Tycoon Takedown (9 page)

“You saw what he di
d . . .
”

“I did.”

Charles searched online on his phone until he found the version of the video that had been put to music. It was a remix of the other clip with parts of it looping. He groaned at the number of downloads listed below. Mason was right. There was no undoing this one.

Charles thought he looked ridiculous in the video, and he couldn’t see the allure. “Why does anyone care about this? I don’t usually get this kind of press.”

“It’s not for you. Well, not really. Everyone is talking about Melanie. She is fucking amazing. When she puts her foot on the mugger’s back and slams him into the cement, you can’t help but cheer her on. She did what every one of us would like to think we would do if we were mugged. She kicked some ass. Then you sweep in and talk like you’re reading lines from some B-rated chick flick and lay a kiss on her. Hell, even I couldn’t wait to share the video when I saw it. It left me all pumped up.”

A second later Mason laughed again. “I’m looking at the newest photos of you getting out of your limo at her hotel. You look pissed.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“You wouldn’t have had one if yo
u’d
answered my phone calls. I imagine you’ve been occupied, though. That was some street mauling you gave your cowgirl. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

Charles hung up on Mason, which likely didn’t faze his friend in the least. He pulled the video up on his phone and groaned. The evening he had looked forward to all day had taken an unexpected and unwelcome turn. It was one thing to take Melanie to a charity event and let people speculate about their relationship. It was another to take her to one while weathering a scandal.

He stood outside the door of her room and gritted his teeth angrily.
I was supposed to keep her safe.

I couldn’t have done a worse job had I set out to.

She was no longer anonymous and, in the city, that could be a dangerous thing. He called his head of security again. H
e’d
never needed or wanted a bodyguard, but Melanie was going to have one.

Two if that’s what it took to keep her safe.

“I’ll send someone right over. Is this for a night, sir? The week? What should I tell them?”

“It’s a temporary job,” Charles snarled.

Temporary.

I said it.

I meant it.

Nothing has changed.

After hanging up, he texted his lawyer, instructing him to contact any person who posted the video and inform them that half of the profit would be procured fo
r . . .
He thought of the various charities he donated to. He told his lawyer to pick one and get back to him. Giving in to a sudden impulse, he asked him to also check what had happened to the kid in the video. Where did he end up?
Keep that final request between us
, he wrote.

The door to Melanie’s room opened. Dressed in a black gown that looked like it had been painted on her curves, she smiled up at him and Charles forgot everything else.

“I thought I heard you out here. What are you doing?”

Charles held out his phone wordlessly and shook his head, trying to remember what had been important enough to keep him from her. He stepped inside, pulled her into his arms, and gave in to his hunger for her.

The
y’d
be late to—

Where the hell are we going?

Chapter Nine

“
There is something we need to discuss before we go anywhere tonight,” Charles said later as he shrugged on the jacket of his tuxedo.

Melanie was already back in her black dress and fixing her makeup in the bathroom mirror. He was tempted to tell her that he preferred her naked—bare of clothes and makeup. Her smooth as silk pussy had been an unexpected treat. Women spent hours covering and concealing their real beauty. The more she put on, the more he wanted to carry her back to his bed and strip it all off.

He was smart enough to keep that thought to himself, though.

“What is it?” she asked¸ her eyes round with concern.

He considered not showing her their trending video. He already resented its intrusion on how h
e’d
thought the evening would go. How would she react? Would she be too embarrassed to attend the event?

He prepped his phone, then held it up facing her. She stepped closer and her eyebrows rose as she realized what she was watching. “We’re on YouTube?”

He nodded and watched her expression closely.

An embarrassed smile spread across her face. “Oh my God. I look crazy. I can’t believe I did that. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how angry I was. Oh, look, they have the part where you showed up.” A blush spread across her face as she watched their kiss. She took his phone and scrolled down. “Is this right? Have that many people seen the video?”

“It looks that way. I’m trying to have it taken down.”

“Can you do that?”

“Probably not. We were in a public place. I don’t know, but I’m having my lawyer look into it.”

“Did you see how many comments there are? Thousands.” She scanned them. “They think I’m a hero.” She smiled, then made a circle of surprise with her lips. “And they think you’re an ass.” She chuckled and met his eyes. “Sorry.”

A reluctant smile pulled at Charles’s lips. “An ass, huh?”

Melanie’s eyes lit with mischief, and she turned the phone and pointed to the comments below the video. “I didn’t say it. They did.”

He pulled her to him, holding her by her hips against him, and kissed her smiling lips. “You just find it funny.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss back. “I wouldn’t have last week. I probably would have been mortified. But being here with you . . . I can’t explain it. I’m realizing that I wasted way too much time worrying what other people think of me.”

She looked up at him with two of the darkest brown eyes h
e’d
ever seen and asked softly, “Are you okay with it?”

“As long as it doesn’t make you regret your time here.”

She touched just above his heart. “I don’t. I won’t.”

Charles cleared his throat. “Celebrity status doesn’t come without a price. The paparazzi are downstairs. The way out to the car has been cleared, but anything could happen. You have two bodyguards. If we do encounter the press, let the bodyguards do their jobs. They’ll keep everyone away from you. Keep walking. The paparazzi will say anything to try to get a response out of you. Ignore them.”

Melanie’s eyes darkened with emotion. She lowered her hand and turned away. “Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

Charles grabbed her hand and swung her back to him, pulling her flush against him and arching her backward over his arm. She struggled, but he held her immobile as he fought back a wave of emotion. Couldn’t she see that he was trying to protect her? “The public can be nasty. The same people who called you a hero today might call you my whore tomorro
w . . .
”

Her chin rose defiantly. “Is that what I am?”

“No. You’r
e . . .
”

He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t know what she was to him. This was all new. The civilized lover h
e’d
always been slid away when he was with her. He wanted to do more than fuck her; he wanted to own her. An image of her, tied to his bed, completely under his control, filled his imagination and sent blood rushing down into his already half-erect cock. Desire thwarted his ability to engage in any verbal sparring match with her. He bent his head and claimed her mouth with his.

Her gasp of surprise was all the invitation he needed. He thrust his tongue past her slightly parted lips and kissed her with all the emotions swirling within him.
Mine.

Melanie wrapped her arms around his neck, arching even more intimately against him. She opened her mouth wider to him, pulling him deeper into her until he couldn’t think past his need to sink into her again and again. The more he tried to claim her, the more of himself he gave to her and it shook him.

He broke free of the kiss and unwrapped her arms from around his neck as he fought to regain control of the situation again. “Tonight you stay at my apartment,” he growled.

Breathing as heavily as he was, she raised a hand to her kiss-swollen lips but didn’t protest. Confusion and desire warred in her eyes as strongly as they did within him.

Charles grabbed her purse from the bed and handed it to her, then took her arm and guided her out of the hotel room. A security team met them in the hallway and escorted them out a back door to the car that awaited them. Charles gave them instructions to have her things brought over to his place while they were at the party. A party that would only get a cameo appearance from him.

Once seated in the back of his limo a foot away from Melanie, Charles turned to her and said, “Stay one more week. I’ll fly you back next weekend.”

She looked him in the eye and shook her head. “No. Don’t start changing the rules now. I’m flying home on Monday. That’s it. That’s all I agreed to.”

Arms folded across her chest, Melanie kept her eyes focused on the lim
o’s
dividing panel. For a long time she and Charles didn’t speak, even as the car left the packed buildings of Manhattan behind and entered the more upscale suburb of Westchester.

“Why did you come to New York, Melanie?” Charles finally asked as if the question were wrung from him.

Maybe because she wanted to ensure their time together would have a clean ending or maybe because she was still angry with herself, Melanie threw the truth at him. “To find Jace’s father.”

His head snapped toward her. “And did you?” he demanded.

“Not yet.”

Face tight, Charles asked, “Do you still love him?”

“And if I said I do?” she challenged.

He let out a slow breath. “It wouldn’t matter.”

Melanie looked out the limo window.
Because this is just about the sex. Don’t forget that.

Charles possessively caressed one of her thighs. “I don’t like the idea of you and another man.”

It wasn’t at all what sh
e’d
expected Charles to say. She glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise. His eyes were dark with emotion and a history of pain he tried to deny. “Really?” she prompted softly. She couldn’t help but push him further. “You don’t have the right to feel one way or another about anything I do.”

His hand tightened on her thigh. “I don’t?”

The air in the limo was charged with emotion, which had to be momentarily put aside when the vehicle pulled into a private courtyard in front of a mansion and came to a halt. As expected, the driver opened the rear door a moment later.

Charles helped Melanie out of the limo and held on to her hand. He pulled her closer to him as they walked toward the entrance of the home. “This conversation is not over.”

He’s jealous.

The idea was both inconceivable and exciting for Melanie.

A butler in a dark suit opened the door of the private residence and welcomed them.

“Good evening, Mr. Dery.”

“Good evening.”

“Mr. Reed is in the main salon and asking about you.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Melanie and Charles stepped into the foyer, moving farther inside proved difficult. Everywhere she looked there were elegantly dressed couples sipping glasses of champagne from crystal flutes. The main entry of the home was the size of Melanie’s house back in Texas, and the chandelier that hung above them wouldn’t have fit in the bed of her truck.

Melanie’s head spun with the number of people who approached them. She was pretty sure she could have sold tickets to meet with Charles, the way people lined up, waiting for their turn to speak to him. He introduced her to each of them and guided her slowly through the crowd.

Charles bent his head to her ear and said, “Neil Reed hosts this fund-raiser party every year. There’s always a theme to the silent auction.”

Melanie nodded. “Our local church has those. Everyone donates a basket, and the person who writes the largest amount on the sheet next to it before the end of the auction wins it. One year it raised over a thousand dollars for our food bank. Is this the same?”

With a small smile, Charles said, “Essentially.”

“Which charity does tonight’s auction support?”

Charles frowned. “I don’t remember.”

“Isn’t that the point of this?” Melanie looked around at the outrageously expensive jewelry on the women around her. Diamonds everywhere. She didn’t know clothing designers, but if she had to guess, there wasn’t a gown in the room that had been bought off the rack.

Charles looked uncomfortable with the question, but Melanie didn’t back down from it. Finally, he said, “Yes, for everyone here—well, except for the McMillans, who are notoriously cheap.”

“And you’ll all be lauded for your donations even though you don’t care about the actual charity.”

“It’ll be a worthwhile cause or Reed wouldn’t have chosen it. Rather than get upset, when I introduce you to Reed just ask him where the money goes.”

“You’re missing the point,” Melanie said and pursed her lips angrily.
I want you to care—care about tonight, care about me—about Jace.
His indifference to the charity of the evening fit what Sarah had said about her brother. He didn’t let himself get involved.

The crowd parted as they approached the host.

A man who appeared to be in his late fifties broke away from the circle of men he was talking to when he saw Charles. “I didn’t think you were going to make it, Charles. You’re not one to be late.”

Charles shook the man’s hand. “Neil, good to see you.
I’d
like you to meet Melanie Hanna.”

There was a light of recognition in the older man’s eyes, and for a moment he looked like he was tempted to say something. But then he offered his hand to Melanie with a polite smile. “A pleasure, Miss Hanna.”

He turned and gestured toward the white linen–covered table in an adjacent room that displayed photos of the auction items. “This year it’s all vehicles. We need someone like you to start the bidding on the Viper. I
t’d
be a shame to return a prize like that.”

Charles nodded. “I’ll check it out. Where is the money going this year, Neil?” Charles asked as if inquiring about the weather.

The older man looked behind him and squinted as he read a small poster across the room. “I need my glasses to read that far away. My wife picked it. Literacy fo
r . . .
Damn, it’s over on the wall. She told me. If she asks, say I knew. I can’t keep up.”

As if the conversation had made his point, Charles swept Melanie to the table with the auction items. Melanie wasn’t a car connoisseur, but even she knew how expensive the donated vehicles were. Bentleys, Porches, even a Rolls Royce. They stopped in front of a photo of a red SRT Viper and Melanie bent to read the details. She stood straight up with a gasp and her eyes flew to Charles. “Does that say that the starting bid is a hundred and fifty?”

Charles bent beside her and answered blandly. “It does.”

“Thousand?”

Charles nodded.

Melanie looked at the photo of the car again and then back at Charles. She waved a hand above one shoulder in the direction of the host sh
e’d
just met. “That ma
n . . .
”

“Neil Reed,” Charles supplied the man’s name as Melanie struggled for it.

“He thinks you’re the one who will bid on this? Yo
u’d
drop that on a charity you don’t even know?”

Face tight, Charles once again looked uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Some women would be impressed by the mere fact that I could do it.”

Melanie looked around the room again. Women were eyeing Charles as a hungry crowd would an hors d’oeuvre tray. Would he be with one of them next week?

Charles guided her to the far corner of the room. “That was tactless of me. You’re entitled to your opinion.”

Melanie looked up at him through her lashes. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel badly, Charles. Donating to charities is a good thing.”

“But?”

She couldn’t hold her questions in any longer. “But don’t you want to know who you help? Don’t you care?”

There it was again, that sad look in his eyes. The one that made her want to hug him and never let him go. “No. No, I don’t.”

In that moment she saw past his denial, past his surface indifference, and glimpsed a pain she understood. H
e’d
been hurt and didn’t want to be hurt again, so he kept his distance. Sh
e’d
done the same. She took one of his hands in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. They stood staring into each other’s eyes, their connection going beyond the sexual attraction that had brought them together. She understood and accepted him. “I get that.”

He nodded and let out a long, slow breath as if her words had relieved a long-held tension. “I asked my lawyer to find out what happened to the kid who tried to steal your purse.”

“You did?” Mixed emotions filled Melanie. She didn’t want to find another reason to like Charles. He was already going to be impossible to forget.

“When I saw myself in the video, I wasn’t proud of my reaction to the kid. You said I wasn’t the man you thought I was—I wasn’t the man I thought I was, either.”

A lump of emotion clogged Melanie’s throat. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re a good man, Charles. Don’t listen to me. I’m all talk. I told you to care about him, but what have I done for him? Nothing. I’m not exactly living up to who I thought I was, either.”