Private Scandal (3 page)

“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 again 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.”

Wendy nodded and grabbed both stacks of cash. “I’ll think about calling.”

“Don’t ask for my tips again until you have. You can count out the till. I’m out of here.”

Megan made her way out of the coffee shop, the bell on the door ringing her departure. After six hours on her feet last night and six again this morning with only an hour in between, she should go home and sleep before she started the whole cycle over again. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not now.

As the day crept towards noon, the air warmed around her while she walked the mile and a half to the reason she’d landed in Pasadena. Her mother had funded the first Cassie Carlton Retreat House twenty years ago to honor Megan’s great-grandmother and the founder of the Carlton Hotel empire. Even with the loss of its major benefactor, the charity was still running.

For now.

Megan stopped at the white picket fence, looking up at the non-descript façade. To those who passed by, it was just another home in an old neighborhood. For her, it was a sanctuary whose walls had saved countless women. It was the embodiment of what her great-grandmother stood for, of how far she came from a battered wife to boarding house manager to hotelier. She’d made a plan for how her life would be and nothing got in her way.

With new determination, Megan made her way down the front path and around to the back door where she used the numbered lock to let herself in.

“Megan? I’m surprised to see you,” Evie said, piling up the paperwork she’d been busy with. The home’s director often worked at the kitchen table so she’d be open to any of the guests who might need to talk. “I thought you were working today.”

“I’m done for a few hours, so I thought I’d check in.” She sunk into one of the chairs and listened to the quiet of the house. “The kids left?”

Evie nodded and shrugged. “They packed up most everything this morning and headed to a cousin’s house in Oregon.”

“Briana went to Oregon. I don’t suppose she’s called?” She missed her sisters terribly. One of the reasons she was so focused on the cell phone was to be able to use the numbers in it to track them down.

She’d almost given in last week and asked Brandon if he’d tracked down her sisters the way he had her. Was he simply after the money her father had embezzled and not above using the man’s children to find it, or did seven years of sharing her body with him mean he owed her the thinnest sliver of responsibility?

Not enough to warn her that her life was about to implode, or even keep other women out of his bed. Her heart and eyes began to ache, so she put the image of Brandon and Gemma Ryan firmly out of her mind.

Evie shook her head. “A fresh start will do them all good, I think. And it means we have a room, if you still need it.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. There’s a woman from work who might be calling.”

“Are you sure you won’t marry me?” Gemma Ryan all but stomped into Brandon’s office and perched on his leather couch, her pout in full force. “It’s just a year of your life. What do you have to do this year that you can’t do married to me?”

Brandon watched from behind the open armoire as Danny turned his wheelchair around behind the large mahogany desk. His smile was as big as her eyes.

“If you have your heart set on getting married today, sweetheart, we can leave right now.” Danny leaned on his elbow, tilting his body towards the pretty blonde.

When Gemma jumped in shock, Brandon couldn’t help but laugh. He supposed sitting down and from behind he and Danny looked enough alike—short dark hair, broad shoulders, the obligatory dress shirt and tie. But the wheelchair wasn’t the only way to tell them apart. Dan shaved twice a day, while Brandon put it off until he couldn’t pass it off as stylish shadow anymore.

“This isn’t funny.” Gemma turned to look at Brandon, then gestured towards Danny. “Did you tell him?”

After collecting the paper he needed, Brandon closed the armoire and walked to his desk. “This is your train wreck, not mine. Though you should tell him. He knows everything about everyone. He could tell you who’s likely to milk you for your inheritance faster than I could.”

“Wow, Gemma, train wrecks, marriage and an inheritance? You’re a movie of the week, darlin’.” Danny wheeled around to the front of the desk.

“I told you, this isn’t funny.”

“No, you told him it wasn’t funny, me you tend to ignore. But if you want to look my way, we can head to the courthouse right now.”

“I can’t marry you.”

“Of course you can’t, honey.” Dan leaned back in the chair and patted the padded armrests.

“That’s not why!”

Brandon cleared his throat. “You know, Gem, he’s not a bad option. I trust him with my life.”

“Really.” Gemma leveled her gaze at him, and then turned to Danny. “Do you know who he’s marrying?”

Danny’s head whipped around. “What is with the matrimonial fever in this room?”

“He claims he can’t marry me because he is marrying someone else, but he won’t tell me who.”

Suspicion flickered in Danny’s gaze before he turned back to Gemma. “He’s no prince charming, sweetheart. I’m definitely a better catch.”

“Would you be serious!”

“Why do you want to marry him anyway? He works too much, his feet stink and he snores.”

“Hey! Those were your shoes you were always smelling, and I do not snore.” The trouble with staying friends with someone who had watched you go through the most awkward and malodorous years of adolescence was that no matter how you grew up, you were still that angry kid who got tossed into military school for having one too many parties at his parents’ house. Actually, it was the party on the yacht that sent him to Colvard Military Institute. He had to grin at all he learned there. It was as much about how to behave as it was about how to not get caught misbehaving.

“Don’t listen to him. He snores like a bear.”

“No, I don’t.” Megan had never said anything, and she wasn’t the type to keep something like that to herself. Though she never slept over as often as he liked, but he always thought that had more to do with her need for privacy than him.

“Go on then,” Danny motioned for the phone. “Let’s call your bride and ask.”

Brandon only glared. He’d figured Danny had begun to put things together about Megan, but this confirmed it.

“I knew you weren’t really getting married.” Gemma sat up straighter.

“No, he is. Well, he wants to, his bride isn’t as convinced he’s husband material as you are.”

She slumped back into the cushions and looked at Brandon. “What about Dane Preston? Do you—”

“Gay,” Danny said.

“Excuse me?” Gemma’s long hair cascaded over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side.

“He’s gay.”

Brandon drummed his fingers on his desktop. “For her purposes, that wouldn’t matter. But he’s too much of a risk.”

“The gambling thing?” Danny looked up at him. Brandon nodded in response. Danny shook his head and wheeled closer to where Gemma sat. “Okay, so let me get this straight, princess. You’re okay with marrying a gay guy or a guy who’s hopelessly hung up on someone else, but the string of pretty boys you play with aren’t in the line-up. Why is this?”

Gemma shot him a desperate look, but Brandon could only shrug. “Go ahead, tell him.”

She narrowed her gaze and then turned to Danny. “My grandfather decided to make my inheritance contingent upon being married for one year by my thirtieth birthday. I have a month to get married, or else next year my inheritance will go to some Antarctic exploration fund.”

“Ah, the last frontier.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“You don’t want to get married, then get a job, princess. It’s not as if you didn’t know this was coming. It sounds to me like you’ve known for a while you’d have to hitch up.”

“It’s not just about the money. It includes the Ryan Estate. All those people would have to find new homes because I doubt some Antarctic explorer is going to want to hold on to an Alzheimer’s center.” Her face reddened and her voice rose with each word. She swallowed hard and seemed to gain her control back. “I can’t marry just anyone off the street. There’s a clause that I can’t have a prenuptial agreement. It has to be someone I trust not to stick with me for a year and then rob me blind in the divorce. It isn’t worth doing if I’m going to lose everything anyway.”

Brandon scratched his head and shifted in his seat. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Gemma. But I can’t marry you.”

“Because of this mystery woman. Are you sure she’s worth me losing everything?” There was desperation in her dark green gaze, but it didn’t tempt him in the slightest. Neither had the kiss she’s planted on him a few months back when she first told him about her crazy scheme. He wanted Megan and nothing was ever going to change that.

A smile slowly spread across his face. Megan was worth any risk. But he didn’t have to throw his friends to the wolves either, just at each other. “Danny and I will think on it for you. There’s got to be a man in California who doesn’t need to marry you for your money.”