The Billionaire's Proposal (Scandal, Inc Book 4)

by James, Avery

  “Did I do something to upset you?”

  Maggie glared at him. “That’s a joke, right? You act all gentlemanly and pretend you care about me, and I start to think maybe you’re not the guy everyone told me you’d be, and then you go ahead and essentially kidnap me. So, yeah, I’m mad.”

  “I gave you a choice,” he said.

  “I had no choice,” she replied. “It was go with you to the communist island or lose my job when I got back to reality. At least do me the courtesy of explaining why we’re here. What’s the point?”

  “I told you, this is one last chance to be myself. After this week, I’ll have to be someone else.”

  “By someone else, do you mean a responsible adult?” Maggie asked.

  She watched the look in Harry’s eyes change, like an inner light had gone away. “Yeah,” he said, “you’re probably right.”

  “You could have been yourself anywhere, so why here?”

  “I like it here. No one knows who I am. No one knows who my father is. It’s different. I wanted you to see that. I wanted to share something with you that means something to me.”

  “Why the secrecy?” Maggie asked.

  “Control, I guess,” Harry said. “I like to think I’m in control of my life, even if there are other forces at play. I guess by having a few secrets, I get to feel like my life is still mine.”

  “Do you intend for me to be one of those secrets?” Maggie asked.

  “If you were mine, I’d want everyone to know.”

  “And since I’m not yours?”

  “I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he said.

  “I thought this trip wasn’t about me. I thought it was about you and your need to be yourself one last time before you inherit the empire,” Maggie replied.

  “Who says I can’t multitask?” He held his hands up as soon as he said it. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

  Maggie turned away and looked at the other planes on the airfield. None of them were anything like Harry’s jet. They were mostly propeller planes, turboprops. Maggie saw the words Key Air on one of the tails. A few of them had Spanish writing on the side but nothing that seemed particularly important. She wondered how badly she and Harry would stick out on the island. She wondered if he had given any thought to what they were doing or if he was just going to make things up as he went along.

  When the plane finally stopped inside the hangar, the door opened, folding down to reveal a set of stairs. Harry led Maggie down to solid ground. It was hotter than it had been in Key West, but that could have been due to the fact that it was later in the day, or that the airport was farther inland than anything on the tiny island of Key West could be.

  “Welcome to Cuba,” Harry said. “I feel like there are a few things I need to say to you,” he added.

  As he spoke, a car pulled into the hangar, a baby-blue vintage convertible. A Chevy, if Maggie had correctly identified the emblem on the front. The car came to a stop before them and the driver got out.

  Harry!” the driver shouted. “I was so happy to get your call. Welcome back.” The driver had the stub of an unlit cigar in his mouth, and he wore a short-brimmed hat. His shirt was a size too big for his thin frame and it fluttered as he hugged Harry. Maggie watched Harry’s sheepish grin at his friend’s excitement. The man then turned his attention to Maggie. His olive skin emphasized his pale green eyes as he held his hand out. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. His English was excellent, though it was a bit formal. “I am Ramon Fulgencio de la Vega, and it is my pleasure to meet you.”

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile at his gusto. She was still mad at Harry, but she couldn’t hold that against his friend. “Hi, Ramon. I’m Margaret Elizabeth Walsh, but you can call me Maggie.”

  “A beautiful name. Welcome to my island. Any friend of Harry is a friend of mine.” He took their bags and put them in the trunk of the car. “I’m sure you have much to see and taste and hear,” Ramon said. He looked to Harry. In Spanish, he said, “Your friend is very beautiful, but I have to ask, did you bring it?”

  “I almost forgot,” Harry said in English as he disappeared into the plane. He emerged a moment later with what looked like a milk crate full of files. Maggie realized what they were as he handed them to Ramon. Records. “Tell your grandfather those are from my personal collection,” he said. He pulled a CD out from between the records and handed it to Ramon. “And let me know what I can bring you next time.” In Spanish, he added, “She doesn’t know how beautiful she is.” Maggie held back a smile. If Harry could mislead her about Cuba, surely she could forget to mention she understood what he was saying.

  “I have everything I need right here,” Ramon said as he took the CD. “Where are we headed?” He opened the door for Maggie to get in the backseat. “I hope you’ll have time for a tour of the city.” He patted the door and said, “My baby is the best way to see Havana.”

  “I think I’ll ride up front,” she said. She shot a glance at Harry. “That way Ramon will be able to point out the sights.”

  Before getting in the car, Maggie took a long look at the tail of the plane, memorizing the string of numbers. If Harry was going to make any flight plans, she wanted to know about them as soon as possible. That meant having someone back at the office track the plane’s itinerary. She’d have to call back to get the information through. She didn’t want Harry catching her off guard again.

  Harry shook his head and got in the backseat. Maggie got in the front. The car had no seat belts, but it did have a new stereo wired under the dash. Ramon started up the car and pressed play on the stereo. The unmistakable voice of Frank Sinatra rang through the speakers as Ramon sped out of the hangar and into the sun. A minute later, they were on a long, straight road heading into the city.

  “My grandfather plays trumpet,” Ramon said, “and when he was just getting started, he used to play at the Tropicana and the Pearl. This was just before the revolution. He played in the house band when all of the singers came to town, but his favorite was always Frank Sinatra. I grew up listening to all of his records. He’s playing at a little club tonight. You should come see him.”

  “Who? Sinatra?” Harry joked.

  Ramon’s laugh boomed. “Will you come see my grandfather play?” he asked.

  “I’d love to,” Harry said, “but it’s Maggie’s call.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Maggie said.

  “Then it’s settled. We’re staying at Bosque. Let’s show Maggie some of the city and then we’ll check in. You can meet us there tonight.”

  “Such a beautiful spot,” Ramon said. Maggie was only half listening to the conversation. She was watching the other cars around them. Some were painted in multiple vivid colors. Others had a patina on the original paint job. Some were rusted. Others were in perfect condition, but all of the cars were old. It was like driving back in time. Soon, the buildings started to get taller around them. The simple one- and two-story buildings gave way to taller colonial structures with ornate windows and balconies, buildings that looked like they were from the capitals of Europe. Here and there, a brutalist concrete building stuck out from the colonial architecture.

  As they got to the heart of the city, Ramon turned off the radio and let the sounds of the city wash over the car. There were men and women in their Sunday best, children running on the sidewalks. The staccato notes of car horns punctuated the murmur of conversation and the hint of music. Ramon pointed to different buildings and told her stories about the city’s history and his family’s history. Eventually, they left the city center and drove into a residential neighborhood. The streets were steep and narrow. The sound of traffic died off, and Maggie could hear children playing. Birds chirped in the trees. Ramon pulled the car up in front of a nondescript building with tiny windows. It was painted two different colors, both of which were so faded they were almost gray. “Here you are,” Ramon said, “Bosque. I’ll return after sunset.” He got out of the car to help with the ba
gs.

  Maggie turned and gave Harry a puzzled look. “You’ll understand in a second,” he said. “Trust me.”

  She wasn’t feeling too trusting at the moment, but she took his hand and followed him inside. To Maggie’s surprise, the inside of the building was beautiful. There was an enormous central atrium with a fountain. Sunlight flooded in through skylights stories above, and a whole forest of hanging vines and flowers made the place feel like paradise.

  The reception desk was a thick slab of polished wood in front of a tan stone wall. BOSQUE was written in neat metal letters and lit from above in a mix of modern refinement and hundreds of years of history. Like the wall, the floor was stone. Ten seconds inside the hotel made her wonder what other worlds were hiding beneath the crumbling exteriors of the city.

  A man at the front desk took one look at them and came out around the desk to greet them. “Good to see you again, sir,” he said. “Your accommodations have been prepared according to your request.”

  He handed Harry two keys, and Harry took the bags, waving the bellhop off. Maggie followed him up three flights of stairs at the far end of the hotel. The entrance to the room overlooked the atrium, and Maggie admired the serenity of the scene as Harry opened the door. There was a calm inside the hotel, something soothing. She tried to remind herself that she was still mad at Harry, and that he wasn’t going to get away without explaining himself.

  Once they were in the room, Harry tossed the bags aside and headed straight for the windows on the far wall. He pulled aside the curtains to reveal the view. Maggie could see the whole of Havana stretching to the sea. The afternoon light angled off the harbor. It didn’t sparkle so much as it lit the surface in a sheet of light so bright that Maggie wondered if the ships in the harbor cast shadows for miles.

  “So you speak Spanish?” she asked.

  “A bit.”

  “It sounded like more than a bit.”

  “Do you speak Spanish?” he asked.

  She scrunched her nose. “High school French.” She left out the part about learning Spanish in college.

  “I owe you an apology,” Harry said.

  “I agree,” Maggie said. “What are you apologizing for?”

  “I wanted to apologize to you on the plane, but I didn’t know what to say. Then, during the car ride—well, I didn’t want to do this in front of Ramon. I came to your room last night with every intention of telling you my plan, but when I saw you, I just couldn’t do it. I was afraid you wouldn’t go along with it, and I couldn’t bear the thought. And then we kissed again, and I knew there was a reason I met you when I did. Every time I’ve ever looked at this view, I’ve wanted to share it with someone. Now, I get to share it with you.”

  “That doesn’t make up for what you did.”

  “I know,” he replied. “We have one week here, and I don’t want to spend it fighting. I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, but do you think you’ll be able to forgive me at some point?”

  “It’s possible,” she said.

  “Is it possible that you’ll join me tonight to see Ramon’s grandfather play?”

  “It doesn’t seem fair to hold my annoyance with you against him.”

  “So we’ve gone from anger to annoyance in only a few hours. Just imagine what we can do with a whole week,” he said.

  “I’m sure you’ll find new ways of making me feel both,” Maggie said with a laugh, but she knew what he meant. She was already starting to have feelings for him that went far beyond the scope of their work relationship, and she knew he had feelings for her, too. It felt like ages since she had met Harry, not days. He’d already upended her life and dragged her into dangerous territory. One week. This was going to be either the best week of her life or the worst. As she stared out at the city, thinking over what she was going to do next, she caught a glimpse of Harry’s reflection. He wasn’t staring off into the distance. His full attention was on her.

  Chapter 7

  As promised, Ramon arrived at Bosque shortly after dark. The air was still warm, but the heat had broken, and there was a pleasant breeze as Maggie got into the car. Harry had been mostly quiet since his apology, and he lifted his brow in surprise when she sat next to him in the back of the car. She hadn’t forgiven him yet, but his contrition had gone a long way. It would help if she knew what she wanted their relationship to be, but she didn’t. She just knew she didn’t like being misled. If Harry wanted her along for the trip, he needed to be honest with her.

  The city was transformed in the darkness. The faded paint and crumbling facades of the buildings faded away, and the light from windows and alleyways shone through, giving the impression that something glowing and vibrant lay behind every wall and around every corner. It was a mystery, full of possibilities.

  Ramon sped through the streets of Havana, honking his horn and talking about American music. Maggie’s attention drifted to Harry. He was staring off into the distance, and she wondered how the city looked through his eyes. Was it a dark and winding maze to be explored? Or was it someplace to hide?

  She wondered how she looked through his eyes. Was she a convenient addition to his trip? Was she one last conquest before he returned to the real world and took the wife and the job that had been arranged for him? He said he wanted her to be happy, but nothing would make her happier than a little bit of clarity as to why the hell they were in Cuba headed to a club to hear their driver’s grandfather play trumpet.

  When the car finally pulled up in front of a small club, which Ramon proclaimed to be the best-kept secret in all of Cuba, Maggie’s head was swirling with questions. She wasn’t mad anymore. She wasn’t sure what she felt. After all, wasn’t confusion an emotion?

  The club had a crumbling marquee. Its large windows had been painted over years ago. Like everything in Cuba, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, but Maggie could hear the faint traces of music coming from inside, and there was a group of people milling around the door. A cloud of cigar smoke hung thick and sweet in the air. To Maggie’s surprise, Ramon started the car back up and drove them around back.

  “VIP entrance,” he said with a grin as he parked the car. “You’re our guests of honor tonight.”

  Unlike Bosque, the inside of the club was as run-down as its exterior. It was dim, and the sound of the crowd echoed off of the bare walls. Ramon showed Maggie and Harry to a table at the side of the small stage, right at the edge of a dance floor. It was bare wood, with a tea light in a red glass holder at the center. The chairs had black metal frames and red vinyl seats. They were almost identical to the ones at the function hall where Maggie’s parents had birthday parties and family events. Her chair was even slightly wobbly like the ones she remembered.

  A man played guitar and sang on stage as people found their way to their seats. A few of them made sure to swing by the table and shake Harry’s hand. They were all eager to thank him and tell him what a good man he was. Maggie wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but Harry asked them not to mention it.

  When she asked him what they were saying, he said, “I bought a round for everyone here. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to make friends fast. Now, let’s figure out what drinks we want before everyone else cleans out the bar. In fact, I’ll see to that.” Harry got up and slapped Ramon on the back as he headed across the room.

  Maggie didn’t quite believe him. Maybe he had bought a round, but the people were talking about something else. She studied the look on Harry’s face. As far as liars went, he was a novice. He changed the subject too quickly. He didn’t quite look comfortable. There was something he didn’t want her to know. But why would he hide helping people? “Why is he so popular?” she asked Ramon.

  “He helps his friends, and everyone’s a friend of Harry. He’s always helping people,” Ramon said. “I asked him if you were his woman, and he said that was up to you. You help people too. I can tell.” He smiled as he spoke. Maggie couldn’t help but blush.

 
She wondered if she should explain that the people she helped paid small fortunes for her company’s services, but her train of thought was interrupted by applause. The singer on stage had ended his set, and a small band was setting up. The band members were all ages, but a few were older than the rest. One sat behind a set of congas. The other held a worn acoustic guitar. “Your grandfather?” Maggie asked, pointing to the one who held a trumpet.

  “Mi abuelo, yes,” he said. “The three of them have been playing together for fifty years. The other band members are the sons and daughters and even grandchildren of their friends.” A younger woman sat at an upright piano. A man plucked at a bass, and there was another trumpet player. “The one at the piano is my cousin,” he said. She had the same pale green eyes as Ramon and his grandfather. “So what brings you to Havana?” he asked.

  “Harry made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she said. She decided to leave out all of the details about being his handler and marrying him off. As the band started to play, Maggie couldn’t help but think how different this scene was from the one at the hotel where she’d met Harry. When he returned with drinks, he looked excited and alive.

  “You two make a beautiful couple,” Ramon said. “I think I see a few friends across the room. I will go say hello. Tell me when you are ready to leave. I will drive you home.”

  “Has Ramon been spreading rumors about me again?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he said you might actually be a good guy,” Maggie replied.

  Harry held a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t let the secret out. I’m doing this flirting/fighting thing with this girl, and if she finds out I’m not a bad boy, she’s going to lose all interest.”