Tycoon Takedown (2 page)

He should celebrate.

Or at least want to.

Instead, Charles was drawn to the darker corners of his mind. Ever since his sister, Sarah, had moved to Texas and decided that facing the past was her path to happiness, memories of his childhood in Rhode Island had surfaced and choked all pleasure out of his achievements. Ripping open old wounds and confronting the festering guilt had worked well for his sister, but it was slowly tearing down the life Charles had built for himself.

When h
e’d
left his hometown to attend Stanford, h
e’d
sworn h
e’d
exceed everyone’s expectations. As the son of a man who had built a marginally profitable construction company without the benefit of wealthy parents or higher education, Charles had never been afraid of hard work. H
e’d
hit the ground running in New York City, taken an entry-level position at the prestigious Wilmington Investment Company, and quickly built up a reputation for impressing even their wealthiest clients. He was gifted at using statistics to predict financial trends, and his track record for increasing a company or individual’s net worth was becoming as legendary as his rise through the ranks at Wilmington had been.

H
e’d
refused an offer to become a partner, something that had previously been unheard of for someone of his age and background, and had broken away instead to start his own company. Wilmington had tried to thwart him, of course. Tried to utilize noncompete clauses to stop their top clients from following Charles, but when the wealthy want something, nothing stands in their way. And the
y’d
wanted him.

Ten years later, Dery Investments had amassed both domestic and international clout. And now he had Rawlings, arguably the richest man in the Northern Hemisphere, on his roster. In terms of his personal goals for his business, there was no bigger fish to catch. No higher mountain to climb.

I’ve made it.

The achievement rang empty and meaningless through him, which was surprising since the only life h
e’d
allowed himself to have was at work. It consumed him, calmed him, kept the past where it belonged—distant and forgotten.

Successfully behind him until recently.

Fucking rain
. It had rained the day his little brother drowned and the day of his funeral.

The door to his office flew open and his college friend, Mason Thorne, entered unannounced. Charles stood and crossed the room to meet him. It wasn’t surprising that Mason had gotten by June, Charles’s usually efficient secretary. A former teenage movie star turned California politician, Mason still captivated women. June was not, by far, the only woman h
e’d
seen become a stuttering mess around Mason.

Mason had cultivated his own presence. Even in an Armani suit, he looked relaxed and tanned, like h
e’d
come from the beach. He purposely wore his unruly blond hair longer than what would be considered appropriate for a senator. He
wanted
to be underestimated. Only Mason could plow through his opposition ruthlessly, then flash his Hollywood charm and instantly be forgiven by everyone. Including the press.

Charles shook his hand warmly. “What brings you to New York, Mace?”

“You do,” Mason answered easily, and walked over to the window to look out. “Had I known yo
u’d
ordered cold and wet weather, I would have declined.”

Charles shook his head briefly. Their busy schedules meant they didn’t speak as often as they once had. He couldn’t remember their last conversation.

With his usual carefree smile, Mason clarified the reason for his presence. “You’re getting the Astor Philanthropist Award and you invited me to watch you accept it.”

“Oh shit. I forgot it’s tomorrow night.” Then Charles frowned. “I didn’t invite you.”

Mason shrugged. “You mentioned it. Same thing. Did you think
I’d
pass up an opportunity to heckle you?”

With a smile of concession, Charles didn’t argue the point. On the surface, they were different, but Mason was a good friend and Charles was happy to see him. Ever since the
y’d
both played football for Stanford, the
y’d
had each other’s backs. At the time, Mason had been trying to rise above his reputation as a big screen heartthrob and wasn’t being taken seriously by professors or classmates. Charles, at least when compared to many of the other students, had been far removed from the old money clique that ran the school. However, on the football field, both of them had crushed their opponents and earned respect through brute force. By their senior year, they were a formidable force on and off the field. Now in their thirties, neither had time for sports, but they made time for their friendship.

“Is it good form for a senator to heckle someone?”

“Perhaps not good form, but good fun.” Mason looked his friend over with a critical eye. “What’s wrong?”

Charles returned to the seat behind his desk, sat back, and stretched. There were drawbacks to having friends who knew you well. “Nothing.”

Mason shot him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him, and leaned against the marble-topped table beside the window. “Are you still moping about that housekeeper down in Texas? I don’t understand why you won’t call her.”

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Charles said impatiently, “I’m not interested in her.”

Mason rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So you’ve told me. You work your lack of interest in her into almost every conversation we have.”

Charles raised one eyebrow in concession to Mason’s claim. “She surprised me, that’s all. I’m not used to women wh
o . . .
”

“Throw lemonade in your face? I can see how that would be hard to forget.”

Hard to forget? Try fucking impossible.
Charles could recall every detail of the first time h
e’d
met Melanie with a clarity that defied logic. H
e’d
gone down to Texas to convince his sister to come home. He preferred not to remember what Tony had said about Sarah that earned him a punch to the jaw, especially since it now appeared that Tony would soon be his brother-in-law. No, all he really remembered about that day was the fire in Melanie’s eyes while sh
e’d
reprimanded him for his behavior. The attraction had been instant and powerful. “I deserved the dousing.”

“Wish
I’d
been there to see it.” His friend grinned. “How is your sister, anyway?”

“She’s good. Still engaged. I’ve never seen her happier.”

“Are you going back down to see her?”

“Not anytime soon.”

“Because you don’t want to see the housekeeper again.”

“She has a name. It’s Melanie.”

“I know. I just like to give you shit. I want to meet her. Any woman brazen enough to give you a smackdown and beautiful enough for you to accept it, must be amazing.”

“She is,” Charles said and sat up, more surprised by his agreement than Mason appeared to be. The truth irritated him. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll never date her.”

“Because she has a child?”

Charles stood defensively. “You know how I feel about children.”

Mason’s eyes shone with sympathy. “One accident shouldn’t determine the rest of your life.”

“Don’t. Don’t lecture me like your life is any less fucked up than mine is. You want to fix something? Fix yourself.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Mason said in a conciliatory tone. “I didn’t come here to piss you off. Forget I mentioned Texas at all. What are you doing tonight? I have to meet with some Washington cronies who flew in for tomorrow’s award ceremony, but I’m free for dinner after that. We could get a bite somewhere, then go to the opening of
Crushed
. An old friend of mine is starring in it along with some women who are guaranteed to be hot enough to make you forget anyone.”

Charles joined his friend by the window and stared out over the gray skyline. “Dinner sounds good, but I’ll have to call it an early night. I got the Rawlings account. The investment portfolio is due first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Rawlings? When did you find out? Were you going to call me?”

“I found out just now.”

“Then you should definitely come out tonight. We’ll celebrate.”

Charles held his tongue. Mason still clung to a lifestyle that never held much interest for Charles. A night out with Mason meant excessive drinking, followed by a guaranteed hangover and a high likelihood of waking up next to a woman whose name he couldn’t remember. Mason joked that he did his networking beneath the sheets, so to speak—winning his voters one fuck at a time.

And because the son of a bitch had that Hollywood smile, neither women nor the press judged him for his sexcapades.

Mason gave him a healthy smack on the back and turned to leave the office. Charles half turned and said, “Hey, Mason, thanks for coming. I’ll meet you at Red Hill Stone. June will make the reservation for seven.” It was a restaurant some people waited a year to get into, but Charles knew neither of them would have a problem scoring a table.

“Seven works for me.” He paused at the door. “I’ll tell my friends you may join us afterward, in case you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ve seen it happen.”

“Not this time,” Charles said as Mason closed the door behind him.
Maybe I should have said yes.
A good fuck might clear my head.
It was going on months since h
e’d
been with anyone. H
e’d
had opportunities but no interest.

Not since h
e’d
met Melanie.

She wasn’t his type, but he was having a devil of a time remembering why. Each night he lay in bed imagining how he would peel those jeans off her and bury his face between her legs. Tasting her was all he could think abou
t . . .
that and how his name would sound when he drove himself into her and she cried it out in climax.

Opening his eyes, he cursed
.

She was a weakness he refused to give in to. She didn’t belong in his life any more than he belonged in hers. Entertaining the possibility of more, even for a moment, would be a monumental mistake.

Chapter Two

A
fter knocking softly, Charles’s secretary opened the door to his office. “Mr. Dery, your car is downstairs.”

Charles rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Mason had kept him out late last night. Now that Rawlings was officially a client, the challenge would be keeping him. So Charles had worked until the sun came up on a plan that included just enough low-risk investments to put Rawlings at ease as well as cutting-edge ventures that promised substantial payouts.
It’s more aggressive than he’s allowed his portfolio to be up until now, and if I’m right, the results will be enough to quickly impress him.

And his ultrarich friends.

Some of whom would be at the event he was attending that night, which was part of the reason Charles had agreed to speak at it. H
e’d
go and pretend to be moved by what people said about him, but he found these events tiresome. Philanthropy was a political game, even for the charities involved. Good press was good business, nothing less, nothing more.

“June, did you have my tuxedo delivered?”

“Yes,” his secretary answered smoothly. “It’s at your penthouse. You said you wanted to freshen up there. You probably won’t have time to eat at the event, so your housekeeper prepared a salad and sandwich. It’s wrapped and waiting for you in your fridge.”

“Good thinking,” Charles said as he shut down his computer, stood, and stretched. “I sent you an e-mail about Rawlings. If he calls tomorrow, put him through. No matter what I have going on.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Dery.” Instead of leaving, she hovered at the door.

“What is it?”

“You told me not to interrupt you this afternoon, so I didn’t, but your sister called twice. She said it wasn’t urgent. Should I have put her through?”

“Normally, yes, but I needed to concentrate on those numbers, so you chose well. Did she tell you what she wanted?” With his sister, the possibilities were endless. Although having her back in his life was important to him, the detailed retelling of each blissful day she spent with her fiancé on his horse ranch was best listened to while on a treadmill, not in the middle of a workday.

Was I ever that happy?

He thought back to the summers he and his family had spent at their lake house. His memories of those times were filled with laughter. Sarah used to beg him to take her canoeing, then only row for the first hundred feet or so. He may have teased her about it, but he never actually cared.

A sad smile twisted his lips as he remembered the tragic day. The same place that had brought his family so much joy had also torn them apart.

“A friend of hers is flying into LaGuardia tonight,” his secretary said, bringing Charles abruptly back to the present.

“Who?”

“I asked, but she wouldn’t say. She seemed to think you would know who she was talking about.”

“That’s all, June. Thank you,” he said, dismissing her. Seconds after his secretary closed the door behind her, Charles dialed his sister’s number on his cell phone. His heart was thudding heavily in his chest. She picked up almost instantly.

“Charlie, I’ve been calling you all day!”

“Sorry,” he said brusquely. “I’m working on a new project. I gave June instructions to not interrupt me.”

“I figured you were working on something important so I told her not to bother you, but I need to ask you for a favor. Remember my friend Melanie?”

“Yes,” Charles answered vaguely. Sarah already suspected he was attracted to Melanie and the last thing he wanted to do was confirm it. She was under the misguided opinion that he needed someone permanent in his life.

“She’s flying into New York at six. Can you meet her at the airport? She’s never been there.”

Charles looked down at his watch.
Shit.
“I have an engagement at seven thirty.
I’d
never be able to—”

“That’s perfect, then,” Sarah said in a rush. “Just zip over, pick her up, drop her off at her hotel, then go to your party.”

“It’s not that simple.” He didn’t want to see Melanie again. Well, that was a lie. Every cell in his body wanted to go to that airport, pick her up, take her to the nearest hotel, and spend the night discovering how she compared to his fantasies of her. But that wasn’t going to happen. “I won’t have enough time.”

As his cock jerked in the crotch of his suit, he closed his eyes.
Do not do this while on the phone with Sarah.
He needed something disgusting to distract himself. He pictured the mushroom of hair that h
e’d
witnessed springing out the ass crack of the electrician who had fixed a faulty wire in his office the week before. When that proved to be less than effective, he asked himself if the man’s wife was just as hairy and contemplated the likelihood that they might have produced fur-ball children.

Thankfully, his blood returned to his brain and he opened his eyes again.

“Charlie, this is really important to me. I can’t tell you why Melanie is in New York, but I can say it wasn’t easy for her to decide to go there. I should’ve gone with her. She needs somebody, but she’s too proud to ask for help. Imagine if it was me. Would you be comfortable with me running around New York by myself? Or would you want someone to make sure I was okay?”

He wished the reason he was tempted to agree to meet Melanie was as altruistic as Sarah’s reasons for wanting him to.

“Did she bring her son?” he asked, knowing how dickish he sounded.

“No, I’m watching Jace. This is the first time she’s been away from him, and I know she’s taking it hard. She could use a friend right now. Please, go pick her up. Just show her that someone there cares about her. That’s all. Nothing major—just a few quick check-ins. Please.”

“Fine. I’ll meet her. I’ll need her cell number and flight info.”

Sarah gave it to him and thanked him profusely. He hung up with a quick good-bye.

On the way out of his office, Charles told June to have his tuxedo taken to a room at the hotel where the Astor event was being held that night. With any luck, he could pick Melanie up, drop her off, and not be late to his event.

He knew all the reasons why even considering meeting her was a bad idea.

None of them mattered in that moment.

Melanie. In New York. Alone.

Charles smiled for the first time that day.

Melanie looked down at the rows of buildings and snarls of traffic as her plane circled the airport and felt none of the excitement she would have had she been there for any other reason. As an interior design major, sh
e’d
often dreamed of visiting New York. Sh
e’d
even made scrapbooks of upscale furniture stores she wanted to visit for inspiration.

Dreams I put aside when I had Jace.

She opened her backpack, took out the brown paper bag of cookies her son had sent with her, and wiped away a tear. She used to think she was a brave person, but when life had thrown her first real challenge her way, sh
e’d
run from it. Before Sarah turned up, Tony Carlton’s ranch had been a place where strangers were not welcome and a person could hide from the world.

The tires of the plane squealed as they met the tar of the runway. The cookies flew up, almost leaving the bag. Melanie held them protectively to her stomach.

No turning back now.

Melanie started to second-guess her decision not to call his parents from Texas and merely ask for his number. But sh
e’d
wanted to look into their eyes and know that finding Todd was the right thing to do.

What the hell am I going to say to them? “Hi, I’m looking for your son. He never mentioned me? Yeah, that’s because I was one of the many he slept with in college. He probably doesn’t even remember my name.”

I’ll just say I’m an old friend.

The plane rolled to a stop at the gate and the seat belt light went dark and dinged, announcing they could disembark. Melanie placed the bag of cookies on her seat and put her backpack next to it. She waited for the people around her to collect their bags, then pulled hers down from the overhead compartment. Ther
e’d
been no need to bring much with her since she wasn’t planning anything beyond meeting Todd’s parents and, if all went well, connecting with him. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and followed the other passengers down the aisle and off the plane.

Her stomach growled in protest as she walked, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything that day. Her chest tightened and her breathing became shallow. It wasn’t until a rush of passengers passed her on either side that she realized sh
e’d
stopped. The people around her blurred as panic seized her.

She forced herself to start walking again. Jace deserved to know his father, and to have a mother who didn’t let fear control her.

I can do this.

She blindly followed the crowd to what she hoped would be an exit, and sighed in relief to see the signs for ground transportation. When she neared the baggage claim area, she heard a male voice call out her name.

“Melanie!”

At first she glanced around in confusion, wondering if the voice was calling her or another Melanie. But then her eyes flew to the man sh
e’d
chastised herself for hoping sh
e’d
see again. “Charles. What are you doing here?”

He stopped in front of her and, for just a split second, Melanie thought he might pull her into his arms. They stared into each other’s eyes for so long it became awkward. Melanie looked away first.

He took the luggage from her hand with such authority she released it instinctively. “Giving you a ride to your hotel.”

Quick panic set in. She shook her head and made a grab for her bag. “That’s not necessary.”

He took her by the elbow with his free hand, guiding her toward the exit. “I have a car waiting.”

His touch, however impersonal he may have meant it to be, set her skin afire. She hadn’t dated anyone since sh
e’d
found out she was pregnant with Jace six years ago. Sh
e’d
told herself she didn’t need a man. She didn’t need anyone. But being around Charles had made her realize how lonely sh
e’d
become and she didn’t know what to do with those feelings.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said huskily.
You shouldn’t do this. Just like I shouldn’t be so happy to see you.
She glanced up at him and quickly looked away. It was still there. That undeniable, embarrassingly strong pull she felt whenever she saw him.

“Sarah asked me to.”

His words were a slap of reality.
Of course that’s why he’s here. Did I think h
e’d
met me because he couldn’t stay away? A man like him can have any woman he wants. He’s not pining for a woman like me. Get a grip.

As they passed the baggage claim area, Charles asked, “Do you have everything or did you check a bag?”

A bag? The cookies.
Melanie came to a sudden halt and realized she didn’t have them in her hands. She frantically searched her backpack.
I left them on the plane. Oh my God. I’m not in New York fifteen minutes and I’ve already lost something I can’t replace.

What if it’s a sign that I could lose Jace here, too?

I can’t do this.

She turned on her heel to head back the way sh
e’d
come, but was blocked by a wall of suit that stepped into her way. “What’s the matter?” Charles asked.

Everything.
Shaking her head as she waved a frantic hand in the air, she blurted, “I left a bag of cookies on the plane.”

He looked away and then back at her as if he wasn’t sure h
e’d
heard her correctly. “You’re upset over a snack?”

“Jace made them for me,” she said sadly.
How could I begin to explain to him why they matter?

Without letting go of her arm, Charles placed the luggage beside his leg, took out his cell phone, and made a call. A moment later he nodded and returned the phone to his pocket. “The plane has already been cleaned. Anything they found went in the trash.”

It’s just cookies. I’ll buy some that look just like them for when I video chat with Jace. He’ll never know. This doesn’t change anything. Hold it together.
Melanie took a deep calming breath and said, “Of course.” She pulled her arm free and squared her shoulders. “Thank you for checking for me.”

“If there was anything that you need with the cookies, we can have them search for it.”

“No,” Melanie said, still trying to shake her panic off, “some mistakes can’t be undone. You just have to face that you made them and go on. No matter what happens. You have to deal with the consequences.”

In a move that took Melanie completely by surprise, Charles pulled her into his arms and simply hugged her. She had denied herself the luxury of physical contact with a man for so long that at first she stood rigid, unresponsive in his arms. With her face pressed against his shirt, she breathed in the scent of him and almost shuddered from the pleasure of it. In his strong arms, she felt protected from the past, safe from whatever the future held. She gave herself to the moment and wrapped both arms around his waist. Right or wrong, in that moment he was offering her comfort and she didn’t have the strength to refuse it.

A slow growing embarrassment began to spread through Melanie.
Poor Charles, sent to the airport to pick up a woman he doesn’t really know, only to have her become a basket case.

Melanie pulled herself out of his arms. She kept her eyes glued to the lapel of his jacket and the white shirt beneath it that sh
e’d
wrinkled. When she reached to smooth it, she felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest and pulled quickly away.

Without breaking eye contact, he picked up her luggage again and began guiding her toward the exit. Just outside the door, a driver in a black suit met them. Charles handed off her bag to him. The man offered to take her backpack, too, but Melanie shook her head.