The Billionaire's Private Scandal Page 2

  After all, she’d been doing it for the better part of a decade.

  She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and looked up at him, hoping her ice-blue eyes would work their magic. However, he seemed to be studying her like she’d grown an extra head. She started unbuttoning her coat, keeping her gaze on his face.

  “You don’t really want to talk, do you Brandon?”

  He blinked as she slid the coat off her shoulders and set it on the counter. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You, speechless? Never.” She straightened her posture, grinning when the movement caused him to drop his gaze to the deep vee of her tight T-shirt. She’d learned quickly the more cleavage she showed, the more tips she’d find in the jar at the end of her shift.

  “I want to know what you think you’re doing. It’s one thing to have a quarter-life crisis, but this is a bit extreme. I know what your father did was a shock—”

  “It didn’t surprise me half as much as you think. I knew he was a snake.” She grinned, and he rewarded her efforts with a frown. Obviously he’d tired of her charms, but she’d known that, suffered that blow when she could least afford it.

  “You knew he was embezzling from Carlton International?”

  “I knew he was supporting more people than he could have on what he earned. Mistresses are quite expensive, as you know.” Her throat tightened and she clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling.

  “Then what are you doing? If you aren’t upset about how he disappeared with millions of other people’s money, why are you hiding out?”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Megan, everyone thinks you’re with your parents wherever it is they escaped to. And I find you making coffee and living like this?” He waved his hand through the air, forcing her to take another look at her sad apartment.

  “Funny, isn’t it? All those fundraisers I helped with for the Carlton Houses and they were full when I needed them.” She shrugged. “It’s amazing how few jobs there are for people who didn’t bother to graduate high school.”

  “But you went to Beverly Prep.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

  “And my mother needed an interpreter for her European vacation the spring of my senior year. I wasn’t going to volunteer to go back.” Megan pasted on her brightest smile. “It’s fine. I got my GED last week. Maybe now I’ll qualify to answer phones.”

  “But you speak three languages.”

  “So do the French and Germans. Now if I’d bothered to learn Spanish, I might have a bright future in telemarketing.”

  He ran his hand through his cropped dark brown hair. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “Have you ever tried to get an apartment with no money, no job and no credit history? This was the best I could do.”

  “Please, Megan. Your trust fund—”

  “Is probably what Daddy dearest is using to pay for his life on some island with no extradition agreement.” The truth hung heavy between them. She hadn’t meant to tell him, but she didn’t have the energy to lie. She couldn’t understand why her father would need to steal from his children if he’d taken all the money the newspapers claimed, but there were a lot of things about the situation she couldn’t wrap her head around.

  Brandon looked about the room. “Is this all you have?”

  “I have what I need. Well, except for a day job.”

  He quirked a brow. “You have a night job?”

  “The Blue Parrot. It’s karaoke tonight. Will I see you there, too?”

  Brandon closed his eyes, his broad chest rising and falling with a deep breath. He opened his eyes, his dark gaze colliding with hers. “Get your things. You can stay with me.”

  “No, I can’t.” She’d rather die in Pasadena than have to listen to him having sex with Gemma Ryan down the hall. Besides, when she’d sold her things she’d vowed never to depend on anyone again.

  “I can’t let you stay here.” The air in the small apartment sagged with tension.

  “I don’t see how what I do is any of your business.” Part of her screamed to go with him, to find a safe and clean place where she wouldn’t be scared and lonely. She wanted so desperately to escape what her life had become, but at least now it was of her own making.

  “It’s ridiculous for you to be here.”

  “No, it’s ridiculous for you to be here, pretending that it matters to you. You got what you wanted from the Carltons. You’ll excuse me if I don’t offer my congratulations on your accomplishments.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you need help packing?”

  And to think she used to find his confidence attractive. Hell, she still did. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m never sleeping with you again. You can take that to the bank. It’s much more secure than any investment you’ve ever made.”

  “Did I ask you?” His gaze bore holes in what was left of her bravado. “If you don’t want to come home with me, I’ll put you up in a hotel until we figure this out. If you want a job, I’m sure I can find something that makes better use of your talents.”

  If his gaze hadn’t slid down her body at the words, she might have believed his altruistic intentions. But she knew Brandon, knew his insatiable desires better than anyone. She’d relished it when it was on her terms, but to be beholden to him? Being with him lost all appeal in the light of what he’d done, who he’d turned her into. Not to mention the piece of trash currently keeping his sheets warm.

  “I’m not sleeping with you, not living with you, not working for you. In fact, I’d prefer not to breathe the same air. With you around everything has the stink of betrayal.”

  “This is how you want it?”

  Not at all, but she didn’t see any other option. She nodded.

  He stepped closer, until she couldn’t move without touching him. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  His words echoed back in time, the scene unfolding in her mind of when he’d said that to her all those years ago. She’d flirted with him shamelessly. He was everything she’d thought she wanted, even though she knew he was more than she could handle. He’d refused her every advance, until she returned from Europe. She couldn’t hide the shiver that ran down her spine at the memory.

  Brandon lifted her chin with his fingers and brushed his lips across hers. Megan froze, her heart pounding a primal beat in her chest. A surge of heat coursed through her body and she pulled in a breath to cool the desire. It didn’t work. It never did. Somehow, through the hazy memory of all she’d lost, she pulled away.

  She gazed up at him, wishing she could hate him. “I slept with you because you were my friend. You most certainly are not my friend, so you aren’t entitled to those kinds of benefits anymore.”

  “For the record, Meg, I have wanted more from you for a while now. I’m done sneaking around and playing games. Next time you’re in my bed—and believe me, there will be a next time—you won’t be leaving.”

  …

  Brandon stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs. A bus, like the one Megan had arrived home on moments before, rumbled past. When it was gone he saw the stark difference in the way he and Megan now travelled.

  His vintage Corvette, her city bus.

  How had he let this happen? He’d been so sure the Carlton deal would tilt everything in his favor, but somehow it threw his plans wildly off track. For a man unaccustomed to making mistakes, it really set him off balance.

  He sat down on the cold steps and pulled out his phone, speed dial connecting him almost immediately.

  “Was she there?” Humor laced Danny Reid’s voice.

  “That she was. You any closer to figuring out why?” Computer keys clicked in the background. Danny’s knack for uncovering corporate secrets played well in the personal realm. What hadn’t they taught the man in Special Ops?

  “She�
��s been in Pasadena for months. When the receiver stepped in to liquidate the assets Carlton left, Megan went to a hotel with her sisters. They stayed until the hotel management realized their credit cards had been frozen. They left, but the bill wasn’t paid until last month, in cash. They all kept things pretty quiet.”

  “Which is why everyone assumes they are as guilty as their parents.” He plucked at the stain on the front of his shirt. Why hadn’t she come straight to him?

  She’d been finding her way to him for longer than he cared to think about. No one knew about it. She’d been adamant about that. It was a fun arrangement when he was younger, but when he turned thirty last year he’d told her he needed more. She’d been steadily ignoring that fact ever since, though she did accept the key card to his penthouse, still had plenty of clothes there. If he hadn’t been so busy, he would have pushed the issue and they would have been married before the Carlton scandal went public.

  “Megan and Briana haven’t been in contact with anyone. Most people know Ava is shacked-up with Sullivan, the computer genius with that IPO you made a mint on?”

  “I know who he is.” Brandon wondered why Ava had let her sister live in a place like this if she was with Jack Sullivan. Every time he found a missing piece, he realized the puzzle was bigger than he expected. “And Briana?”

  “She’s in Oregon living with an aunt and interning at a hotel up there. Megan is the one hiding. If she wasn’t in on it, she’s sure acting like she has something to hide.”

  Yeah, like embarrassment. If Carlton had cashed in one trust fund, he likely liquidated them all.

  None of it explained why Megan was so hell bent on not accepting help from anyone. He begrudged the admiration he felt for how she’d picked herself up. She was being stubborn to the point of ridiculous, but a part of him understood. Even if his bank account flatlined, he’d have options an education and experience provided.

  Why hadn’t he realized she never graduated? His chest tightened. Because he’d been too damned excited when she’d returned from Europe to have realized there was no graduation party.

  Brandon tugged on his earlobe and straightened his posture. The past didn’t matter. He needed to focus on keeping Megan safe.

  Across the street a pair of unruly looking teens made their second pass past his Corvette. His gut knotted. He could buy a dozen sports cars, but if anything happened to Megan he’d never forgive himself.

  “Danny, Megan’s not hiding anything.” It wouldn’t fit in the room she called an apartment.

  “She’s paying cash for everything. Nothing is traceable. If she’s not hiding, why else would she go off the grid?”

  He opened his mouth to explain exactly how he knew Megan wouldn’t be here if she had any other options, but he couldn’t. His knowledge of her affinity for expensive sheets and sleeping late wasn’t public. More than that, he knew her, knew her rigid sense of fairness that extended from domestic abuse to equal time with the remote control. He knew by looking into her eyes that this wasn’t the childish snit he’d first thought, but a true act of bleak desperation.

  What he didn’t know was why.

  Following her home before he had all the facts wasn’t his smartest move, and neither was sitting on her stairway, wondering how someone so vibrant and alluring could be in a place so dull and depressing. He’d built his success by knowing more than his competition, by paying attention to details others overlooked. And yet where Megan was concerned, he’d always been blind.

  In the last seven years he’s spent more nights with her than without. It had been an absolutely ideal situation, one most of his friends would trade anything for. A beautiful, intelligent woman in his private life who wanted nothing to do with the public trappings of his work. He hadn’t realized just how good he’d had it until Megan disappeared.

  Danny’s laugh broke into his thoughts. “Okay, so you obviously have no idea what her motivation is. But this isn’t your problem, man. She’s Carlton’s daughter, not yours. And while she might have chosen the seedier side of Pasadena, she has a job and a place to stay and an obvious dislike of you. So why don’t you get off the guilt train and get back to work?”

  His chest grew tight at the truth of his friend’s words. Megan was all kinds of angry and not in any mood to change her disposition. “I need you to run a check on her financials, hers and her sisters. The girls’ trust funds weren’t accessible in the receivership, but she’s claiming her father tapped them before he disappeared.”

  “And you’re actually buying that? He took the liquid assets of the corporation because he knew you were bearing down on him.”

  “We have no idea what Carlton was thinking before he split, or if Megan had any role in it. And I need some kind of bodyguard on her. Something.”

  “Why? Do you think she’s in communication with her father? Maybe she can lead us to him and the money he stole from the company.” Computer keys clicked in the background while Danny undoubtedly set the world in order.

  “I want whoever is watching her to be someone who’ll intercede if necessary. She can’t get hurt in this, Danny.” Not more than she already had.

  “You need to come back to work and get your mind off Carlton’s girls. You can’t save the world. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “Not the world, just her.” Brandon rose from the steps and walked to his car with icy determination. It hadn’t been luck, but planning, instinct and perseverance that earned him the success he now enjoyed.

  He needed to approach the Megan situation the way he did a business deal. Information first, action next. The next time he saw Megan Carlton, he’d be prepared.

  She’d be the one reeling.

  Chapter Two

  In the late-morning lull, Megan emptied out the tip jar and headed to the back office of the coffee shop to divide the tips. She wasn’t sure why they’d hired her back when she’d come in to apologize after realizing all the crap jobs in Pasadena were taken. However, she didn’t really care so long as she earned enough money to pay off her exorbitant cell-phone bill and buy a new charger. Her life was on that phone and since the battery died she’d had no way to contact anyone.

  She’d skated through the first twenty-five years of her life without a plan, and that blew up in her face in spectacular fashion. Once she got everything back in order, no one and nothing would throw her into such disarray ever again. Brandon hadn’t bothered her in the last week, cementing the realization that she’d been terribly wrong about trusting him in the first place.

  She sorted the money into two piles, one for her and one for Wendy, who’d worked the shift with her. As the money added up, she did a mental calculation of what she’d saved and realized she’d be able to pay off what she owed on the phone today, maybe even sweet talk the guy at the store into ordering the charger since she should have enough for it by the time it arrived. Hopefully it was a guy at the store. The last two times she’d been in, the women had been less than helpful, not even letting her charge the phone for a few minutes so she could copy some numbers off.

  “I don’t think it’s fair for us to split the money.”

  “Really?” Megan looked up to where Wendy stood in the doorway to the small office. Wendy had spent most of the morning sitting at a table with one of her friends instead of helping customers, but she usually did that.

  “This is some kind of reality show thing for you, right? I’ve seen you and your celebrity friends on television.” She flicked her black hair off her face, the sleeve of her shirt inching higher with the move and revealing a purple bruise.

  Megan’s stomach lurched and knotted. “Do you see cameras anywhere?”

  “They must be hidden. I figure it’s some kind of experiment that you’ll get to laugh about next year when it’s in prime time. I shouldn’t have to split tips with you. It’s not fair.”

  “That bruise on your arm doesn’
t look fair.” She met the woman’s gaze, recognizing the shame as Wendy tugged down her sleeve.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I hit my arm on a door.”

  “I know people you can talk to. They know how to help you, keep you safe.” Megan glanced down at the money, wishing she didn’t need it.

  “I don’t want to be part of your TV crusade. Keep me out of your reality show, okay? I know how they work. You do this crazy thing and bored people get to watch, and the next thing you know, you’re famous for no reason. I’ll still be right here, and I shouldn’t have to share money with you. I have real problems, bigger than which dress to wear on the red carpet.”

  Megan stacked the bills in two piles, placing the change on top. “Maybe you don’t make it past the entertainment section of the newspaper, but my father nearly bankrupted a company. I’m working here because I need to, not for publicity.” She grabbed her bag and pulled out one of the white cards she kept in the inside pocket. “If you need the money today, you can have it. But I won’t do it again unless you call this number.” She slid the two piles of money together and placed the card on top.

  Wendy lifted the card and read. “Evelyn Hattem Catering?”

  “If he finds it, tell him she offered you a waitressing job at parties she caters.” Megan stood, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand why women don’t leave the first time it happens. It doesn’t just stop.”

  “I have a kid and two dogs. It’s not that easy to just walk away. You don’t get to judge me.”

  “I’m not.” Her heart tugged at the realization that animals often kept people in bad situations. Before her life went to hell in a handbasket, she’d been trying to work out a way for the Carlton Houses to accept animals as well. “If you need my share of the tips, you’re welcome to them. If it’s for him, I have better things to spend my money on.”