Private Scandal (19 page)

An amazing elation followed by the cold hard truth of reality. Panic battled with desperation as she forced herself to break the kiss, to break the connection between them.

She pushed against him and he slipped out of her, letting her wobbly legs slide to the floor. She fixed her panties and her dress, not at all surprised by how little the previous moment showed on her. They’d found themselves in the same clench countless times. She tried to tell herself that’s all this was, just a replay of an old bad habit.

She wiped her mouth and bent to grab her purse and the key card that had fallen from her hands and her notice. She used to love the way he could make reality fade, and now she feared she’d become addicted to his brand of drug. She stood and noticed that he too appeared as if nothing had happened.

“That was really stupid, Brandon.”

“I think it’s the smartest thing either of us have done all day.”

“I’m not on the pill, you jackass. Or was that the point, were you trying the oldest trick in the book to tether me to you?”

She knew by the way he blanched it hadn’t occurred to him. She took advantage of the shock on his face to open the door and make her escape.

Brandon shook his head to dispel the worry and grabbed his wallet and phone from the entry table. He pulled open the door, expecting to see Megan waiting for the elevator. No such luck.

He pressed the button, surprised when it opened instantly. She must have taken the stairs in an effort to avoid him, knowing he would follow. He checked the stairway, but hearing nothing he opted for the elevator.

He leaned back against the mirrored wall as the car descended three flights to the floor holding the hotel’s restaurant and nightclub. The private elevator opened into the restaurant waiting area, still crowded with people waiting for a chance to get a table with views of Hollywood stars, or at least Hollywood from the windowed walls surrounding the restaurant.

He made his way to the pulsing bass beat of the nightclub, nodding absently at a few people who tried to wave him over. He was on a mission to find Megan and drag her back home before she found her way into some real trouble. He’d toss her over his shoulder if necessary.

His pulse raced as he scanned the bar and dance floor, unable to find her in the swarm of bodies. After forty-five minutes of searching, including a trip to both of the VIP lounges, he still couldn’t find her. As he stalked back to the elevator, he called the security team that was supposed to be watching her.

“She hasn’t left the building and her car is still secure in the garage,” the bodyguard claimed.

But Brandon knew Megan was resourceful and had practically grown up in this hotel. If anyone knew how to escape unnoticed, it would be her.

There was no way to gauge how desperate she was. Would she go to one of her former friends who had been so cold to her last night? Did she have cab fare to make it to one of the Carlton Houses? Would she try and take the bus at this time of night?

Anger and panic and terror slammed against him, making his pulse pound in his brain. He’d been able to protect her last night, but what if she slipped into harm’s way again? What if she did get pregnant and he never saw her again?

“Find Megan. Now.”

Chapter Eleven

Megan ran her hand along the keys of the grand piano, but didn’t dare press them. Her family’s penthouse was a mirror image of Brandon’s, the living rooms side-by-side, and she didn’t want to take the chance that Brandon would realize the empty apartment next door wasn’t so empty.

The top of the piano had been filled with family photos in gilded frames, but now everything was as stark as a hotel room should be, all personal touches removed and likely sold to the highest bidder.

Her father’s high-tech entertainment system had been replaced by the hotel’s standard issue models, the modern artwork that had graced the walls swapped for some truly ugly pieces that must have spent decades hiding in the basement. Just like everything else in her life, it was the same but completely different.

The master bedroom smelled like clean laundry, not her mother. The vintage shoe collection was gone from the room-size closet, as was any sign that someone had ever lived here. Her father’s study had been replaced by the standard issue bedroom, just like at Brandon’s. She climbed the stairs to the room she’d shared with her sisters with deliberate slowness. Brandon had his office upstairs, but here the Carlton sisters had taken over on the nights their parents couldn’t be bothered to trek up the hill to the family estate.

The landing had once been home to a doll house and play kitchen, but those had long since been packed away, replaced by velvet chaise lounges and a bookshelf stocked with leather-bound classics no one ever read. Now the entire space lay empty.

She hoped someone would read those books.

Her hand shook as she turned the handle and opened the door to what had been her bedroom. Her heart sank to see the three twin beds gone, replaced by the same standard issue bedroom arrangement in any room in the hotel. It was what she expected, and yet it made her throat ache. She walked around the room, trying to remember it as it was, as she was.

A note on the closet door caught her eye. She read
personal property
and she furrowed her brow. She opened the door and found the walk-in closet just as crammed full as it had been since Ava discovered her love of handbags.

Three girls in one closet made for a tight squeeze no matter how rarely they’d stayed here, and it seemed even more had been added to the fray, including a cardboard box of pictures.

Megan sank to the floor with the box in her lap, thumbing through the photos that had been in frames throughout the penthouse. Memories of her first time on her pony, Ava’s sweet sixteen party, sporting a one-piece while her mother and sisters rocked bikinis on the beach in Hawaii. It all flooded through her as fast as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

They’d had good times, happy family vacations and tender moments highlighted by the picture of her and Ava holding their newborn baby sister. It had been good and her father had thrown it away. He’d put a price on his children and tossed them to the wolves.

Megan could remember that he’d loved her mother once, and over the years his distance from them all grew, other women on the fringe but always there. It got worse and worse until he destroyed an entire legacy.

Brandon would be the same way if she let him. She’d deluded herself for too long that he was different. The lies would get bigger, uglier, and eventually she’d be strangled by them just as her mother was.

She fingered a glamour shot of her mother, one that had sat on her father’s desk right by the phone, and wondered why in the world she’d left with him.

“Well?” Brandon clasped the phone to his ear, his hand clenched around the back of his desk chair. He’d been pacing for two hours and hadn’t heard a word from the high-priced security team Danny thought so highly of.

“We’ve reviewed the security cameras from all the exits, and we think she’s still somewhere in the building.”

“I told you hours ago that she practically grew up in the Beverly Carlton. If anyone knows how to come and go unnoticed, it’s Megan.” Realization clenched his jaw. He’d supported her in their game of secrecy, encouraged her to learn how to get away without being seen, and now she’d gotten away from him.

“We’ve also investigated other locations where we’ve seen her the last few months. It’s our opinion she is in the hotel.”

“Where?” Acid burned his stomach at the thought she’d followed through on her threat to find someone else’s bed to sleep in, but the fire waned as quickly as it had built.

That wasn’t Megan.

He put a hand over his thundering heart and calmed himself with the knowledge of who Megan was outside of her circumstances. She was a natural-born philanthropist, a nurturer at her core. As unexpected as their frantic lovemaking in the entryway had been, it settled everything.

Until Megan knew she wasn’t pregnant, she would act as if she were. There would be a pass on coffee and wine, eating balanced meals, and she’d have a safe place to sleep each night. She would be Megan, his Megan, however infuriated with him.

“We will find her. We’ve done a sweep of the common and employee areas, and have started searching the unoccupied rooms from the lower levels on up. She hasn’t made any phone calls and I was just getting ready to check her internet activity.”

“I’m not sure if she knows how to use the internet on her phone. She usually checks her email from the computers at one of her shelters.”

“She’s online now.”

Brandon shook his head. “I told you she left.”

“Let’s see, she’s in her email program now. She’s sent messages to both of her sisters. Nothing obvious there, but we’ll analyze them later to see if they’re cryptic.”

“Wait, hold on. You’ve been reading her email?”

“We monitor all communications.”

“Well, stop.” His pulse raced faster than before, the need to protect her overriding his own need to find where she was. “I mean it. Back out of her email and do not look or listen to another of her private correspondence. Are we clear?”

“Sir, you hired us to find Mr. Carlton. Monitoring his daughters has been part of that from before we started guarding Megan. We need to act the moment they make contact with him.”

“Megan is bouncing on rock bottom. She has no idea where her father is.” He straightened up and looked out the floor to ceiling windows at the twinkling lights of Beverly Hills.

Megan was out there, somewhere, alone and running, and he’d been the one to send the wolves at her heels. No more.

“You’ve had three months to find Carlton, and stalking his very attractive daughters might get you hard, but it’s not doing your job.”

“They are the best lead we have.”

“Then find another, or you’ll be out of a client. Not just for the Carlton project, but everything. Danny may have faith in you, but I am rapidly losing mine. If I find out you’ve violated the privacy of any of those women, you’ll find yourself as decimated as any of the companies you’ve watched me dismantle over the years. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve had three months to find an old man, and you’ve lost a young woman from under your nose. I’m not impressed.” Brandon clicked off the phone and hurled it at the wall. The dogs’ heads popped up as it bounced along the floor.

Brandon didn’t want to face them, to tell two dogs he’d lost their mom because his head had been on crooked and he couldn’t keep his pants on around her.

He bounded down the stairs, not at all surprised that neither dog followed. They were as disgusted with him as he was with himself.

How had he not realized how deeply he trusted her? He was completely confident in her ability to keep their child safe, and yet he’d worried about a business deal? About keeping an embarrassing secret for Gemma?

It was beyond ridiculous.

He stalked into the spare bedroom, looking around for some clue as to where she’d gone. Her half-packed bag still lay on the floor of the closet. She’d obviously had a plan, somewhere to run. Now he just had to figure out where.

The computer keys clicked beneath her fingers in the main room of the penthouse suite. It felt eerie to be here alone in the middle of the night, especially with everything stripped of the familiarity she’d known.

Still, correspondence and fundraising attempts for the shelters kept her mind occupied, so no matter how many times she had to look over her shoulder at the strangeness of it all, she kept at it. A Brandon-induced pity party didn’t help anyone, but finding a solution to the pet problem with the shelters might. She’d sent queries to dozens of agencies in the last week, but now she had time to sort through the replies.

She was able to find possibilities near each of the homes. It amazed her that they’d never thought to do it before. She’d been so wrapped up in the idea that she was helping so many, she’d been ignorant of the women they hadn’t been able to help.

Spending so much time in the homes lately had alerted her to other challenges, like young couples who needed a break, and mothers with teenaged sons who needed a place to stay with their older children.

She needed more houses, places designed for those who didn’t fit neatly in a traditional women’s shelter, but who needed help nonetheless. But since she was struggling to keep the doors open on the four she had, she didn’t know where she’d find the resources to start three new homes. She just knew that she had to.

Her instant messenger chimed, a screen popping up in front of her. She saw her sister’s handle and smiled.

“Late night?” Ava entered.

“I could say the same to you. Are you just getting in?” Megan typed.

“It’s six in the morning here. I’m starting my day.”

Megan quirked a brow. “Since when do you get up at six?”

“Since I have a business to launch next week. No rest for the wicked.”

Megan laughed, and then jumped as her vibrating phone danced across the desktop. She’d silenced it earlier when Brandon had started calling incessantly, afraid he might hear it ring and realize how close she was. She checked the caller-ID to make sure it wasn’t him again before answering.

“Hey, sis,” Ava said before Megan could so much as hello. “I got a ton of calls about you yesterday.”

Megan walked deeper in to the penthouse and curled up on the stiff, patterned yellow camelback sofa which had obviously been designed for looking at and not sitting on. She pulled a tufted pillow onto her lap and sighed.

“People I haven’t heard from in months wanted to know what was going on with you and Brandon Knight, and since the jerk hunted me down two weeks ago, I’m starting to wonder myself.”

“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I think I’ve hit the mother lode of handbags for you.”

“Don’t change the subject, though that was a nice try. You left a party last night with him.”

“Yes, I did.” Megan swallowed, wondering how much to tell. She didn’t want to hear how stupid she’d been.