Tycoon Takedown (10 page)

“We’re a sorry pair,” Charles said drolly, lightening the mood with a dash of humor.

“The worst.” Melanie smiled and then Charles did.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. Suddenly serious, he asked, “What do I do when I find him?”

Melanie wiped away a stray tear his question elicited. “You see if he has a place to sleep, food to eat. You take some of that money you would have donated tonight and you make sure he has shoes that fit him.”

“I don’t in—” He cut off what he was about to say and started again. “He might expect much more than I’m willing to give.”

“Maybe,” Melanie said. “Or maybe you will change the course of his life.”

Charles pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “We should go back to mingling unless we want to end up in another online video.”

With a chuckle, Melanie agreed. After meeting another wave of people, she excused herself to find a bathroom, seeking a moment to clear her head. She was alone in one of the long hallways when a man, maybe in his late thirties, who looked like h
e’d
had a few too many drinks, stepped into her path. Melanie veered to the side, but he stepped with her.

“You’re too beautiful to be with a man like Dery.”

The lust in the slick man’s eyes made Melanie’s skin crawl. Sh
e’d
spent the past five years living on a ranch with all men. She wasn’t easily intimidated, but there was something dark about the man. Something vile. She was about to turn and head back to the party when he grabbed her arm.

“Are you as rough in bed as you are on the street?”

Melanie tried unsuccessfully to pull her arm free of the man’s grasp, but he was stronger than sh
e’d
anticipated. “Get your hands off of me. Charle
s . . .
”

He tugged her a step closer, the side of his hand brushing over the curve of her breast while the stench of his alcohol-laced breath assaulted her senses. “You think h
e’d
do anything if he saw me with you? My father would crush him if I told him to.”

Anger filled Melanie as the man’s hold bit down into her arm. She snarled, “I don’t need Charles to defend me. You think you scare me? I’ve castrated bulls without blinking an eye. I’m trying to be on my best behavior, but I will seriously kick your ass if you don’t remove your hand right now.”

The man released her and raised a hand, whether to strike her or emphasize his next words, Melanie didn’t know—and she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. She turned and walked into a wall of muscle.

Charles.

He touched her arm where there was still a mark from the other man. He put Melanie behind him and said, “Ethan, you know better than to mistreat a woman.” He advanced on the other man, his actions in direct opposition to his words. He looked about to wring the smaller man’s neck. “Especially one who belongs to someone else.”

Ethan took a step back. “Careful, Charles. My father would ruin you if you ever touched me.”

“Your father won’t do me in. The law will, because if I get my hands on you, I will kill you.” Charles took another step forward and the other man made a hasty and cowardly retreat.

When Charles didn’t immediately turn back to face Melanie, she walked over to him and lightly touched his tense back. His muscles flexed with aggression beneath her hand. “Forget it, Charles. I’m fine.”

Charles swung around, his eyes burning with fury. “He needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. I don’t mind teaching him that lesso
n . . .
”

“His fathe
r . . .
”

“Will transfer him to his branch office in Asia,” Charles said, taking a deep breath.

“Why would he do that?” Melanie asked, her eyes rounding.

“Because when it comes to business, information is power, and I know enough about the trouble Neil’s company is having to send his stocks plummeting to zero. And he knows it.” Composing himself, Charles forced a smile. “Come on, let’s say our good-byes and go home.”

The way he said “home” sent a shiver down Melanie’s spine. Guiding her back through the party, she smiled politely as he explained to a few key people why they had to leave early. Honestly, she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying.

That one word stuck in her head.

“Home.”

H
e’d
said it so easily—as if they had the same one.

Chapter Ten

“
That was actually fun,” Melanie said as she snuggled up to Charles on the ride back to his apartment.

Charles nuzzled her hair. “You sound surprised.”

Melanie took a moment to enjoy the beat of his heart beneath her ear before answering. “I don’t consider myself a city girl, but when we spoke to that couple from upstate New Yor
k . . .
”

“The Brenners.”

“Yes, I loved when the husband told the story about how his wife convinced him to create a company softball team and then was mortified when they lost every game. My side still hurts from laughing so hard. Didn’t he say they were in their third season of techie-ball—softball the way only computer nerds could play it? He was hilarious.”

Charles nodded with a chuckle. “A man in love will do some crazy things.”

They both froze as his words hung in the air. Eventually, Melanie was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, both he and his wife were very nice.”

Charles cleared his throat and absently rubbed a hand down Melanie’s arm as if he was deep in his own thoughts. “They were.”

Resting her cheek on his shoulder, Melanie said, “I don’t love Todd. I never did. I was young and stupid at the end of my junior year in college. I knew his reputation, but I thought I was different. It only took one time to create Jace.”

“I don’t have much respect for a man who doesn’t support his children—no matter how they were created.”

Melanie closed her eyes and confessed. “He doesn’t know Jace exists. I never told him.”

Charles tensed beneath her but remained silent.

Shrugging in the face of her shame, Melanie said, “I told you I’m no saint.”

Charles cupped her chin and raised her face to his. “So why tell him now?”

Melanie searched his face for a hint of how he felt, but his expression was carefully neutral. “Jace wants to know about his father. My son is growing up fast. He needs a mother who isn’t ashamed of how he came to be. And who isn’t too much of a coward to at least tell his father the truth.”

The limo pulled up to the apartment building and Charles helped Melanie out. Without speaking, they walked inside and rode the elevator up to his penthouse.

“We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of, Melanie,” Charles said once they were inside his apartment.

Melanie wanted to tell him that she knew what he was referring to, but she held her silence just as Sarah had asked her to. “I was surprised you wanted to leave before they announced the auction winners. Did you bid on anything?”

“No,” Charles said gruffly. “I consider not strangling Ethan Reed my charitable act for the evening.”

“I’ve seen your temper. I agree.”

“You have?”

“The first time I met you was right after yo
u’d
punched Tony. I thought the two of you were set to kill each other.”

“So you threw lemonade in our faces.”

Melanie hid a smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Charles made a noncommittal grunt deep in his chest. “It did. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.”

Melanie held his eyes and her breath. “No?”

“No. I couldn’t get you out of my head. You were full of fire and spunk. The women here aren’t pushovers by any definition, but you were different. I can’t explain it.”

“I thought you were unbearably arrogant.”

“Really?” he growled as he kissed her neck. “And now?”

She laughed and pulled his head down for a kiss. “I kind of like it.”

“Is there anything else you like?” he asked as their bantering turned sexual.

“Oh yes.”

Charles woke up early and made phone calls that would allow him uninterrupted time with Melanie.
Three fucking days left.

He dragged her out of his apartment and to tourist sites because he had to get himself under control. By then his interest in her should have been waning. He should have been sick of her laugh, annoyed by something she said, or simply bored.

I shouldn’t be angry, but I am. Angry with myself for wanting her to stay longer.

They were standing at the foot of the Statue of Liberty when he looked down into her eyes and suddenly wanted to know more about her. “What did you study in college?”

She shrugged, seeming embarrassed by the question. “Does it matter? It feels like another lifetime.” He waited and she finally answered, “Interior design. I had a sketchbook that I used to take everywhere with me. The strangest things could inspire me and I wanted to capture it all. I wouldn’t know how
I’d
use every item, but then
I’d
come across the perfect place for i
t . . .
and it fit as if it had been meant for that space.” She looked down, then back up again shyly. “I considered myself an artist of sorts, but one who made a picture you could live in.”

He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “You should finish your degree.”

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, letting the wind carry her hair off her shoulders. “Maybe someday.”

He pulled her back so she rested against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I could pay for your classes.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want your money.”

“I
t’d
be nothing to me.”

“Exactly,” she said and stepped out of his embrace, the distance between them stretching farther than just the step she took. “What about you? What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I’m doing it,” he said somewhat defensively.

“So you have everything you want?” she asked without looking at him.

He felt her putting up walls to protect herself from him and growled, “Not everything.”

“Sarah told me you don’t visit your parents very often.”

“I do when I have time.”

“Do you?” she turned and looked up at him.

He couldn’t sustain the lie. “No.”

Melanie hugged her arms around herself and said, “It sucks, doesn’t it? I used to watch those after-school television specials and love how everyone made up after a fight. Always a happy ending. That’s not life, though. My parents and I had a huge falling-out when Jace was born and we’ve never gotten past it. I visit my parents, but it’s not the way it was before. Amazing how you can be in the same room with someone and still feel so far away from them.”

“Is that why you moved to Carlton’s ranch?”

Melanie nodded. “
I’d
left my parents’ home without a good plan of what to do next. David was actually the one who hired me. H
e’d
heard about my situation and sought me out. He’s like that. He can’t walk away from a person in need. It’s how he ended up working with Tony. Tony was losing a battle with alcohol after one of his clients died. David pulled him back from the edge, so to speak. Saved his life, really. And saved mine in a way.”

At first Charles wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was grateful to the man even though Melanie’s admiration for him ignited a twinge of jealousy. “David is the ranch manager I met? The beefy one?”

Melanie smiled. “He
is
a pretty big guy. Cowboys come to that naturally. It’s a tough life. A lot of manual labor, but I don’t think David would want it any other way.”

The only thing Charles liked less than imagining Melanie living on that ranch with a bunch of single men was the idea of her returning to it. “The two of you are close?”

“Yes. He helps me with Jace. And I’ve never met a kinder man.”

“He sounds perfect for you,” he said, hating the jealousy he could hear in his own voice.

“He would be,” Melanie said, and Charles’s heart froze in his chest. “But I don’t love him. I’m holding out for someone I can’t live without.”

He let out a slow breath.

“What about you?” Melanie asked. “What are you waiting for?”

Her question shot right through him, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. He checked the time on his phone. “Let’s head back. The island is about to close.”

She studied his expression. “I bet you could keep it open if you wanted to.”

She wasn’t talking about the island and they both knew it. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He wasn’t ready to commit to more, but he also wasn’t ready to let her go.

Later they walked around Central Park and out onto the streets, hand in hand. Charles couldn’t remember the last time h
e’d
felt—dare he admit it to himself?—happy. He looked down at her and caught her smiling. “How does New York compare to the way yo
u’d
imagined it?”

“Better, except for the smell,” she joked.

“Says the woman who lives on a horse ranch,” he countered with easy humor.

“It’s all what you’re used to, I guess. People aren’t very friendly here, but they aren’t overly friendly where I’m from, either. Not anymore. The town I grew up in has changed a lot since I was in grade school. Businesses moved out. The economy took a dive. A lot of people had to leave to support their families.” She shrugged. “No, New York hasn’t surprised me too much. Except the hotel’s bellman. He loves me. Can’t stop asking me if I need anything. I gave him a five-dollar tip when he brought up my bags. Maybe not many people remember to do that?”

Charles hid a smile. H
e’d
handed the man a hundred-dollar bill that night and told him to keep an eye on her for him, promising to leave him more if she was satisfied with the hotel when she checked out. Melanie’s innocence when it came to how the city worked was a delight to watch. “That must be it.”

The evening was cooling off nicely and their stroll took them back to the streets. Charles told his driver they wanted to walk for a while and that h
e’d
call when they needed him. He had two plainclothes security men scouting ahead, blending into the crowd, but the initial fervor over their video seemed to be dying down. Nothing stayed in the headlines long in a city that moved as fast as New York did.

As they walked by a mostly vacant sandwich shop, Melanie paused to read the menu. She said, “They have chili. You think anyone up here knows how to make it?”

“What are you saying about my city?”

She smiled cheekily. “I’m saying y’all think you’re badass, but I could bring the heat.”

You already do,
Charles thought, and shook his head to clear the images of what he would do with her later. He guided her inside the small shop and to the counter. “One chili and two waters,” he ordered.

Melanie smiled again. “I doubt I’ll need the chaser.”

Charles couldn’t help smiling right along with her. When he was with Melanie, his mind wasn’t racing with everything he needed to do when he returned to his office. He was in the moment and loving every second of it. “We’ll see.”

Seated at a small round table in the corner of the shop, Melanie closed her eyes while tasting the chili. She took her time evaluating it, then opened her eyes and, with painstaking slowness, licked the spoon clean. “Not half bad, but I’m not sweating.”

I am.

“Do you want to try it?” she asked.

“What?” He was lost to the image of her tongue circling the tip of his cock the way it had circled the spoon.

“The chili.” Melanie laughed and scooped a spoonful out of the cardboard bowl.

Charles obediently opened his mouth, holding her eyes, and not letting go of the scenario running through his mind. There was a mild burn from the spices in the chili, but nothing that could compete with the sensations that throbbed through him every time she smiled.

A heavyset woman in an apron, who looked to be in her late forties, approached their table. She noted Melanie’s Western clothing and said, “I have to ask, what do think?”

You should go away,
is what Charles thought, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t want anything to interrupt their day together, but Melanie had already turned and was smiling at the woman.

Melanie took another bite of the chili and answered in a kind tone, “You have all the right ingredients, but it lacks fire. My mother always said if you’re going to make chili, you make it so that people have no choice but to remember it.”

The woman took a notepad out of her apron. “What would you change?”

“It’s not a recipe,” Melanie said vaguely, “but you know when you’ve achieved it. Would you like me to show you? I could tweak what you’ve already made.” Then she stopped and looked at Charles, suddenly self-conscious. “If we have time.”

Watching Melanie light up while talking to the other woman was mesmerizing and something that Charles didn’t want to miss, even though it meant temporarily postponing his plans for the rest of the evening.

“My husband does the cooking here,” the other woman said. She walked away to talk to the man behind the counter, then returned with a funny expression. She studied the two of them, looked back at her husband, and nodded. “Danny says you can change anything on the menu as long as we can have a picture of you two.”

Melanie sat up straight with surprise. “Why would anyone want—”

Charles stood, preparing to escort Melanie out of the shop. “That’s not going to—”

The woman put her hand up to stop them. “Please. We would only put the picture on the wall.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you two when you came in. You’re all over the Internet. No one will believe you were here without a photo.” After a pause the woman offered, “We could name the chili after you.”

Melanie stood beside Charles and asked, “How could I refuse that offer?” She wasn’t asking his permission, but he nodded and gave it anyway. She followed the woman behind the counter, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and donned an apron.

Bemused, Charles watched Melanie laugh with two complete strangers while she added spices and Tabasco sauce to their chili. She tasted it, then added more spices, and tasted it again. When she was finally satisfied, she scooped some out for each of them to sample.

The owners snapped a picture of Melanie leaning across the counter to spoon-feed a taste to Charles. He was about to tell them to delete it and use another shot, but the chili scorched all thought out of him. Sweat instantly beaded on his forehead and he shamelessly reached for the water bottle behind him.