Private Scandal (9 page)

“And the added insurance? Megan, we don’t have enough money to make our operating budgets for much longer after the holidays. We need to focus on holding on to what we have, not growing our expenses. If we can’t figure out fundraising—”

“Are you starting without us?” Susan Mowery, the plump brunette who ran the Burbank shelter entered the room, followed by the directors from Santa Monica and Glendale.

Megan stared at the two women who followed the directors into the small room, her pulse quickening with recognition.

Jordana Knight’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence. Brandon’s mother was the grande dame of the charity set, but she’d never taken passing notice of the Carlton Houses before. Either Brandon had called her in to help, or to take over completely.

Likely the latter because with her, in a white bandeau mini dress held up only by the audacity of her fake breasts, was Gemma Ryan. Megan looked her over from her sparkly Jimmy Choo sandals to the blonde highlights and lowlights fighting for dominance atop her head. The girl was a hot mess, and a thousand times more suited to Brandon than Megan would ever be.

Knowing how much they deserved each other did nothing to quell the queasiness in her stomach or how her skin prickled with sweat. She still wanted to punch Gemma in her collagen-injected mouth. If not for Cash on her lap, she might have, no matter the cost. What did she have to lose anymore, really?

“Isn’t this great?” Susan grinned from ear to ear as she settled onto the couch. “Mrs. Knight called this morning to offer to help with fundraising. I’m so excited to get a plan in place so we won’t be in a panic next year.”

Megan swallowed and pasted on a smile. Her heart beat an urgent rhythm in her chest.
Run, as fast as you can and as far as you can get.

Brandon must have called his mother, and what was worse, he probably called in Gemma as payback for the marks she’d left on his body. The treachery of his games cut her to the quick. Maybe she should run, because obviously he was coming after her, and he wasn’t about to stop until she had nothing at all. If she got in the car right now, she could make it to Oregon by breakfast tomorrow. Let Brandon say she stole the car, in Oregon, Briana or her aunt could post bail. Though with her aunt’s cat collection, she couldn’t bring Cash. She held the dog tighter, her mind screaming for an escape, but she couldn’t see a clear way out.

“Megan,” Jordana Knight said, standing tall in her unforgiving leather blazer and slim pencil skirt. The statuesque brunette was pure sophistication and glamour. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“And you. I’m surprised you have the time to help us. The holiday season is always packed with functions for your causes.” She looked up at the older woman, trying to read an expression that showed nothing at all. Was this the cavalry bent on rescue, or the infantry on a mission to destroy the last thing she had? There was no way of knowing.

“I make time for what’s important.” Her dark gaze, so like Brandon’s dipped from Megan’s face to Cash, and back again. “If the Carlton Houses are in trouble, I have some ideas for how we can turn things around.”

“Me too,” Gemma chimed in, entirely too eager for Megan’s liking. She didn’t know Gemma well, though they’d gone to the same exclusive private school. Gemma had always been a little too boy crazy to make many friends. Megan wondered just how crazy it would make her to learn where Brandon was last night and how thoroughly he’d enjoyed himself. “There are some simple things we can do to give the organization a quick PR makeover.”

“Like what?” Evie asked, before Megan had a chance to tell Gemma what she could do with her ideas.

“Renaming the different houses.”

“Absolutely not.” Megan stood, her pulse thundering in her ears. “I’m not going to let you erase decades of dedication and support.”

“Megan, you need to listen.” Jordana’s hand on her arm was the only thing that stopped her from saying more, or from knocking the twit backwards out of the small room. “No one is discounting the effort your mother put into starting this to honor your great-grandmother. You just need to be realistic about what is best for the women you help. You will not get a single sizable contribution as long as Carlton is connected to the organization.”

Megan shook off her hand. “You want me out?”

Jordana shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You are key to the consistency of the organization. That you’re here speaks to the resiliency of women, which is what this is all about. Think about this—why are they called Carlton Houses?”

“Because there are women who slip through the cracks and don’t know how to accomplish what my great-grandmother did. My mother founded the charity and my family has been the primary supporter since inception.”

The older woman nodded. “So wouldn’t it be better if this were Amanda’s House? We could name another after your grandmother.”

Evie stood and came to stand beside Megan. “I like it,” she said softly.

“You see?” Gemma pressed her hands together in glee. “Then the fundraiser will be a rededication event. You won’t seem so desperate.”

“We are not desperate.” Megan’s decibel level belied her words, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to be put down by the woman sleeping with Brandon.

“Ladies, will you excuse us for a moment?” Jordana Knight gave a look to the others in the room that sent the five women scurrying. When they were alone, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Megan for long moments.

Megan met the gaze, not wanting to back down. If they wanted to force her out, she’d go kicking and screaming. She might not have been able to do a thing to stop the financial melee her father had started, but she could put the brakes on destroying this legacy.

The older woman let out a slow sigh and her gaze flickered to the dog and back to Megan. “You need help with this. These shelters are too important for you to let pride get in the way.”

“I will not let anyone undo what my mother built.”

“That’s fair, but Amanda was not born a Carlton and neither was your great-grandmother. No one is trying to take away the tribute to them, but in this community Carlton is synonymous with thief. No one will willingly hand anything with the name Carlton more money when they think he still owes them.”

Megan’s eyes closed as the argument registered and her stomach sank. Jordana was right. Donations had stopped cold along with the monthly support her parents had provided. They’d been running on reserve funds ever since and it wasn’t going to last much longer. They had to do something, or in addition to losing the hotel chain her great-grandmother had built from a run-down boarding house, they’d lose the homes they’d opened in her honor to shelter women from the storms of life.

She opened her eyes and nodded, her voice shaking as she spoke. “I won’t work with Gemma.”

Jordana blinked. “Why not? She does amazing PR work for a lot of different foundations. She has wonderful contacts that could really help this campaign.”

“My reasons are petty, and I don’t want to have to see her.” Or have to hear about how amazing and wonderful she was.

“I admire your honesty.” Her quiet laugh brought a smile to Megan’s face. “I’m curious about something else though. Why has my son had your dog for the last month?”

Megan started, a lie to cover the truth forming on her lips. It had become so natural to keep her relationship with Brandon to themselves, her first instinct was to keep up the charade. But since Brandon was with Gemma, a girl who’d attached herself to his mother, there was nothing to hide anymore.

“I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, so Cash has been bounced around a bit. But he’s back with me now.”

Every time he moved, the collar of his shirt scratched against the hickey Megan had left on his neck. To make matters worse, her other love bite was exactly where his jeans creased when he sat. It wouldn’t bother him at all if he were naked and she was here the same way.

He shifted in the chair, his jeans growing too tight yet again. After last night, he seemed to have a permanent semi, and if he didn’t get Megan beneath him soon he’d surely go mad. Not that he was altogether sane right now.

“Danny!” he bellowed to his empty office. No doubt the administrative assistants between their offices cringed, but he was beyond caring. When he’d arrived this morning, Danny’s people had already lost track of Megan. He knew part of that was his fault, having spirited her away to Malibu, but if he didn’t know where she was, he wanted someone to.

“Dude,” Danny said as he wheeled himself into the room. “We have an intercom. Stop being a Neanderthal and use it.”

“Where is she?” His foot tapped against the floor like a woodpecker on speed.

“Pasadena Carlton House. They’ve tagged her car, so she won’t be able to go anywhere in it without being tracked.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d been panicked all morning that she’d run further away. He’d even called his mother with news the charity was in trouble to make sure someone set eyes on her today.

If the Carlton Houses really were struggling, his mother would know how to fix things. She knew millions of ways to separate rich people from their money. It was a family tradition of sorts, he and his father collected money and she doled it out to those who needed it. Really, his story was Robin Hood, not the Big Bad Wolf. Why couldn’t Megan see that?

Danny leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me what the real deal is with Megan?”

“Yeah, that’s what I need to know too.” Gemma Ryan flounced into the office, tossing her oversized handbag on the leather couch. “She refuses to let me help with the campaign at her shelters.”

Brandon knit his brows together. “Why would you want to?”

“Your mother asked me to help.” As she spoke, she flittered her hands about like twitching butterflies. “I think she knows I’m stressed out and this would be a great distraction. But instead it was all, ‘Great ideas, Gemma. You can go now.’ Megan was openly rude to me. It’s like the Carlton’s lost their manners along with their money.”

Danny rubbed his nose, his gaze moving from Brandon to Gemma and back again. “You sent your mommy? How old are you?”

“What?” Brandon rubbed his cheek, stubble scratching his fingers. “She said the organization was having funding trouble. There’s no one better to help her.”

“Dude, you sent your mommy.” Danny began to chuckle.

“Stop saying it like that. I needed to know what they needed to stay afloat.”

Gemma huffed and perched a hip on the glass-topped desk. “I don’t know why you’re helping her at all. She’s not very nice. Me on the other hand, you could help me and it wouldn’t cost you a thing.”

“Oh yeah, you’re a real peach.” Danny shook his head. “Every nice girl wants to insult the concept of marriage by tying the knot with an even richer man who won’t bother her for three hundred and sixty five days so she can inherit a mint, and then let her go without getting his hands on any of her assets.” He leered at Gemma in a way that wasn’t entirely gentlemanly.

She straightened up. “This was not my idea. My grandfather wanted to make sure I didn’t marry for money, he just had a bad way of insuring that didn’t happen, and a wonky timeline for it.”

“And you have some pretty exacting criteria. I can’t find a guy in all of California who I don’t think has a reason to take half of everything when you toss him aside next year. Except him.” He tilted his head towards Brandon.

“Oh no, no, no. I have my own problems, and this—” he swirled his hand in the air, “—this would make everything much worse. You do it.”

“She doesn’t want to ride around on my lap, if you know what I mean. I think it’s you she wants.”

Gemma stomped her foot. “I am in the room! Why is everyone looking at me like I’m trash today?”

Danny shrugged, his gaze lingering on her chest.

“You wouldn’t know style if it smacked you in your block head.” She grabbed her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “You—” she pointed at Brandon, “—you need to stop feeling so damned guilty about the Carlton sisters. If Megan doesn’t want your help, take her at her word and she’ll get what’s coming to her.” She spun on her stiletto heel and pointed at Danny. “And as for you, mister know-it-all, I’m calling your bluff. You and me, New Years Eve, Las Vegas. Not because I like you, or I feel sorry for you being in that chair, but because if you do screw me, Brandon will pay me back.”

She shook her head, her blonde bob waving about her cheeks. “You men make everything far too complicated.” She sashayed out of the office as if she’d just solved the problem of world peace.

Danny cleared his throat. “You should have asked her what to do about your Megan problem. Since she has an answer for everything.”

No way was he letting Gemma into his personal life, especially if Megan already had a problem with her. “You’re just mad because you’re usually the one with all the answers.”

Danny’s lips quirked as he grinned. “You want to know what I think you should do about Megan?”

She’d kept only one dress, and everyone had seen it before. Megan held out the black lace over cream dress and wondered if it still fit. After a lifetime of struggling to stay within a size of her smaller sisters, she was managing it by the simple task of not eating enough. It made her tired and cranky, but she could probably fit into the designer sample sizes that were sent to her friends in the hopes the celebutantes might be photographed in them. If Jordana really did expect her to show her face at the major events this season, then Megan would need to make nice with some of her old classmates. That, or become the talk of the town by wearing the same tired dress over and over.

Megan sighed, wishing she didn’t have to parade herself before the benefactors of the city, didn’t have to risk seeing Brandon and Gemma together. He hadn’t tried to contact her in the last two days, but she figured he was just biding his time, waiting for a chance to strike when it would be deadly and not just scarring.

After working at the bar last night and a long shift at the coffee shop this morning, the only thing she wanted was a few hours of sleep. Instead, she’d had to turn down a shift at the bar she couldn’t afford to miss for a party that would last until she had to start brewing coffee in the morning.