then let myself into my room. It's absolute heaven, and even nicer than the rest of the hotel. Maybe I should just cancel the lease on my apartment and stay here. I chuckle at that, because Dad did offer to cover my rent while I was in Boston. Just when I think things can't get any better, I walk through to the bathroom and gasp.

  Holy shit.

  From floor to ceiling, it’s Italian marble, with a huge bath right in the center of the room... I walk over to it and immediately start to fill it, because I can't wait to immerse myself in the water. Talk about luxury.

  While I wait for the bath to fill, I take a peek at the mini bar, cracking open the top on a tiny bottle of vodka. I drink it back, feeling giddy as the alcohol hits my system.

  I strip off my clothes and step into the water, laying myself back, staying in there until I start to fall asleep. I stand up and reach for my towel, wrapping it around me. I walk over to the bed and sit down, a smile fixated on my face. I feel more relaxed and calmer than I have in weeks. All that tension and pent up frustration has melted away.

  And then I remember I haven’t called my father and just like that, all the negative feelings return with a ve
ngeance. Oh well. It was good while it lasted. Sighing, I dial his number and wait.

  “Angela,” he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I expected a call from you much earlier than this. Is everything okay?”

  “It's fine,” I say, forcing myself to smile. Even though he can't see me, I figure if I can pretend I’m happy, maybe it will resonate in my voice. “I just had a bit of a drama with the moving van getting lost.

  “What?” he says, alarmed. “Why didn't you call me?”

  “Because you couldn't have done anything,” I say with a laugh. “You’re two hundred miles away, remember?” I remind him. “And besides that, I'm fine. I checked myself into a hotel. I'll stay here for a couple of nights, until they sort this out.”

  “Well, you still should've called me,” he chastises.

  I shake my head and swallow a groan, because even now, in a completely different state to me, he’s still controlling me.

  “Dad calm down,” I say. “It's fine, I'm fine and there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

  “If you say so,” he mutters, giving up. “Have you met with the Harris’ yet?”

  “No, I've barely been in Boston for five minutes.” I remind him.

  “Okay, well call me as soon as you do. And Angela? If you need anything, please call me. Okay? I know you’ve got this thing where you want to prove to me that you can be independent, but don’t be stupid. Okay?”

  “Sure Dad,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

  I hang up the phone and shake my head. He either ignores me or treats me like a child. I feel like I can’t win with him.

  Since I slept late this morning, hindering any chance I had of an early night, I decide to head down to the hotel bar for a drink. I sit at the bar studying the contents of my vodka and orange as I glance around. It's pretty deserted, but considering it's a Wednesday night, I guess I'm not surprised.

  My eyes stray toward the only other person sitting at the bar. He's cute. Probably a few years younger than me, but there’s something about him that makes me unable to tear my eyes away from him. When he looks up and meets my gaze, I glance away, embarrassed.

  “You look like you’ve had a rougher day than me,” he says.

  His eyes meet mine and I flush and look back down at my drink.

  “You could say that,” I say with a smile.

  He glances at me again, nodding at my glass.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Vodka and orange,” I say, working up the courage to look at him again.

  “Nice choice,” he says, ordering two of them.

  He moves up a couple of seats so that there’s only one space between us. We both sit there, enjoying our drinks, neither of us saying much. My stomach twists into knots, because I’m so unfamiliar with flirting that I have no idea if that’s what he’s doing. I’m sure I’m going to make a fool of myself by reading his signals wrong.

  “So, what brings you to Boston?” he asks, smiling at me.

  “Work,” I say with a smile.

  “Oh yeah? A conference or something?” he asks, interested.

  I shake my head. “I’ve just moved here, actually.”

  “Where from?” he asks.

  “New York,” I say with a smile.

  “Ah, a girl from the big smoke. It must be interesting for you, going from that to this,” he says.

  “Actually, it is,” I say with a laugh. “I was born here, so it’s kind of nice coming home.”

  “Nobody is ever happy to go home, unless they’re running from something.” He comments.

  “Which one would only know, based on experience.” I point out. That shuts him up. I narrow my eyes at him. “So, why are you here, drinking alone in a hotel bar if you live in Boston?”

  “You assume I live here.” He corrects.

  “True,” I admit. “Do you live here?”

  “Yes,” he says with a nod. “I’m a few blocks that way,” he says, nudging his head to the left. “This place becomes handy when I need to stumble home drunk.”

  “Does that happen often?” I ask lightly.

  “Not as often as I wish it did,” He chuckles.

  I glance at him again and smile, something stirring inside me. He’s definitely very cute. I press my lips together, my heart pounding. A new home, a new me, maybe? The old Angela certainly wouldn’t consider a one night stand, especially with someone obviously younger than me, but I’m in Boston, where nobody knows who I am. Who is going to judge me?

  All I have to say is would you like to come up to my room.

  I swallow a laugh, because this is so not me, but now the thought is in my head, I can't get it out. Every time I look at him, I imagine his hands roaming over my body. Hell, I’m thinking about him kissing me even when I’m not looking at him. I shift awkwardly in my seat, an uneasy feeling forming in my stomach. I can't believe I'm actually considering this.

  Why not? What have I got to lose?

  The worst he can say is no. Then I never have to see him again. And if he says yes, then I don’t have to see him again, either. I take a deep breath. I’m summoning up the courage to ask, when he suddenly stands up and tosses a fifty down on the bar.

  “It was nice meeting you,” he says, glancing at me. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” He walks out before I can respond.

  As I said, the story of my life…

  Chapter 3

  Nate

  I wake up early with a mild hangover and no desire to go through with the meeting scheduled for nine a.m. The same meeting Matt apparently felt the need to arrange behind my back, and text me the details of just as I was working up the courage to invite some hot chick I met at the bar, back to my place. He fucked me over twice.

  “I wasn’t going behind your back.” Matt insisted. “Henry called me to tell me it was also written in the will that you use this consultant to assist with meeting the requirements.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll be there to hear her out, but I know exactly what her recommendations are going to be.”

  I’m already regretting agreeing to meet with her. The last thing I need is some woman my grandfather appointed, telling me what areas of my foundation are sucking us dry. If she’s endorsed by him, then I already dislike her, just like I know exactly what she’s going to say.

  I sigh, frustrated and annoyed at quick everyone is to think they can give me input as to how I should run this foundation. Next my mother will be here, offering her advice. Nobody gave a shit when I wanted to set it up in the first place, not even her.

  Doesn’t anyone understand the point of a fucking charity anymore? It’s to give back to the community, not to swindle donations to make a profit. Of course the programs like the community health center and sponsoring sick kids in from overseas are going to suck dry our funds. That’s the whole damn point, isn’t it?

  Dragging myself out of bed, I have a shower, and then take my time to get dressed. I sit down for my usual breakfast of toast and coffee, my mind wandering back to last night. Matt’s text caught me so off guard that I didn’t even get her name. Maybe I could call the hotel and give a description of her. She did say she was staying there. I laugh at how creepy I’m being. Maybe while I’m at it, I can break into her room and steal her underwear.

  I’m nearly done with breakfast when my phone rings. Frowning, I dig it out of my pocket and glance at the screen. I tense when I see Matt’s name. What the hell is it now?

  “We’ll be there too.”

  “Who?” I say, confused.

  “Rex and I.”

  “At my meeting? Why?” I ask, my jaw clenching.

  “Because I’m interested to hear what she has to say,” he says. “And Rex, well Rex just wants to be part everything at the moment,” he admits. “He asked me for a job today.”

  “What?” I say with a laugh. Just the thought of that is ridiculous. Rex work? “Rex wants to work for you?”

  “Apparently,” he says with a
chuckle. “I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not at first, then he got angry at me for not taking him seriously. He said the last few weeks has changed his outlook on everything.” He sighs. “I kind of believe him. Who knows, maybe this whole thing with grandfather actually did some good? I mean, I never would’ve gotten married and had a kid if I wasn’t backed into a corner.”

  “Has Charlene forgiven you for that comment?” I ask, smirking.

  He groans. “Yes, but you have no idea how long it took. I won’t go into detail on what I had to do to make up for that one.”

  “Serves you right,” I say. “I’ll see you soon, then. I’m about to leave.”

  Matt’s already there when I arrive at my office. I frown as I walk in, watching him as he flicks through the files I have sitting on my desk. They’re all the financial records for the foundation for the last two financial years.

  “Are you right there?” I snap. I stalk over to my desk and snatch them off him.

  “Sorry,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “I just thought I might be able to give you some feedback.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need your input on how to turn this charity into a money making scheme,” I mutter. I shuffle through my papers, his presence throwing me off guard.

  “Well, you better figure it soon, or you’ll lose this place and our inheritance,” Matt mutters, shaking his head.

  I look up, just as Rex arrives. Grabbing my pile of folders, I lead them into the conference room and tell my assistant to let Ms. Reece in when she arrives. I wait anxiously for her to arrive, going through my notes for the tenth time just to keep myself busy.

  Matt sits next to me answering a text message, while Rex sits on my other side, mumbling something about God knows what. I don't listen to Rex most of the time, so I don't know what he's talking about. I’m still annoyed at the fact that they’re here, because it's not like I can't handle this on my own. They’ve both got it in their heads that I'm incompetent, that I can't do this. It just proves they have no idea what I’m capable of.