Bait: Alpha Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (24 page)

Chapter 16

Nolan

“Up!” A man growled beside my head. Or was he beside me?

I tore back the Egyptian cotton sheets so the cooler air could caress my fevered skin. That damn dream again. And the throbbing pain that started in the center of my brain and cast its digging tentacles outward until I became enveloped in a painful cocoon of hung the fuck over. How much scotch had I drunk? Felt like the whole bottle.

I groaned and covered my dick with a hand. Somehow, I’d managed to undress myself in the Charlie-lacking stupor of the night before.

“Get up, you spoiled rotten brat,” the man said again.

The familiarity of that voice collided with my aching consciousness. My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the irate visage of the one and only Grantham Banks. Dad held my sheet in one hand, his gaze blazing anger I’d only witnessed once before. But this time, it was directed at me because my mother was blissfully absent.

“Hey, Dad. Didn’t expect to see you for another two months.”

“What the fuck have you done, ignorant whelp?” he thundered, whipping the sheet back and tossing it at my chest. “I should have produced an heir and a spare like they did in Regency England. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of spreading your mother’s liposuctioned legs again.”

The covers collided with my torso and I took the opportunity to wrap them around my bottom half. “Dad, I have no idea what prompted this early visit, so you’ll have to articulate it. Obviously, I’ve done something pretty bad if it warranted a return from an international business trip.”

“Cut the crap,” he replied. “I left you in charge again, and this is what happens? Nolan, I thought when I created Banks Realty and allowed you to put your business degree to good use, you’d grow up. It seems you’re reverting backward. This is New York City, dipshit, not Sigma Nu. We don’t play beer pong; we make billion dollar deals.”

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, throwing my hands up to my pounding head, hoping to stop the marching band there from crashing the symbols. “What is the emergency? And can you please, please, pass me a damn aspirin?”

Dad snatched the plastic bottle containing white orbs of relief from the top of my dressing table and launched it at my head. I caught it and fumbled two of the pills into my palm, then crunched them between my teeth. “Thank you,” I said through the coating of powder.

“Charlene is gone, the housing project has stalled without your guidance, and now Banks Realty is pissing money like someone shot a hole in its dick. Care to explain that to me, Nolan?”

I massaged my temples and tried to process the information. He wasn’t really telling me anything I didn’t already know. Which meant he’d had his account from my mother. And I use the word “account” loosely. She’d lied and manipulated my father home for her own selfish gains.

“Bill Rivers, my personal accountant, called me to ask if I had authorized the expenditures. My financial guy of over thirty years, Nolan Abraham Banks. And he faxed over the receipts. Bills with my name written on them. My name!”

“I didn’t write your name on anything.”

“Then who did?” Grantham asked, his face turning a mottled shade of deep purple. Rather like a cabbage. Fear hit me in the middle of my chest like I’d been kicked with a weighted boot. The one man I couldn’t bullshit or charm stood in front of me, pissed as hell. Dad was a force to be reckoned with and still had a black belt in Judo. All it would take is one high kick to snap my neck in half.

“My educated guess is the person you’re married to. You’re the one who let her get her manicured paws into the fucking real estate business. She tried to frame Charlie for it. Made out like she’s been embezzling money in front of the press. Charlie’s the most straight-laced person I’ve ever met. She was an asset to the company. But then… you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Grantham Banks blinked at that revelation. He drew in a breath, held it for four counts, then released. The red drained from his cheeks.

“I think I know who it was, and this time, it isn’t the wrinkled barracuda poised on Jimmy Choos.”

“Shit. If it wasn’t Mom and it wasn’t Charlie than who was it? Who could hate us that much to rig an inside job? Our competitors don’t have that kind of access or knowledge of the inner workings of our business.”

“Jasmine.”

I sat up slowly, a realization finally dawning in my dim-witted, pulsing mind. “Jasmine St. James.” All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place. It made perfect sense. As much as my mother annoyed me, I doubted she had the capability to mastermind such a plot. I wondered how Jasmine hoodwinked my mom into helping her. “Mom brought her back to Banks Realty a few weeks ago.”

“Who gave your mother the authority to hire and fire?” Grantham asked. “Who gave her authority to go near my business?”

“Uh, you did, Dad,” I said, taking in my dad’s genuinely confused and frustrated expression. His brow furrowed and he pursed his lips into a tight line. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for weeks about it. Mom rolled into the office in all her Michael Kors-clad passive-aggressive glory. She said you’d elected her to make sure I didn’t fuck up again.”

Grantham Banks actually gasped.

In all my years working for Dad, I had never seen him unhinged by anything. Not the untimely collapse of a business deal, nor the bankruptcy of one of his early companies. I had literally never seen him like this. It scared the living shit out of me.

“You didn’t give her approval to do that?” I asked. Even though I already knew the answer, the question still fell from my lips to drop in the vicinity of his shoes along with my stomach.

“Of course I didn’t.” He shook his head. “Your mother doesn’t have a clue about business.”

“You can say that again. She brought Jasmine back. I had her escorted off the premises, by security, but she keeps cropping up every time I turn around.”

“Jasmine,” he spat. “Christ. Not my finest moment.”

“Yeah, it’s like your worst enemy and your best head have teamed up to combat your success and implode your thirty-year marriage.”

Irony was strong in this situation. I wouldn’t put it past Jasmine to seek revenge against my father. Especially if he’d made the woman empty promises he had no intention of honoring. But my mom had pride and I seriously doubted she knew anything about the affair.

“That bitch is trying to ruin me,” Dad said. “And no one gets away with hurting Grantham Banks. No one.”

He took a step back and leaned against my nightstand. He shook his head, then felt the frown lines on his forehead, running his fingertips through the grooves.

“She’s a vicious bitch, which is why I fired her and was willing to face your wrath over that very decision. Jasmine was such a tyrant in the office it had turned into a potential lawsuit situation. And now she’s taken Charlie down with her. Everyone believes that Charlie did something unethical during her tenure at Banks Realty. It’s a blatant fucking lie, and I won’t stand for it.”

Dad ignored me, just kept fondling his frown lines and mumbling under his breath. Thinking. Plotting. Strategizing.

“What are
you
going to do about this?” I asked as I rose from the comfort of my mattress and risked the blood rushing to my aching head. I tucked the headache away, filing the pain for later dissection. I walked to my closet, ripped it open and started throwing on clothes.

“We’re going to Banks Realty, and we’re going to make your mother say my name.”

“Let’s not spill any blood when we nail her to the cross,” I replied, slipping on an Armani suit. “This is a new suit; blood spatters would ruin it. It was a splurge.”

Grantham ignored me again. He possessed a ruthless charm and polished sophistication that paired well with my sarcastic easy-going ways. He clicked his fingers for me to follow, then marched out of the door, carrying the weight of his power over his shoulders like a cloak.

Chapter 17

Charlie

Wildair had a light but cozy atmosphere. The rows of tables were set against the backdrop of brick-faced walls and the wood-ensconced fluorescent lights overhead created an ambiance I couldn’t get on board with. Quaint. Romantic.

There was nothing wrong with the restaurant. The food had blown my mind and taste buds – spicy chopped tuna on toast and crispy squid with green onions. Perfection which melted in the mouth. But the hot man sitting across from me wasn’t
him
.

Callum sat tall and proud, doing and saying all the right things. Treating me with respect and admiration. Like I mattered. And yet, I felt… nothing. No racing pulse or tingling in my limbs. No itching in my lips to latch them on to his full ones. No urge to tug the corners up into a stunning smile like the one he’d been gracing me with since he’d picked me up outside my apartment.

I shouldn’t have done this. A selfish act because I wanted to forget someone who was simply unforgettable. I should have known better, and now I wasn’t putting my best foot forward with a man I truly liked.

Callum tipped his wine glass in my direction, and I clinked mine against it, the pinging sound echoing through my troubled heart.

“To a fantastic evening,” he said.

“I second that.” I nodded and drank deeply from the glass, hoping the expensive vintage would fortify me for the night ahead. Pulling from the recesses of my soul, I plastered on a more pleasant face, determined to show him a good time. After all, no one else had visited me to lend a shoulder or an ear since Anne Banks had blown my life wide open. The least I could do is treat Callum like the friend he was. The dry wine coated the back of my throat, and I welcomed the numbing sensation that spread through my limbs.

Callum had been the perfect gentleman from the moment he’d picked me up, right through dinner. He’d filled my awkward lapses in conversation with funny tales from his childhood, making me laugh and forget my heartache for a few precious moments. I especially enjoyed the time he’d fallen out of a tree while spying on the neighbors because he’d been convinced they were undercover FBI agents.

He was awesome, handsome, anything a woman might want. But he wasn’t Nolan.

I drained my glass and just couldn’t plaster on my fake smile a moment longer. It was time to raise the white flag.

“I really enjoyed this,” Callum said and poured more wine into his own glass before offering to pour into mine. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the opportunity to officially court you.”

“Court me? This isn’t Amish country; that’s in Pennsylvania,” I said, then laughed to turn the snap into a joke. His gaze speared me with his desire, and I just couldn’t hold it. To do so wouldn’t be fair because I didn’t feel the same. My wounds were raw and oozing.

He chuckled too. “I know. You’re just so beautiful, Charlie. So intelligent. I wanted nothing more than to ask you out the minute you appeared at Banks Realty. But Jasmine was clear on her no fraternization policy. I didn’t dare lest she spear me in the heart with a wooden stake.”

I turned my head and looked out of the front windows of the restaurant. I’d been chasing Nolan around in my brain for too long. Nights of dreaming about him, about being in his arms. Days of watching him from afar or spending moments close to him that’d been too precious for words to articulate. And now… I’d never be over him. Not completely. Not while I was in New York, where everywhere I turned I’d see his face.

I twirled the stem of the wine glass between my fingers. Nolan Banks. Why couldn’t it have been real instead of some rich fabrication molded to look like love? Why did I always choose the men who would hurt me, rather than cherish me? I spent my entire life trying to outrun my past so I could feel secure and good enough, and along came Nolan to blow my tenuous self-esteem to smithereens. For a split second, I’d actually thought he could care about me for a lifetime.

“Charlie, I know that this is a difficult time for you,” Callum said, breaking through my painful musings to bring my attention back to him. I lifted my eyes from the red liquid twirling in my long-stemmed glass.

I focused on his chiseled face. Wishing. Hoping. But nothing sparked to life inside me. “I’m fine,” I said. “Promise. I’m just, uh, my mind was on The Grant Project. I’d really hoped to hit it out of the park for some single parents, and I can’t even get to the plate.”

“Maybe not, but it’s going ahead as planned, so ultimately, the single parents of the community will have that as a choice of a safe place to live with their kids. You don’t have to worry about it. Chase Bradenton has got it under control.”

Callum didn’t mention Nolan’s name, but I could almost feel it sitting on the tip of his tongue. He probably had questions. Maybe he wanted to know whether I’d truly been brokenhearted or whether the rumors of a fake engagement were true.

I would’ve had questions in his position. I could only pray that he wouldn’t ask them because I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to tell the truth either.

“I, uh, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he stuttered, blushing to the roots of his spiky hair. “I know it’s not even over yet, but I want to see you again. As soon as you’ll let me. There’s a new exhibit at The Met, and I’ve been wanting to catch it. Care to join me sometime next week? I know you’re not ready for something serious, but we could keep it light and fun for a while? Sound good?”

My heart went cold. It was the way he said light and fun. Charlene de Monaco seeped serious out her every pore. I couldn’t imagine dating this man or any other and keeping it light or fun. All in or all out. I didn’t want to even be on a date with him. I wanted to be in Nolan’s apartment, wrapped in his sheets and his arms.

I scraped my chair back and rose, my white linen napkin floating gently to the floor below. A stark reminder of how sullied I felt. Like a big, fat imposter in a designer dress at a trendy restaurant. I didn’t belong.

“I’m sorry, Charlie, was that too much too soon? We can take it slow. I won’t ask you out again until you’re ready.” Callum held up both palms to placate me. It had the opposite effect.

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come out with you, Callum,” I said, my whisper barely carrying across the table. Panic rose from my gut and traveled up the back of my throat. I could barely draw breath, and I needed to escape the confines of the restaurant.

He leaned in to hear me better. “Why not? You don’t like me?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s something else. It’s, uh, it’s that I don’t think I can like anyone right now. I don’t think I’ll be able to trust anyone ever again.” I stumbled back, then paused to straighten the chair. “Not that you’re not trustworthy. You are. A true catch. I’m just afraid I’m not good enough bait. Thank you for a lovely evening,” I said, choking the words out.

“Charlie, wait,” Callum said, rising from his seat. “At least let me make sure you get safely inside a taxi. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch.”