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

by Ivy Layne

  Nothing big. A clock I'd kept in the sitting room. A small painting on a tabletop easel that had been in the guest room. But the bracelet mattered. I could see moving the clock and forgetting what drawer I'd stashed it in. Not my grandmother's bracelet.

  "Maybe you took it off and put it in your desk," he said. "We'll look for it. We'll find it. I'm sure you didn't lose it. You're too organized for that."

  A tear trickled down my cheek and I brushed it away, annoyed with myself. I was overreacting. Vance was probably right. I wouldn't have lost the bracelet. It would turn up. He kissed the top of my head. I looked across his chest to meet Rosie's eyes, the exact shade of blue as Vance's.

  She met my gaze with a solemn expression, her dark wisps of hair mostly covered by a pink cap that matched her rosebud mouth. I couldn't help but smile at her. Her feet kicked against Vance's chest, and I caught one in my hand, stroking my fingers over her soft, tiny toes.

  "Are you having second thoughts?" Vance murmured into my hair.

  I nodded against his chest. "You gonna run out on me?" I shook my head. I knew I was making a mistake, knew I had no business getting involved with Vance, but I wasn't going to run anymore. "You promise?" he asked. I nodded again.

  "I'm just . . . I don’t . . .” I didn't know what to say, didn't have the words to explain in a way that wouldn't sound mean and accusing and bitchy.

  "You're freaked out and you don't trust me," Vance said in a patient, resigned tone.

  "Pretty much, yeah," I murmured.

  "Not much I can do about that, Sugar, except prove you wrong."

  I shrugged and kissed Rosalie's toes, unwilling to meet his eyes or contribute further to the conversation. He'd summed it up. He was either going to prove me right or prove me wrong. Time would tell.

  "Do you have anything pressing for the afternoon? We already slept the morning away."

  I straightened and stepped out of his arms, more comfortable now that we were on familiar ground. "No. Everything is caught up. Why?"

  "Why don't you take the afternoon off? Go see if you can get Charlie to play hooky, take her out to lunch. You've been stuck with Rosie and me for weeks. You need some time on your own."

  "But what about Rosie? She’s still sick," I objected.

  "You have your phone if anything changes, but she doesn't have a fever, just a stuffy nose. That jogging stroller I ordered came in yesterday. We’re going to put it together, maybe get some fresh air."

  "You're sure?" I asked. He was right. I hadn't had any time to myself since Rosie had shown up in our lives. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I just needed some girl time, some time away from Vance and his brain-clouding sexual magnetism to get my head on straight.

  "Okay, if you're sure. I'll call Charlie."

  "Go have some fun. We'll be here when you get home."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MAGNOLIA

  * * *

  Charlotte Winters never played hooky from work. She worked late every night. She worked on weekends. I'd heard through the Winters grapevine—they were terrible gossips—that even Aiden, who had a reputation as a workaholic, worked less than she did.

  The only time I'd known her to cut out on her job was when Brayden dumped me, so I didn't expect her to take me up on my offer of lunch, especially when I made it clear it would be a long lunch.

  I hadn't driven my car in a while. It seemed like Vance was always driving, and he was right—I hadn't gone anywhere on my own in weeks. I pulled up in front of the Winters Inc. building in Buckhead feeling giddy with freedom and oddly nervous, as if I'd left my purse at home.

  But Rosalie wasn't a purse, and she was safe with her father. It was just odd to be so suddenly unencumbered. Charlotte appeared on the sidewalk shortly after I pulled up and slid into the car.

  "You look like hell," I said.

  Charlie let out a sigh. "I know. Can we not talk about it?"

  "I don't know. That depends. Is it work?"

  "If I say it is, will you drop it?"

  "Maybe," I said.

  "I don't want to talk about me," she said.

  "You never want to talk about you." She didn't. Charlotte could be nosy as hell when it came to the people she cared about, but she hated talking about herself.

  Ignoring me, she said, "I want to talk about you and Vance."

  I turned bright red. I could feel it in my cheeks, the prickly heat of a fierce blush.

  "I knew it," she shouted, practically bouncing in her seat. My eyes widened. I don't think I'd ever seen Charlotte this animated.

  "You knew what?" I asked, trying to play dumb.

  "You slept with him, didn't you? I know you did. Your face is bright red."

  "Where do you want to go to lunch?" I asked, trying to derail the conversation.

  "That new burger place in the Highlands," she shot back, refusing to be diverted.

  I knew the place she was talking about. The food was amazing, and it was warm enough that we could sit outside. There was also an excellent pastry and ice cream shop across the street.

  "Spill. I want to know everything. Well, almost everything. He is my cousin. You can leave out the really graphic details."

  "Charlie," I protested, torn. I needed to talk to someone about Vance, and I trusted Charlotte, but he was her family. Wouldn't she automatically be on his side? Making a decision, I said, "Fine, I'll talk to you about Vance if you talk to me about whatever's going on at work."

  Charlie narrowed her eyes at me and let out a light growl. One thing I'd learned about Charlie Winters—she could be stubborn.

  "Fine," she ground out. "But there's some stuff going on I can't tell you. Client confidentiality stuff."

  "I don't care about clients, Charlotte. I care about you. And every time I've seen you in the last few months, you look exhausted and unhappy. I know it's work because that's all you do, and you need to talk about it with someone."

  "I said I’d talk about it. Geez, back off."

  "Cranky," I commented under my breath.

  "I'll talk. After you."

  I had a feeling that was the best deal I was going to get. This time of day, the drive from Buckhead to the Highlands didn't take long. We got lucky with a parking spot on a side street not far from the restaurant.

  While I loved living in my family home in Buckhead, I shared Charlotte's enthusiasm for the Highlands. Between the funky shops, excellent restaurants and cafés, and the combination of Victorian and Craftsman architecture, it always reminded me of a small town dropped in the middle of Atlanta.

  It didn't surprise me that I liked the Highlands, but Charlotte's interest in the area always struck me as a little odd. Charlotte was buttoned up tight. With her perfect hair and her formal business suit, she looked like big business and old money. The Highlands neighborhood wasn't low rent by any means. Houses here were pretty expensive, and our burger and fries lunch would be both local and artisanal—i.e. also not cheap.

  From where I was standing, I could see two coffee shops, one of which doubled as an art gallery, a casual wear boutique, the sports gear shop where Vance had bought my running clothes, and a tattoo parlor. Charlotte looked like Phipps Plaza—Tiffany, Prada, and Versace. So why did I think in her heart, she was so much more the Highlands than Buckhead?

  Ordering didn't take long since we both already knew what we wanted. I got a lemonade and grabbed a table. Charlotte sat down across from me and leaned forward, bracing herself on her elbows. "Okay, talk," she said.

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "Are you two together now? Like together, together?"

  "I don't even know what that means, Charlie," I said, taking a sip of my lemonade to stall.

  "You know what it means. You're just being difficult."

  I made a face at her and admitted, "Okay, yes. I think. At least, we’re going to try. I'm not . . . I'm not sure what I'm doing."

  Charlie took my hand in hers and squeezed. "You can talk to me, honey. I'm on your side, I
promise."

  "Vance is your cousin, and I know you guys are close." Charlie shook her head and squeezed my hand again. "We are, and he is. I want him to be happy, and I've never seen him as happy as he is with you. So yeah, I like the idea that the two of you are together. But I care about you, Maggie. You're my closest friend, the only close friend I'm not related to, and I want you to be happy, too. It would be nice if you could be happy together.”

  I sat back and thought about what to say as a waiter delivered our food. I was tired of measuring my words and second-guessing. I opened my mouth and everything spilled out.

  How I was afraid I was in love with him, how I didn't trust him, and how I was sure I was going to end up with my heart broken.

  Charlotte ate her burger and listened patiently until I ran out of words. When I was finally silent, she swallowed the last bite, washing it down with a sip of her own lemonade, her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over my shoulder, apparently thinking.

  "I want to promise you everything's going to work out, but if I did, I'd be lying," she said. "No one can promise you that. Shit happens, even when people really love each other."

  I was reminded, again, of everything the Winters family had been through. From all reports, both sets of parents had been deeply in love and it had still ended in tragedy. Even a happy ending didn't guarantee a happy ending.

  "I know," I said. "It's just that this seems so convenient. Rosie shows up, his whole life changes, and all of a sudden, he wants to be in a relationship with me? He knows I've always wanted a family. He's even given me a hard time for dating Brayden because I want that family so badly, and then as soon as he has one—when he's overwhelmed and needs me—he offers me everything he thinks I want."

  "Is it everything you want?" Charlotte asked.

  I rubbed my thumb against a spot on the distressed wooden table top and thought about her question. I shook my head. "I don't know anymore. When I looked at Brayden, that's what I saw. A husband and children. A family. But then I found out he'd been cheating on me, and I realized a husband and children didn't necessarily make a family. If I'd married him, if we’d had kids . . . he probably still would've cheated on me.

  "I don't mean that I changed my mind about wanting a family, but I guess I realized it's not as cut and dried as I always thought it would be. As I wanted it to be. And Vance has never given any sign that he has any interest in a relationship, much less a family."

  "That's the tricky part, isn't it?" Charlotte said. "The funny thing is when we were kids, little kids, he was always so good with us—the younger ones, I mean. Aiden and Gage never had any time for us, busy with their big kid stuff, but Vance—and Jacob too—they were patient. They'd play with us. I always figured Vance would get married young. I always saw him with a house full of kids."

  She took another sip of lemonade and looked away, letting out a sigh. "Then everything changed. Vance changed. Aiden told me once that he was really close to his mom when he was a kid and that after she died, he kind of transferred that to my mom, and when she died . . .” Charlotte swallowed and shook her head.

  "We don't have to talk about this, Charlie," I said.

  Charlotte shook her head again. "But I want you to understand. He changed after my mom died. We all did. Losing my parents was . . . none of us knew what to do, how to go on from that. And Vance did a total 180 from a sweet, chilled out guy who was into his art and girls and his family to this man-whore, heavy drinker we barely recognized.

  "But that guy—the guy who's nailed half the women in town when he wasn't drinking anything he could get his hands on—that guy isn't Vance. The guy he's been since he stopped drinking, that's the Vance I remember. And that guy? That guy has some serious feelings for you.

  "I can't promise you he's not going to fuck it up. You're right. He has a shitty track record with women. And he's an alcoholic, which is tough. You're coming off a breakup with a total asshole who took you for granted and cheated on you, so you're not exactly in a great mindset to start a relationship either. Plus, all of a sudden, there's a baby. Who the hell saw that coming? There are about a million reasons why the two of you should not start a relationship right now."

  "Too late for that," I interrupted.

  “True enough. But, on the other hand, I think Vance has been planning this since you broke up with Brayden. Maybe even before. And I'm not sure you would've taken the risk on him if you weren't all shaken up from the breakup and Rosie showing up out of the blue. So maybe he saw his opportunity, and he took it. I don't know, honey. I wish I could give you a guarantee. I'm just saying that Vance is a good guy, and he cares about you."

  "I know he is," I said. Even at his worst, I never doubted that Vance was a good guy. "And I know he cares about me. He's one of my best friends."

  "But you have to take care of you," Charlie said, surprising me. She went on. "In my very humble opinion, you did a crappy job of that when you were with Brayden. This time around, you have to look out for yourself. I don't think Vance has had a relationship since he was a teenager. He was dating a sweet girl his senior year when my parents died. He broke up with her right after, and he never had another girlfriend until now. I'm sure he's great in bed, but he's probably a terrible boyfriend. I mean, he wouldn't cheat on you, but—"

  "But there are a lot of ways this could go wrong that have nothing to do with him cheating," I finished for her.

  "Yeah. Still, all the warning signs aside, I don't think he's willing to fuck this up. Not with you."

  "I hope not," I said. I don't know that Charlotte's words were reassuring, except that they reminded me of two important things.

  One, I had to remember to look out for myself. And two, she was a really good friend. No matter what, Charlie would have my back. As uncertain as everything was, that meant a lot. Now it was my turn to be a good friend, even though she'd get annoyed with me for it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MAGNOLIA

  * * *

  "Thanks," I said. "Now you go. I'm going to eat my burger, and you're going to tell me what the hell is going on at work." Getting Charlotte to talk was like pulling teeth, but I was determined. I took a huge bite of my burger and pinned her with my eyes.

  She let out a gust of air and said, "Okay, I can't really say that much, but we have a client—kind of a client and kind of a business partner—and he's breaking a few laws. Intentionally and repeatedly. I'm working with Aiden on it, and we're easing out of the relationship between his company and Winters Inc., but that's not enough."

  I swallowed and asked in a hushed voice, "Are you going to turn him in?"

  "I think I have to." Charlie cut off and let out a breath. "No, I know I have to. I've got evidence. I'm almost ready, it's just . . ." Charlie's shoulders slumped, and she studied a nonexistent spot on the table. "I hate this. I hate being in this position. I hate this business, and I hate my job."

  My heart squeezed at the sound of her voice. I'd never heard Charlotte sound so small and defeated. I put down my burger and wiped my hands. "You're allowed to hate your job, Charlie," I said. "You don't have to keep doing this if you don't like it, if it's not what you want."

  She shook her head and forced a bright smile on her face. Vance said I ran away from difficult situations, but in her own way, Charlotte was worse.

  "I can't quit my job, Maggie. I can't. Aiden needs me. I'm the only other Winters at the company right now. Vance has his art and his investing, Annalise is off with her camera, photographing the world, and Holden and Tate are busy with WGC and their club. Gage is off the map doing something he can’t talk about with the military, and who knows if he'll ever come home. He used to love the business, and then he just bailed. Aiden has everything on his shoulders. I can't abandon him."

  "What does Aiden say?" I asked.

  All pretense dropped away, and Charlotte sat up straight. When she spoke, her voice was deadly serious. "I'm not talking about this with Aiden. No one is talking about this with Aiden, d
o you understand? Not you, not Vance, no one. Okay?"

  "I swear," I said, holding my hand over my heart. "I swear I won’t say anything to anyone." I thought she should talk to her brother, but it was her life and her decision.

  "Anyway, we have another situation, and I need to ask for a favor,” she said, picking up her lemonade and taking a last sip, clearly finished talking about her job and the family company. I wasn't quite ready to drop the subject, but I didn’t want to get in a fight with Charlie over it.

  "What's up?" I asked, curious.

  "Do you remember my Aunt Amelia?" Charlie asked.

  "Of course I remember Aunt Amelia," I said. "I haven't seen her since my grandmother died, though. I should have visited. I just . . . it's been hard seeing her friends, and I didn't. I'm sorry. How is she? Is she okay?"

  Charlotte's Aunt Amelia had been a friend of my grandmother's. Amelia was quirky and had a biting sense of humor. She used to make my refined grandmother laugh out loud and blush at the same time.

  "She's okay," Charlotte said. "But she's getting to the point where she can't really live on her own anymore. Aiden is the best about spending time with her, and he asked her if she wanted to go live in some kind of home situation or move into Winters House with him, and they'd get a live-in nurse to help her out."

  "Aiden offered to take her in?" I asked, kind of surprised.

  "Of course. She's family. And they've always gotten along well. Plus, it's not like he doesn't have the room. He only offered the home because he didn't want her to be lonely, rattling around in that huge house with just him and a nurse."

  Her words put me on alert. "What do you mean just him and a nurse?" I asked. "You live there, don't you? Did you move and you didn't tell anyone?"

  "No, I still live there. We'll talk about that in a minute, but first, Aiden asked me to do the interviews for the nurse. He said he doesn't have the patience, the time, or the temperament. He's right. He'd probably hire some termagant with a clipboard. And you know Amelia. She's sweet and kind of flighty. She needs someone patient, with a sense of humor. Anyway, I told him I'd do the interviews, but will you help me? You know Amelia and you're good with people. I know you're busy right now with Vance's show and Rosie, but—"