The Billionaire’s Promise (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) Page 24

Why wouldn't I? Aiden was joking. He couldn't fire me. I was Charlotte Winters, and we were sitting in the executive offices of Winters Incorporated. I'd been working for the family company since I was eighteen. I belonged here. Sometimes it felt like this was the only place I belonged.

  Aiden couldn't fire me. I waited for him to laugh along with me.

  The laugh never came. He sat behind his desk, his usually warm brown eyes chilly and impenetrable. Aiden was the only man I knew who could loom while sitting down. I fought the urge to shrink into my chair.

  I'd seen him aim that cold stare at plenty of people - employees, clients, his ex-wife. Never me.

  "Aiden, you're not firing me," I said, trying to force amusement into my voice. This was all a joke, right? Aiden held my gaze, unflinching. I sat up straight, feeling my own eyes go cold. "Is this about Hayward?"

  Aiden paused for a split second before shaking his head. "This has nothing to do with Hayward," he said, meeting my eyes. He was lying. Wasn't he?

  "You agreed that we had to turn him in. You went with me to the FBI. How can you fire me over it?"

  Aiden's jaw was set as he said, "Charlotte, this has nothing to do with Bruce Hayward. You handled that situation perfectly and I'm proud of your courage."

  "I don't understand."

  "I already told you. You're fired. Security has cleared out your desk. When we're done here, they'll escort you from the building."

  His words were a punch to the gut. Tears threatened. I knew that prickle in the back of my eyes. I bit down on the inside of my lip, my teeth cutting into the tender flesh so hard I tasted the copper of blood. I would not cry. I refused. Swallowing hard, I stood, planting my fisted hands on my hips. I knew I was in real trouble when Aiden stayed where he was.

  If this was about a power play, he would have come to his feet and reestablished his dominance. If he was letting me take physical control of the room, it was only because he knew he'd already won. Fear was an icy wave cresting behind me. When it broke, I'd be lost. I was my job. If he kicked me out of Winters Inc, what would I do? Who was I without the company?

  Steel bands wrapped my ribcage and I couldn't draw a breath. Turning my back on Aiden, I inhaled slowly, digging my nails into my palms and dragging my emotions under control. I'd learned the hard way to keep my feelings to myself. Always. Even with my family. No one saw my pain, my fears. No one saw me cry. Ever. Not since I was ten.

  Aiden knew me better than almost anyone alive, and he gave me the time to pull myself together. Also not a good sign. When I thought I could keep my voice level, I said, "I'd like you to explain this to me. After years of giving everything I have to this company, I'd like to know why you think you can let me go."

  There, I'd done it. I was calm. In control. I was not about to scream and burst into tears. I was not going to curl into a ball and sob. And I was not going to kill Aiden. Not yet.

  In the same cool voice he used when he delivered bad news, he said, "Charlotte, keeping you on isn't what's best for you."

  My voice as icy as his, I asked, "What's best for the company, or what's best for me?"

  "For you. It's not what's best for you," he said.

  A volcano of rage burned away the ice. What the fuck? Keeping a lid on it, just barely, I managed to grind out one word from between my clenched teeth. "Explain."

  Aiden let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, dropping the chilly CEO persona. His eyes on mine had all the warmth I was used to from my big brother. It only made me more furious.

  "Charlie. You've been working here since you were eighteen. It was bad enough when you were in school. Now that you've graduated you work all the time."

  "So do you," I said in a short burst of sound. He did. He worked every day. He was here first and was the last to leave. Except when I was here late. Or early.

  He might have a point about me working too much, but I was no worse than Aiden and he knew it.

  "But I love my job," Aiden said, his tone so gentle I had to fight back tears. "I love this company. I always have. And you don't."

  "You can't fire me for not liking my job!" I shouted. "No one likes their job. That's why it's a job and not a hobby. This is ridiculous!" I felt myself losing control, my fury and terror spiraling up and spewing out of my mouth. "You can't fire me because I don't love my job. I'm an exemplary employee."

  "You are," Aiden interrupted. "You're an excellent Vice President. If you weren't my sister, I'd be giving you a raise."

  That little bit of complete illogic pushed me over the edge. I kicked my chair, sending it rolling to crash into Aiden's huge walnut desk. He didn't flinch. I pointed at him, stabbing my finger into the air to punctuate my rage.

  "This is completely sexist. You're doing this because you want me to get married and start having babies like Maggie."

  "That's absurd," Aiden said with a wince. "I do NOT want you to get married. Jesus. Not until you get better taste in men. And I'd rather not think about my baby sister having babies of her own."

  "You wouldn't be doing this if I were a man," I said, sullen, my arms crossed over my chest.

  "Charlie, how many senior executives do we have who are female?"

  "Seven," I said, knowing the point he was going to make.

  "Exactly. Just under half. And how many of those have families?"

  "Five. So why me? Why are you firing me?"

  I bit my lip to shut down the plaintive whine in my voice. I knew Aiden wasn't sexist. I was grasping at straws. I knew it wasn't my performance. I was good at my job, even if I didn't like it. If it wasn't sexism, then what? Why was he doing this to me? Didn't Aiden understand that my job was all I had?

  "It isn't about your gender, Charlotte," Aiden said in that same gentle tone. "I'd do the same if you were Holden, or Tate. Even Jacob."

  "But not Gage?" I asked, half sarcastic and half trying to figure out what the hell was going through Aiden's oversized brain.

  "Not Gage. Gage loves the company," Aiden said, his tone almost wistful.

  "Then why isn't he here?" I said in exasperation, feeling my temper slipping its leash again.

  "I never should have let you come on board, sweetheart. But you were so determined and I was selfish."

  I sat in my chair abruptly, my anger down to a simmer. "Aiden, you're never selfish." He wasn't. Aiden was about two things - his family and the company. He'd open a vein for any one of us in a second.

  "I was," he insisted. "I never pressured any of the others to join the company. I knew Holden and Tate would find their futures elsewhere. And Jacob loves business, but he needed to run his own shop. With Vance and Annalise it was clear they had no interest in a nine-to-five job. I was right with all of them. Except you."

  "Aiden," I protested, "You always supported me. That's why I don't get this. You don't have to fire me. We can work something out. I'll cut back."

  "I supported you, but I didn't look out for you. I was selfish. I always thought Gage would come home, and we'd do this together. But he's doing what he needs to. I understand that. When you wanted to come on board, I should have told you no."

  "But why?" I begged. "Don't try to tell me I haven't done a good job."

  "I can't. You're bright and you have a head for business. No one works harder. But your heart isn't in it."

  I shoved to my feet. "I'm not the only one here who isn't in love with Winters Incorporated."

  "No, Charlie. But you're the only one who's my sister. I love you. And you're not happy. I can't be a part of that anymore."

  "You don't get to choose that for me."

  "Maybe not. I can't tell you what to do now. You're going to have to figure that out on your own. But I can tell you what you aren't going to do. And that's come to work tomorrow."

  "I'll go somewhere else. There are a hundred companies who would love to give me a job." I wasn't being cocky. It was true. I might not love my job, but I was good at it.

  Aiden shook his head, looking almost sheepish before the
expression dissolved into a grim look that made me nervous. "You won't find another job in Atlanta," he admitted. "You'll have to take some time off to think about what you want."

  "What? You blackballed me? How could you do that?"

  Everything I'd worked for since I was eighteen was slipping between my fingers and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Horror congealed in my stomach. I never cried. Not in front of anyone. I wiped my cheeks with my palms, hurt and anger a hot, poisonous ball in my chest. I would have expected betrayal from anyone else before I would have looked to Aiden. He was more than my older brother. He'd practically raised me after our parents had died.

  Through the blur of my tears I saw him coming towards me. I put up a hand to stop him. If he tried to comfort me I was going to bash him in the head with the heavy Baccarat pen holder on his desk. All our family needed was for me to end up in jail for killing Aiden. After two suspected murder/suicides, we'd had all the scandal we could take.

  I backed up, putting my chair between us. Biting hard on the inside of my lip to stop my tears, I said, "Back off. I hate you right now."

  "I know you do, Charlie. I can live with that. But I miss you. I miss the Charlie you used to be. And I know you miss her too."

  I held my breath, strangling my shout of rage. I stormed out of Aiden's office. No one commented on my red eyes as I rushed through the halls. Aiden had been thoughtful enough to have my desk packed into a box while we were in his office, the bastard. Security didn't exactly escort me out, but they were there, lurking.

  Fucking Aiden. How could he do this to me? What did he mean, he missed me? He saw me every day!

  At the memory of his face when I left, somehow both contrite and resolved, my vision flared with white hot rage, so fierce I was blinded by it. I was not going to think about Aiden. I was not going to think about the scope of his betrayal, or wonder how my beloved brother could have done this to me. If I did, I might swing the car around and go back to the office. If I laid eyes on him again, I'd kill him.

  I barely notice my family home as I sped up the drive. Located on eight wooded acres in the heart of Buckhead, Atlanta's most elite neighborhood, Winters House was a seventeen thousand square foot Mediterranean style mansion. At that size it could have been imposing, but the warm, creamy walls and red tile roof gave it the look of a historic Italian villa, both welcoming and impressive.

  Built in a square around a central courtyard, the design made the big building intimate, as well as more secure. When I was a child, the inner gate had never been closed. After my parents died, we'd all been grateful our home could double as a fortress. With so much of our family gone, we'd wanted to protect what was left.

  I pulled through the circular drive and came to a stop in front of the black iron gate that protected the courtyard. Stabbing my finger at the remote to open it, I waited, vibrating with anger and impatience, for the heavy gate to swing open. I pulled in front of the tall front doors and parked, taking my keys with me. I didn't want the staff to move the car as they usually did. I wouldn't be here long enough.

  For once, I didn't give a thought to how things looked. I just wanted to get my things and get out. The home I'd always loved looked like a prison, complete with my brother as warden. I loved Winters House. We all did, but everyone else had eventually moved out. I'd stayed, not comfortable leaving Aiden to rattle around in the big house by himself, with only staff for company.

  I was over it now. If I had to look at him at the dinner table, I'd stab him with a fork.

  Lucky for me, I had some where to go. Funny how things worked out. A month before I'd bought a run down Craftsman style home in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood. I don't know why. Buying that house was the first irrational thing I'd done since I was a teenager. I didn't need a house. And while real estate could be a good investment that was more Jacob's thing than mine.

  All I can say is that the first time I laid eyes on that house, I wanted it. Now it was mine, and it was a mess. The roof leaked, the plumbing was shot, and the electrical wasn't much better. At least I'd managed to get the single bathroom on the first floor working. A sleeping bag and a mini fridge and I could move in.

  No one was home at Winters House. Another stroke of luck on this unbelievably shitty day. Mrs. Williamson , the family housekeeper, must have been out running errands. There was a gardener, some day maids and a cook, but they were nowhere to be seen. I raced to my suite and slammed the door behind me, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the full length mirror in my dressing room.

  It was like looking at a familiar stranger, even after all these years. I had my mother's shiny auburn hair, but I wore mine pulled back into a restrained, professional chignon. I was her height and had the same curvy build. I could still remember the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her hugs. I'd never be my Mom, but she hadn't wanted me to be her. She'd wanted me to be me.

  I had no idea who that was anymore.

  For a second I had a flash of another me superimposed over the view of my charcoal suit and sensible heels. Me at fifteen, a little plump, wearing a Misfits t-shirt and a paint splattered pair of Converse, a blue streak in my long hair. Before my life changed for the second time. Before Elizabeth moved in. It was the last time I remembered being me. Really, truly me. But I couldn't go back. No one could.

  If I didn't have Winters Incorporated, I had no idea how to go forward.

  I stripped off the suit and pulled on jeans and a sweater. No reason to be dressed up if I was unemployed. Especially if I was going to my house. I loved every decrepit inch, but the place was a mess. Stuffing clothes and toiletries in a bag, I called Maggie. Magnolia Henry was my cousin's fiancé and my best friend. No answer.

  Just before I could leave a message, I remembered she and Vance were out of town with Rosie, Vance's infant daughter. They'd said it was a business trip, but they'd brought along their new nanny and I'd teased Maggie that it was more a pre-honeymoon than a business trip. She'd blushed so pink I'd known I'd been right. If she had any idea what had happened, she'd rush home in a second. I wasn't going to ruin their mini-vacation. I'd just have to handle this on my own.

  I slung the bag over my shoulder and stomped down the stairs, taking a perverse satisfaction in letting my temper out. No need to be professional now. What the hell did I care what anyone thought? It wasn't like I had a job. I didn't even have the prospect of one.

  Aiden had blackballed me. My knees wobbled at the wave of fury. I couldn't seem to get my head around how thoroughly he'd destroyed my career. He knew I wouldn't leave Atlanta. I love my city. Gage and Annalise aside, my family was here. My friends were here. I could probably find something if I was willing to move, but I wasn't going to flee Atlanta because Aiden was a controlling asshole.

  I ground to a halt at the door to his home office. I wasn't above a little petty revenge. Not in my current mood. What I had in mind wasn't petty. On the shelf behind his desk, sat a crystal decanter filled with brown liquid. Aiden's pride and joy. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he did like his whiskey.

  I'd never seen him drunk, but I often joined him in his office for a glass after a long day. We drank whiskey together, but never what was in that decanter. I'd never seen him touch the contents, aside from a single glass the day it had arrived. Carefully, I picked up the decanter and one glass, taking them both with me. He'd be furious. Maybe as furious as I was at being fired. Served him right.

  I didn't stop to think until I was pulling into the cracked and overgrown driveway at my house in the Highlands. I unloaded my bags, locked my car, and took the crystal decanter and glass to the back porch. The covered porch circled the house, and most of it was rotted and unstable. The section outside the back door was safe enough, I thought. I liked to sit out there, admiring my tangle of a yard and imagining what the house would look like when I was finished with it. I'd barely gotten started. Too many hours working and not enough free time.

  I didn't
have that problem now.

  My stomach did an uneasy flip at the reminder that I was unemployed. It wasn't the money. Even accounting for the cost of the house, I had money. I'd been working for Winters Incorporated since my freshman year in college and I'd kept expenses to a minimum.

  Hard to spend money when all I did was work. I still drove Aiden's car, the one he'd given me when I turned sixteen. I'd lived at home, so no rent, mortgage, or utilities. He didn't even let me pay for groceries. I never went on vacation and I rarely shopped except for work clothes. Since buying suits wasn't my idea of fun, I kept that to a minimum too.

  I was twenty-four years old with a flush bank account, but no job and no life. A tiny voice whispered that maybe Aiden had a point. Screw that. It would be a long time before I'd be willing to talk to Aiden, much less admit he might have done the right thing. This was my life. I knew he could be controlling, but firing me was beyond insane.

  Gritting my teeth, I poured myself a generous portion of whiskey into the crystal glass I'd stolen from Aiden's office. At the familiar burn of the liquor, I smiled for the first time since I'd walked into Aiden's office that morning. The whiskey was the best I'd ever had. At fifteen thousand dollars a bottle, it should be. Aiden had bought the Macallan Select Reserve Single Malt at an auction a few years before. He wasn't generally extravagant, but he loved this whiskey.

  I took another sip and grinned, remembering the first time I'd stolen Aiden's whiskey. I'd been thirteen and gotten my backside tanned. Back then, the punishment had been worth it, though I'd thought the whiskey was disgusting. How things had changed.

  Now I welcomed the smooth burn of the Macallan. Aiden had already delivered his punishment, so why not? If he could yank my entire life out from under me, I could drink his ridiculously expensive whiskey. Even the crystal decanter was valuable. A special anniversary edition, it was worth almost as much as the contents. Now all he had of the set was a single glass. I drained every drop of whiskey from the one I'd stolen and refilled it. I was going to get drunk on obscenely expensive whiskey and figure out the rest of my life later.