Billionaire's Secret (Carver Family)

by Lyz Kelley

  Weston watched the gray clouds swirl, heavy with rain. “What if we made this a marketing move? We’re already planning the annual fundraiser for Empower House next month. What if we advertise the donations will be used to buy the building? Do you think it would work to throw Tickman’s name around and put pressure on him to sell the building to help the people of New York?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mike’s expression sharpened as he spoke. “The plan could backfire. Someone else might slip in and buy the building.”

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.” Weston tugged at the starched white shirt irritating his neck. “Linda, please schedule a meeting with Ms. Kramer. We should make her aware of what’s going on.”

  Linda made a quick note on her computer. “Would you like me to invite the fund-raisers event planner?”

  “Not yet. I’d like to get Ms. Kramer’s input first, since she is now the Director of Empower House Network.”

  Linda glanced at him, then away, her expression even more uneasy.

  Weston sighed. “Is there more?”

  “I’m concerned about rushing Ms. Kramer’s application. Usually it takes several weeks to complete onboarding for any employee, and we’re still working on her formal background check. She’s not working for Carver International, and Empower House isn’t part of your family’s business portfolio, but we are skipping several steps of our normal hiring process. I would suggest—”

  “She’s clean.” Mike interrupted before Linda could finish. He exchanged a look with Linda that Weston didn’t quite understand.

  “Clean?” Weston chuckled. “You make her sound like a used dishwasher.” He conjured the beautiful face and friendly smile that came along with the sassy attitude. She was dozens of blocks away from the stiff, stoic faces he worked with in his everyday life. He loved her exuberance, and her fresh approach made her even more attractive. His life had been stale for so long, he craved spontaneity. Freshness. Comfort.

  Comfort? Where did that thought come from?

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and measured Linda’s concerns. Why was he moving so fast? With any other executive position, he’d be throwing up caution flags. Sometimes it took him years to find the right candidate. Followed by months of interviews and background reviews.

  Yet everything about this decision felt right. If he was going to get Empower House running the way Kirsten would have wanted the company to run, he’d have to hire someone who was as passionate as Kirsten about helping women.

  He rocked back on his heels. “Let’s continue to run with this.”

  “Okay.” Linda stood. The skepticism vanished from her face. “Anything else, Mr. Carver?”

  He appreciated his team’s trust, and would never, ever take it for granted. “No. That will do.”

  Haley grabbed her laptop and followed Linda out of his office, but Mike hovered near the door.

  Weston straightened a pile of papers on his desk before looking up. “I’m curious. Why did you tell Linda that Courtney was clean when you haven’t yet finished your report?”

  “Do you want me to finish?” Mike, hands in his pockets, tried reading Weston like any good security guy would, but Mike’s expression said he needed more information. “Seems to me you enjoy doing the research yourself.”

  Weston glanced up, then continued organizing his desk.

  Mike had a point. He had a talent for reading people, but what if he’d let his fondness for the spunky social worker get in the way? “Focus on clearing Liam first, then Courtney. We require background checks for all executives. It’s the policy I implemented. Do your thing.”

  “Okay.” Mike nodded.

  “Oh, and Mike?” He waited for his friend to turn back around. “When you get to Ms. Kramer’s background check, I’d like to know why she distrusts men. There must be a reason.” Because I sure would like to know the name of the guy who put the look of fear on her face.

  “I’m on it.”

  “Good. Thanks, Mike.”

  He turned toward the window and stared past the buildings, envisioning a brownstone tenement building in the Lower East Side with a flourishing garden on the roof. Her garden. Her beautiful face.

  The next time he met Courtney he’d bring her fresh tomatoes and basil from his garden. That would knock her off center. Give her something to think about. Something besides how much she hated men who hurt women. And especially rich ones.

  Chapter 9

  Courtney leaned a hip against the brick wall surrounding Central Park and checked her watch. 11:28. She glanced up and down Fifth Avenue, which was teeming with commuters and buses taking hordes of people from one part of town to another. Rent-by-the-minute bike racks and hundred-year-old trees lined the busy street, and the smell of hot dogs from the food truck twenty feet away made her stomach gurgle and reminded her it was nearly lunchtime.

  The cryptic meeting details Linda sent via email two days ago only provided this cross-street location. No address. No other specifics. Just a time, meeting spot, and instructions to bring along her transition plan, for which Linda had provided a template. The Carver International headquarters was several blocks south. Why couldn’t they just meet there? This whole meeting thing was odd. Very odd.

  Part of her expected a text or call from Linda cancelling the meeting. She had, after all, been stood up before by one of the almighty powerful. They worked on their own time clock, and to hell with the little people—Dave’s father’s term for his constituents.

  But she wasn’t anybody’s “little people.”

  She sipped her peach passion tea and let the fruity smell delight her senses, promising herself that if Linda or Weston didn’t show in the next seven minutes she’d leave. An extra five minutes was all she’d waste waiting on the whims of a man.

  Closing her eyes, she let the sun’s warmth sink into her skin.

  “Ms. Kramer?” a soft soprano voice called from a few feet away.

  She whipped around and took in the familiar fifty-something woman.

  Linda navigated the street and the crowds with aplomb in her two-inch pumps, a pencil-skirted business suit, and her hair sprayed to stay in a precision style hovering just above her shoulders.

  “Linda. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I must have been daydreaming.”

  “No worries. Weston wanted to let you know his conference call is running late and to extend his apologies for not personally meeting you. He will be available shortly.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Not to worry. He asked us to meet him.”

  “Here? In the park?” Her glance rolled over the lush greenery of the manicured lawns and foliage of Central Park.

  “No. Not in the park. Close to here, though. We have a short walk, if you don’t mind.”

  Courtney pressed her cool cup against her breastbone, letting the temperature cool her off. She wasn’t sure what to make of Linda’s statement, or the woman with her, who was standing a little off to the left with the unreadable expression. She recognized the tall brunette with blonde highlights from the café where she met Weston. “Haley, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry.” Linda blushed. “I forget you two haven’t met formally. This is Haley Nobel. One of Mr. Carver’s personal security advisors.”

  “Yep. That would be me.” Haley flipped her hand in a wave and then returned her attention to her cell phone. “We should get moving. Carver just texted. He’s wrapping up and we have a lot to review.”

  Courtney wondered about Haley’s distracted dismissal. Had the woman already formed a negative impression of her based on their brief meetings, or was there something else at play? Since apparently Haley could impact her life, Courtney needed to figure out how to navigate their relationship toward a more positive direction. She glanced up and down the street, looking at the late 19th century stone buildings. There were no business buildings for several blocks. However, there was a nice restaurant just around the corner.

  “Where are we going?” she
asked, not sure she was in the mood for Italian food.

  Linda shifted the files in her arms, took the lead and set a hurried pace. “If I know Weston, I expect to fulfill your dreams.”

  What an odd thing to say. Courtney hitched the strap of her backpack farther up on her shoulder as they crossed the busy intersection and walked past several busy cafes.

  She fell into step beside Linda and took in the designer architecture of the mega-million-dollar mansions on the upper east side block. Haley stayed a step behind, bringing up the rear.

  “Do you have your first ninety-day plan ready for Empower House?” Linda eased out the question, but Courtney got the impression Linda didn’t possess the casual DNA gene. She was all business, all the time.

  “I do. Plus, I’ve also brought along my policy and procedures manual. The samples might help others understand my vision for how I like to operate a shelter. I have a good understanding of what battered women want and need, and my goal is to create an environment where they can succeed. I want to—”

  “Save your speech for later,” Haley interrupted. “No doubt you’ll say the same thing to Carver in a few minutes. It would be a drag to hear it twice.”

  “Haley. Be nice.” Linda glared at the thirtysomething woman with a stare that most likely would stop a purse thief in his tracks, but Haley just laughed.

  “Don’t mind Haley. She’s been up all night working, and she gets cranky if she doesn’t get her three cups of caffeine.” Linda patted Courtney’s arm. “I have a feeling we’ll get along nicely.”

  Linda slowed her brisk pace and turned into a small courtyard complete with a bench and two large urns positioned on either side of the door. The two-foot-tall pots held manicured boxwoods fashioned in a way that reminded her of styled poodles’ tails. On any other occasion, she might find the thought funny, but today her nervous energy brought about a distracted intensity—one where she couldn’t focus on any one thing for long.

  A doorman in a double-breasted blue coat and yellow strips running down the outside seam of each pants leg, wearing white gloves, maintained a wide stance in front of ornate double doors.

  “Hello, Joe,” Linda greeted.

  “Ms. Hamilton.”

  “Joe, I would like to introduce you to Courtney Kramer. She might be here from time to time for business meetings.”

  “Ms. Kramer.” Joe tipped his navy bell cap hat in greeting. However, the way his eyes observed her, weighing each movement and tiny nuance, it was clear Joe wasn’t just a doorman. He didn’t have a badge, but his body language screamed personal security. The bulge hidden under his left arm confirmed her impression. “Nice to meet you,” Joe added.

  “Joe.” She tipped her head back looking at the sky from between the tall buildings. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “Certainly is, ma’am,” Joe said with a grin.

  Haley tapped Joe on the shoulder. “Enough with the niceties. Are you going to let us in, or what?”

  “Well, hello to you, too, Ms. Crab Cakes. Haven’t had your coffee this morning?” Joe reached for the door, one arm behind his back. Haley snickered and smacked the doorman on the belly as she entered.

  Joe grunted.

  Courtney barely registered the friendly interaction, too distracted by the decorative iron on the ten-foot doors as she walked into a grand, twenty-foot-high-ceiling foyer.

  Wow. I wouldn’t want to be the one changing the light bulbs, she thought.

  “Ms. Hamilton.” Linda turned at Joe’s summons. He pressed a finger to the earbud she hadn’t seen before. “Mr. Carver is just finishing up a call. He’s on the third floor.”

  Yep. Full-fledged security guard in disguise.

  Linda approached the ornate stair banister and began to climb carpeted stairs with what looked like little gold pineapples on the rods holding the plush wool.

  The crystal chandelier reflected off the black and cream marble floor. Oversized, espresso-framed mirrors hung on each facing wall, and on top of a cherrywood antique table sat a three-foot-tall, hand-painted planter with a floral arrangement made up of white roses, lilies, and greenery. Oddly, the fragrance of mint and lemongrass, her favorite smells, wafted through the halls.

  “This way, up the stairs,” Haley beckoned.

  “Wait, where are we going? This looks like someone’s home.” A designer’s dream home, one of those upscale jobbers seen on HGTV’s rich and famous series. Her internal alarms blared. This was no office building or historical house tour.

  Linda paused on the upper stairs and then descended a step. “I can see Ms. Kramer is uncomfortable. I told Weston this wasn’t a good idea. His next week’s schedule is packed, but maybe we can move some meetings around.”

  Next week!? Nooo. She couldn’t wait a week. She’d already spent weeks—months—trying to save her business. This was her last option. “Carver International is just down a few blocks. Why can’t we meet there?”

  Haley circled around and herded her back toward the door like she was a person who needed escorting out of the building. “I believe Mr. Carver has already told you most people don’t know he’s associated with Empower House. He would like to keep his private and business lives separate. Besides, his executive staff is preparing for another meeting this afternoon, and this is the only open spot to meet on such short notice.”

  Haley continued to step into her space and pushed her backwards. Stubbornness forced Courtney’s chin to rise and her feet to stop moving. Nobody, especially not Haley, would bully her. You can do this. For the other women. You can do this. “Let’s not keep Weston waiting, then.” She returned Haley’s staredown. “We’re already running late.”

  A smile cracked through Haley’s seriousness. “All righty, then,” she said with a slightly impressed expression. “Ms. Kramer might have what it takes after all,” she added to no one in particular.

  Without a word, Courtney slid past Haley. She didn’t like bullies, and she wasn’t about to be intimidated by one, either.

  Linda waved Courtney back to the cream-carpeted stairs with black floral handcrafted railings that led to the next floor.

  Courtney glanced over her shoulder to look at Haley, who lagged behind. “Is there a reason you don’t like me?”

  Haley chuckled and stared at her for a few seconds, then her demeanor shifted. “No offense intended, Ms. Kramer. I’m trying to figure out what type of person you are and determine if you can hold up under pressure. It’s my job. People will test you, push your buttons, and I want to see how you react.”

  “So this is a test.”

  “In a way, yes. Weston Carver is a busy man. He doesn’t have time to babysit his executives, so he hires the all-around best. It’s my job to protect his interests, and he likes to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, you like to poke the beast. In the past two years, you’ve been in the news multiple times. Taking part in an organized demonstration is one thing—getting arrested is another.”

  “If you’re talking about the homeless demonstration, I was there to help rescue a woman from my shelter. She worked a few blocks from the protest and was on her way back to the shelter when the mob turned violent, and she got trapped. Neither she nor I had anything to do with the fires or vandalism. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She rapped out her justification in a crisp, impassioned tone, but the skepticism remained on Haley’s face.

  “Still it was your face on the front page of the newspaper.”

  She gripped the railing tighter and turned. “Yes, and I owned up in front of the judge. That’s why he dropped the charges and allowed me to pay a fine.” She searched Haley’s face for malice and found none. The security professional was pushing buttons again, and she walked right into the trap. She heaved out a ball of frustration and forced her body to calm. “I learned a valuable lesson that day, and so did the women staying at my shelter. One person can put us all at risk.”

  “Ah, so you get that one person can reflect on the whole. It’s a respon
sibility Mr. Carver takes seriously, and he expects the same from his team. Let’s just say none of us like when the people we care about get hurt. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Mr. Carver.”

  “Like I could hurt a man like him,” Courtney groused under her breath, dismissing the remark, still distracted enough that she bumped into Linda’s back. “Oops. Sorry.”

  Linda’s expression had turned serious. “I’ve had the privilege of working for the Carver family for twenty-two years, eight of those years with Weston. In all that time, Ms. Kramer, you’re the only other woman besides Haley and I that he’s ever allowed in this apartment. We both had to earn his trust first, which was no small feat.”

  Courtney’s mouth fell open. It was weird how she had skidded into his life so easily.

  “And you’re the only person he’s ever talked to about anything without first having a nondisclosure or confidentiality agreement in place,” Haley added, before continuing to climb the stairs. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep Weston waiting.”

  Courtney again reached for the railing and slowed her pace, taking the time she needed to digest the interesting news flash and devise a response. Not that she had one. What could she say to the ladies that would make any sense? Both of them had shocked the crap out of her.

  But talk about shocking. The topic of their conversation walked her way in a slow, deliberate manner and put every sense on high alert.

  Jeezus, was he ever gorgeous.

  Weston Carver’s open, warm expression sent tingles down her spine. Since he was wearing brown slacks and a cream shirt with tan and red stripes, one could say he was business casual, but the relaxed grin and sparkle his eyes said relaxed and intrigued. “You made it.” He gestured toward the room to his right.

  On the granite kitchen island lay a spread of meats, cheeses, fruits, and breads. A round tray with several little glass jars of condiments and a glass pitcher of lemon water sat on the opposite edge. The overhead lights reflected off the crystal sitting on the nearby countertop.