by Allie Hayden
I stare at the waffles. Maple syrup running down the edges. So light, so fluffy.
“This may sound a bit odd,” Xander snaps, “but last Friday, we were all given notes on the project. We were all responsible for keeping our own set of notes. The problem is, sis, I’ve gone and lost them. We’ll be having a meeting soon about these notes. And I don’t want to look like an idiot. Do you understand me, Molly?”
“Uh huh, I think so.” I slurp up the drool.
Xander turns on his tablet and scrolls through something before showing me a picture album of photos of a brown folder at different angles. Things are getting a bit weird now. Why on earth would anyone have multiple photos of a single brown folder at so many angles?
“Anyway,” he continues, “I need you to take pictures of the contents of this folder and send them back to me.”
If word about a fabricated partnership got out, it could jeopardize our reputation. Things could get real ugly. I stare down at the blank space in front of me. All I wanted was a small bite of Cassandra’s famous waffles. All these problems were never anticipated.
“Molly?” Xander tries to catch my attention. “Carlyle made a huge deal about those files. He showed the documents to everyone in the boardroom, and I’m sure I’m the only one who’s lost their notes. I need you to do this for me. Can you do this for me?”
“Where is this folder?” I ask.
“He keeps it out in the open in the library. It’s the project we’re all working on, so it has to be the only thing on his desk. You should be able to see it, clear as day, right in the middle of the room. The folder has the word ‘portfolio’ on it in cursive letters like this.” Xander points back down at his screen. “I heard that all from reliable sources.”
He waves the fork in front of me like a pendulum. “Can you do this for me? It has to be a secret. These waffles smell delicious right now.”
“Yes, yes. Give them to me.”
He slides the plate back to me, and I quickly cut a corner off and dip it into the syrup. Mmmm, so good. I let the batter melt in my mouth. So worth it.
I swallow. “How am I supposed to take photos of stuff in his house without him noticing?”
“You’ll find a way, right? I think you can manage this one. You’ll be doing me a huge favor, by the way.” He leans back.
Cassandra, oblivious to our conversation, finally comes back from the kitchen and puts the orange juice in front of me. There’s pulp lining the sides of the glass so it must be freshly squeezed, which would explain why it took so long. The juice is nice and sweet and cold. Just like the feeling in my chest after agreeing to help Xander.
I guess it doesn’t hurt to take a few photos for Xander. He’s the one who helped me with the contract in the first place. The least I can do is return the favor.
12
Carlyle
Apparently, we’re getting sued.
My CFO, Jeff, looks me dead in the eye and throws a stack of papers in front of me. Apparently, we have unpaid taxes. The stack must be an inch thick, packed with legal jargon making the whole thing dry as hell. Disclaimers, history of the IRS, court protocols, evidence against us, there’s a lot. What a waste of paper, they could’ve sent it through PDF.
I groan. “Let’s get this cleared up as soon as we can. These are serious accusations, and we need to take it with seriousness. Do whatever you can to fix the accounting, and I’ll cover the media.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get my whole team on it.”
Jeff leaves the room so I can think through the situation. Being CEO is a difficult position. At this point, I’m used to all the pressure. It came as a shock for me when I first started. But I’ve learned to build a tough skin over the years.
My assistant clears my afternoon. This lawsuit will be getting all my attention. The timing couldn’t be worse. Negative press will put a dent in my potential partnership with the Stanleys. Like a game of Risk, business is a game of allies. The Stanleys are the type to do whatever it takes to survive. If that means cutting off a bad tie, they won’t hesitate.
I straighten up and flip to the first page. There are 112 pages in the testimony. One-inch margins, single spaced, all one-sided. If I get started now, I can make a large dent in it.
Time to buckle in.
There’s a lot to do today. I’ll be meeting with our family lawyer later with my mom. I know we’re going over some finances, completely unrelated to the lawsuit in front of me. There are a lot of moving pieces all happening at the same time.
The only real time I feel like I get a break from it all is when I get to see her. I’ve kind of always had a crush on her, since we were teenagers. She was the cute girl next door, always cheerful, always in a bright mood. She was the sunshine in my days when all I did was work.
We’re finally getting to know each other.
There might be a light at the end of the tunnel, but there’s still a marathon to run to make it to the end. Everything that’s happening around me came out of nowhere. My dad had a stroke, I got slapped in the face with a lawsuit, the partnership with Xander, and the fake engagement to Molly.
Oddly enough, the engagement gives me relief from the other three. I get deeper into my work, knowing there isn’t much time until my alarm goes off. I’ve learned to digest a lot of information in a short period of time. Two hours is plenty of time for me to focus hard on the document.
My phone goes off, letting me know the time has come to meet with Ma. I put hurry to collect the paper and shove it all into my briefcase. My mom will be taking a cab there from the hospital, and I’ll be driving. The lawyer’s office is fairly close to the hospital, and it shouldn’t take long for her to get there.
I run through the scenarios of the tax audit through my head. As long as we can get our stuff together and provide the last three years of our filings, we should skim by this thing. I park my car out in front of the lawyer’s office when I get there. It’s about a half hour drive from downtown LA, just along the outskirts.
Ma is already there, just like I suspected she would be.
Eugene is now our family lawyer, and I’ve met him only two or three times. So far, every impression he’s given me is good. I trust him with our financial affairs, and my parents did a good job by choosing him. My mom and I made a deal when we made a commitment to taking care of Dad’s company. I would handle everything on the business end, and she would deal with the finances and the board.
She handles the macro, I handle the micro.
We don’t sit long in the waiting room before Eugene comes to personally greet us. He takes us to his office in the back, and we take our seats around his desk.
“Sofia, good to see you again. Looking beautiful as always. And Carlyle, I hear you moved back to California. When was I expecting a visit?”
I smirk. “Nice to see you too, Eugene.”
He fixes his tie and straightens his jacket. He looks between me and my mom, back and forth. This is an important task that’s not meant to be taken lightly.
“Alright. Thank you both for taking the time to be here. As I’m aware, we want to move everything in the company’s trust to your name, Carlyle. Is that right?”
My mom chimes in, “Thank you for your time as well, Eugene. You’re right, we’re moving everything to my son’s name. He will become the sole proprietor of the company if anything should happen to my husband.”
There’s a frailty in her voice. She’s trying to be strong, but this whole thing has been taking a toll on her. Eugene takes out some paperwork from a drawer in his desk. He lays it all down in front of us. Previous clauses that were written by my parents are there. This is the first time I’ve ever seen the family trust.
“Adrian Cartier is in poor condition. What we’ll discuss and go over today will be crucial to the future of his legacy.”
I can tell Ma’s hesitant, but she knows what her duty is, she understood the responsibility of being with someone like my dad the moment she married him. We g
et down to seeing the numbers. My dad’s net worth shocks me. It’s much more than I thought. I knew we were loaded, but seeing it written out plainly on paper like that is mind-boggling.
Dad never revealed any of this to me. There are numerous personal accounts he’d hidden away. This is all surfacing now because of our current circumstances. Ma has the final say in all of the decisions in this area. She’s done a fantastic job taking care of Dad’s money, and I trust her on this one.
I sign a few documents and initial everywhere Eugene tells me to. There will be a lot more to sign, but for now, we’re able to set the next meeting for after we’re able to go through things with Dad.
“Don’t be so tough on yourself, sweetie. We’re a team now. You’ve got a lot on your plate too.” Ma pats my shoulder.
She takes her copy of Dad’s paperwork and folds it under her arm.
The news about us getting sued isn’t something my mom should know about. She doesn’t ever need to know about it. Not if I can make it go away first. I need to head straight home and go over any last bits. Ma wants to get back to the hospital, so I drive her.
The Stanleys and the Cartiers are the biggest names in real estate. We’re both major players in the commercial investment market. If we join forces, we could make an unstoppable team. I can’t let anything deter me from losing our partnership with them. Knowing I have a fake engagement with Molly makes me start to wonder if things could really be the same after our inevitable breakup.
I didn’t realize how much time we’d spent at the lawyer’s office. It’s getting pretty late into the night, and I don’t have that much energy left in me. When I finally get home, the first thing I want to do is unwind. I hang up my jacket and uncuff my dress shirt, stripping down to just my boxers. I check my notifications for the first time in over twelve hours. It looks like I got a text from Molly a few hours ago.
“Hey—haven’t heard from you all day. Is everything alright?”
There’s another one from ten minutes ago.
“Hey Carlyle. Are you doing okay?”
I text back, “Sorry, I’ve just been busy all day. I’m doing okay.”
“Really? I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Now that I think of it, having someone around right now isn’t the worst idea. Maybe Molly could help me lift the weight of the world off my shoulders. I could always power through the rest of the lawsuit papers in the morning.
I text Molly, “Do you want to come over?”
She comes back with a smiley face, saying she’ll get ready and come. I ask if she wants a ride, but she says she’ll get her own way here. I have time to take a quick shower and leave the door unlocked for her.
Today has been a sixteen-hour day, more or less. It’s been this way since I can remember. It’s not uncommon for me to have double-digit-hour days just because I work so much. I understand why Phillip ran away from this—only the strong have the stamina to constantly be grinding.
Knowing I’ll get a break when Molly gets here is a relief. Although, the night is not over, nor is the battle. I have to keep fighting.
13
Molly
When I get to his front gate, there’s a single porch light guiding me to his door.
He told me the door would be unlocked, so I let myself in.
The pitter-patter of water hitting a porcelain bathtub echoes around the empty house. I throw my purse and jacket on the couch and quietly walk in. This is the second time I’ve walked into his house with no idea what was in store for me.
If I yell his name, will he answer?
“Carlyle?”
Nope. Just the sound of water still running.
At the end of the hall where the darkness stops, I think I can see bookshelves. The room is dimly lit, but I’m sure it’s a library. I’ve never seen a room full of so many levels of books.
I’m so curious to know what Carlyle reads. He’s kind of a fascinating guy. I don’t know that much about him, but he just seems to have so much wisdom. It won’t hurt if I go tiptoeing toward the light and get a look at what he’s reading. Then it hits me—this could be the library Xander told me about.
As long as I’m quiet, Carlyle won’t hear me.
A dark shadow across the hall makes me jump. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. It looks like Carlyle frequents this area often. This might be his office too, considering the piles of paper on all four corners of his desk. The portfolio folder must be close by—this is where Xander said it would be.
The lamp in the corner gives me just enough light to squint at the titles of the papers on his desk. I ruffle through the pages, carefully placing them back where they belong. This small favor for Xander is already becoming more than I bargained for.
If I can’t find my brother’s folder soon, I’m getting the hell out of here. It’s so hard to see, I need my phone’s flashlight. But I’ll need both hands for sorting. I stand at a weird angle so I can hold the phone with my neck without it falling out. My heart is beating so loudly in my chest, I’m getting a bit sweaty. I won’t be able to make out the sound of running water if I don’t calm down.
Then, I see it. At least, that’s what my gut tells me. It’s an ordinary folder, clear as day. Just an everyday brown paper folder with the word “portfolio” labeled on the middle. I open the cover and there’s a stack of papers an inch thick.
Bingo.
I flip through the papers and snap photos of each one, making sure I get enough focus so it’s still readable. They are all pictures of buildings and houses. The folder is full of house listings ranging in the tens of millions.
I can hear the sound of running water in the background, assuring me I still have time. There is just one picture left. I’ve made it this far. I have to finish the job. I flip to the last page, and it’s a rundown observatory in the middle of the Valley. The observatory is rusty and the hedges around it are unkempt. There’s no time to think twice about what I’m doing. I snap the last picture and send it off to Xander.
The shower shuts off, and I hit full panic mode.
The fluttering of paper moving fills the room. Something falls to the floor. Three things fall to the floor. Oh god, I have to get everything in the right order, or he’ll know for sure that I was in here.
I pick everything up and straighten it all out. There are a few pages that look like they’ve flipped around, but hopefully I’ll get lucky and he won’t notice. The light is so dim in here I can barely see the documents in front of me, let alone order them the right way. I clasp the folder shut just in time for me to turn around as the lights go on in the room.
“Hey,” says a voice from the entryway.
Carlyle stands there shirtless. There is only a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest is bare. It looks like he grows hair on his chest, but he’s properly groomed everywhere. I follow the chiseled lines of his body hair all the way down to this belly button. His rock-hard abs direct me to look down…to what’s hiding underneath his towel. It’s plenty for the imagination to run wild.
I can’t stand it.
“Hey.” I bite my lip.
He mirrors me but adds an air of seduction. I fix my bra strap, pulling it up over my shoulder from my arm sleeve. It’s like my breasts are being attracted toward him. Like he’s controlling them from far away.
He smirks. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting comfortable. How about you keep making yourself at home, and I’ll finish up and get ready.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He disappears from the doorway. It really seems like he’s got it all. Handsome, killer body, down-to-earth. There’s a termination to our time together, though. So, I should really stop myself from pining over him. Thank god, I got away unscathed taking all those photos. If he’d caught me, I don’t know what I’d say. No evidence should be left behind, not even fingerprints. I take the bottom of my shirt and start wiping away at some of the edges of the folder I know I touched. It might not help that much, but it’s
better than nothing.
He comes back into the doorway, with clothes on this time. He runs his hands through his hair, slicking it out of his face and revealing his gorgeous features. The way his jawline is perfectly symmetrical complements his deep, gazing eyes. I let my guard down. My shoulders slump, and my body relaxes. He walks up right in front of me, and I look away. His touch down the side of my arm sends electricity through my bones. The way he looks at me, the way his eyes narrow, telling me I have his full, undivided attention.
He leans down and brings his face close to my ear. My breath stops short—I don’t hear it anymore.
“Thanks for coming, Molly. I needed you.”
I breathe again. The tingle in my body resurfaces. This time, stronger. It pulses within me. It wants me to break free, to defy all the rules. He’s still just inches from my face. All there is is this tiny, minuscule space between us. I get closer…and closer…and closer…
Then Carlyle turns around and walks back to the doorway, leaving me high and dry.
“Come with me.” He gestures with his head back down the hall.
He turns to the left, which is different from the living room and kitchen where I would normally go. Instead, we take a different route and end up in a dining room I’ve never been in before. There, in the open, white marble space, is an all-white grand piano. Written on the casing in gold lettering is his family name, Cartier. The traditionally black sharp and flat keys are gold.
“Wow, this is a beautiful piano.” I brush the back of my hand on the piano stool. “Do you play?”
“A little.” He sits down and beckons me to sit next to him.
His broad shoulders and arm slightly touch me, giving me a kind of comfort just being beside him. He gracefully glides his hands across the piano keys and starts building up a melody. It’s amazing how his fingers look. I’ve seen people play piano before. But I’ve never been so up close and personal to someone like Carlyle. He’s musically talented, that much I’m sure of. He hits each note delicately and with so much precision. The music becomes more intricate, more complex. The melody gets faster, and my eyes can barely keep track of what he’s doing anymore.
