Very Irresistible Playboy: Billionaire Bachelors: Book 1

by Lila Monroe

“Thanks, but I’m fine. It’s the rest of the employees I’m worried about.”

  Cal winces. “Yeah, that can’t be fun. The business press is already buzzing about Carlisle sales and lay-offs.”

  “Vultures.”

  “But who can blame them for the wild speculation?” Cal points out. “After all, this is the biggest story in the industry right now.”

  “And they don’t even know the half of it.”

  I think of Hallie again, and the lead weight returns to my gut. I still can’t believe she sold me out like that.

  And I still don’t understand why.

  I didn’t see it coming, that’s for sure. There I was, making future plans. Actually imagining my life with her in it. The travel, the adventure. The hot, smoking sex. And a connection, too, something realer than I’d ever felt before. It was like she was the first person to know me, really know me.

  It just turned out I didn’t know her at all.

  * * *

  I shower and change, and then head over to my lawyer’s office. They’ve been at war with the rest of my cousins’ legal teams since this whole treasure hunt finished. I know I should just give it up and move on; hell, it’s a philosophy I’ve spent most of my life following. No strings, no complications, just a damn good time. Easy.

  But it turns out leaving was only easy because I never cared about anything I lost.

  Great timing, Max. I picked the perfect moment to understand my family legacy—the responsibility it took to lead the company and keep the tradition of excellence alive. And I chose an even better moment to want it.

  Right when Hallie plucked it out of my grasp for good.

  Her face slips into my thoughts again, and damn, it hurts. Her innocent act was so good, I might have bought it if Artie hadn’t given the game away.

  Did she really believe that snake would let her get off scot-free? That I’d never find out? Or was the plan just to make a quick escape and leave me hanging, never knowing why?

  I was so stupid, letting her get under my skin. From the start, it was a simple arrangement. Fake the emotions, take the money. Hell, I’m the one who proposed it that way! I didn’t realize the spell she’d cast over me, drawing me in with her smart mouth, and determined spirit, that tempting gleam in her eyes.

  And as for her body . . .

  I shake my head. Yeah, nothing good can come of reliving those nights together. At least, not without another cold shower. And right now, I need my head in the game if there’s any last hope of stopping Artie’s takeover—and the end of Carlisle Publishing.

  “Max,” Anthony greets me when I get off the elevator. He’s the senior partner who handles most of my affairs. “How’s my favorite publishing dynasty scion?”

  “Soon to be former,” I point out. “Unless you’ve found some miracle Hail Mary play?”

  “Why don’t we take a seat?” he says.

  That would be a no, then.

  I follow him to his office. “Unfortunately, there’s no law against deciding ownership by treasure hunt,” he says. “Your grandfather’s shares are his to do with as he wishes. In fact, by doing this while he was still alive, he left even fewer avenues to contest. If he were dead, we could argue incapacity, or undue influence by your cousins. But, alive, he’s clearly making the decision for himself.

  “As to the matter of how fairly the victory was obtained . . .” Anthony goes on. “I’ve investigated that side of the situation thoroughly. I don’t think we can make a case based on the actions of an independent party acting of her own accord.”

  That being the independent party of Hallie. I let out my breath. “So, it’s gone, then. They really won.”

  Anthony gives me a sympathetic smile. “That’s about the size of it. I could come up with some trumped up accusations to maybe delay the passing of the torch for months, maybe even a few years. But it’s my responsibility to tell you up front you’ve got no hope in hell of them doing anything more than delaying.”

  “Shit.” I sink back. “So, they’ll sell it off, and the new owners will strip the company for parts.”

  “If they get the requisite votes from the board, yes.”

  That’s it then. Game over. Only, it isn’t a game anymore.

  “Thanks all the same,” I say, getting to my feet.

  “One more thing.” Anthony retrieves an envelope. “This came for you.”

  I tear it open. When I see what’s inside, I freeze.

  It’s Hallie’s contract. And the check.

  I take it out, staring at it. Fifty thousand dollars. And she sent it back? “This came from her?” I demand.

  “It came by way of The Agency. Apparently, she refused payment. That should help defray a few of your costs,” Anthony says brightly. “And on that note, perhaps we can set up a time to discuss your investments—”

  “Later,” I say shortly. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I walk out, still holding the check tightly. Why the hell would she reject the payment? She was only in this for the money the whole time.

  Maybe Artie’s payoff was so big, she didn’t need my trifling contribution. Figured she’d rub it in my face—or show me charity, since clearly I’m missing out on the big fortune.

  But that doesn’t make sense. Hallie might have sold me out, but she was never vindictive about it. If she’d wanted to lord it over me, she could have done so right there on the observation deck instead of pretending she had no clue what was going on.

  That’s not the kind of person I am. I wouldn’t do that to anyone. I wouldn’t do that to you.

  Guilt gnaws at me again. Either she’s an Oscar-worthy actress, or . . .

  Or, there’s something else going on.

  I look at the rejected check again. Something just isn’t right about this. And it’s going to eat away at me until I know the truth.

  I hail a cab and climb in. “Take me to the Carlisle building.”

  * * *

  I haven’t been back since the day of the hunt, but I brace myself and head for the top floors. Executive level. I figure Artie won’t have wasted any time upgrading his office to Franklin’s palatial corner suite, and sure enough, he’s just seeing out a bunch of older men and women I recognize from the board. “I’m sure we’ll come to an agreement that everyone is happy with,” he’s saying.

  “I need some more time to think about this,” one of the board members says, sounding uncertain.

  Artie smiles briskly. “It really will work in all of our favor, if you just consider—”

  His sees me, and his lips curl into his habitual smirk. “Max. What a surprise.”

  “I need to talk to you.” I manage to sound civil.

  “Anything for a dear cousin,” Artie says with a saccharine tone. He waves off the board members and motions me into the office.

  “Like what I’ve done with the place?” Artie crows.

  It looks like an English hunting lodge threw up in here. Fake deer trophies on the wall, tartan and wood everywhere, and there’s even one of those goddamned German shepherd statues Cordelia loves sitting in the corner.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. All the money in the world still can’t buy this jackass taste.

  “Meeting with the board?” I ask instead. “Don’t tell me you haven’t drummed up enough votes for a sale yet. You’ve been saying for years they’ll jump if they have the chance.”

  Artie scowls. “Already taken care of,” he says. “I have them in the palm of my hand. We meet to vote next week, and then this company will be someone else’s problem. And we’ll all be a hell of a lot richer. Well, except you, of course.” He smirks.

  “If you say so.”

  Artie goes to shuffle papers on his desk, clearly trying to look important. “What do you want, Max? Here to grovel and beg for a piece of the action?”

  “Actually, I was just wondering about something,” I say, running my finger idly along the edge of the window frame. The less this seems to matter to me, the more likely Artie
will tell me the truth. “What did it take to buy off Hallie, anyway?”

  “Oh, is that what’s on your mind?” Artie’s voice turns into a sneer. “Thought you knew her so well, didn’t you?”

  I raise my eyes. “Yeah,” I say calmly. “I did. You really got one over on me there.”

  “It wasn’t hard at all, I can tell you that,” Artie says, leaning back against the desk looking smug. “You two were never equipped to play in the big leagues with the rest of us.”

  “Guess not,” I agree, even though I want to smack that smile off his face. “So what did you do to turn her around to your side?”

  Artie chuckles. “What the hell, it can’t hurt to tell you now. The bitch was too hung up on you to respond to reason anyway. But we didn’t need her to play along, not once I had a bug planted on her phone.”

  “What?” I stare at him in disbelief.

  “My guy hooked me up, we planted it once you beat us back to Palm Beach. Easy. It didn’t just get her calls, but anything you guys said in the room. The minute she cracked that last clue, we were on the jet for New York.” Artie grins. “Never saw that coming, did you, Mr. Adventure?”

  His words hit me like a punch to the gut. They didn’t turn Hallie? They tried and she refused?

  My hands clench again. A hot flush is rising through me that’s both anger and shame. Anger at Artie. Shame that I didn’t believe Hallie when she tried to tell me she was innocent.

  “No,” I grit out. “I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t think even you would stoop quite that low.”

  The anger floods through me, and I lunge at him. In a second, I’ve got him pinned to the wall by his lapels. “You see that deer head?” I ground out, shaking him furiously. “I’m going to mount your sorry ass right beside it!”

  “Help!” Artie shrieks. “Security!”

  Two guys come rushing in and drag me off him. My heart is pounding.

  “I’ll have you arrested for this!” Artie is flushed and quaking. “Get out of my building!”

  “With pleasure.”

  I stalk out, furious, but as the elevator heads back down to street-level, the anger shifts. I’m not mad at Artie for lying and cheating. No, I’m mad at myself for believing him.

  God, how much have I fucked up? Hallie was on my side the whole time. And I threw her loyalty back in her face. I didn’t even give her a real chance to talk it through with me. I told her I never wanted to see her again. She was fucking crying and I left her there.

  Is there anything I can do to make this right?

  24

  Hallie

  “Okay, now why don’t we get you leaning against the window frame, looking right at the camera. Yes, perfect.”

  Melissa Hudson, the photographer I’ve been assigned to assist, snaps several photos of the actress. One of Carlisle Publishing’s entertainment magazines is doing a story on Laura London. She drapes herself elegantly against the window, doing an excellent impression of the lady victim of consumption she got an Oscar nomination for portraying. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose, but the romantically frail look is working for her.

  Melissa looks equally cool in a totally different way. With her spiky hair and leather jacket, she could have walked out of a punk concert. She takes her shots with a practiced efficiency—always focused, always poised with complete confidence.

  I so want to be her when I grow up.

  When Melissa pauses to skim through the photos on her view screen, I hop up on a chair to adjust the position of one of the lights. “Oh, that’s perfect, Hallie,” she says when she glances up. “Good call.”

  I grin as I hop down. “I was thinking, maybe if she sat on the ledge with her face right by the glass—you’d get that extra glow from outside.”

  Melissa nods with a thoughtful expression. “Nice. I’m going to get a few more like this and then we’ll try that. Since it was your idea, do you want to take some of the shots? You might as well get that practice.”

  “Oh, wow, thank you!” I say, practically beaming now. I’ve only been working with Melissa for a few days, and I already feel like I’ve learned twice as much as I did assisting guys like Frederico for six months. She knows her stuff and she’s great at what she does—and she’s not at all bothered by lending a hand to someone on the way up. I really couldn’t have asked for my dream job to be any more dreamy.

  However long it might last. The rest of the staff has been buzzing about the fate of Carlisle Publishing all week, and it knots my stomach every time I think of it. Not just because of my own job, but because of what Max must be feeling.

  Does he still blame me? Is he out there somewhere, cursing my name? Or, worse, is he on a beach with some bikini model, forgetting that I even exist?

  “Let’s get some shots on the chair now,” Melissa says, bringing me back to my assignment. “Wardrobe, can you fluff the dress?”

  The actress moves into position, and a cluster of stylists help rearrange her outfit. No wonder I can never make my clothes look as good as in the magazines—they have a whole team pinning and tucking to make sure—

  My heart stops. A figure’s just appeared in the doorway.

  It can’t be . . .

  But it is. Max steps into the room, as casual and confident as ever. I haven’t seen him in three weeks, and somehow I forgot how fucking hot he is.

  What is he doing here?

  I gulp for air. One thing I’m sure of: Whatever he’s got to say, I don’t think I want to have that conversation in front of my new boss. I hurry over to meet him before he can start yelling at me again.

  “Max.” I stop short in front of him, and that ache in my chest goes up to 11. I’m not sure I even want to give him a hello. Shit, how’s my hair? I haven’t looked in a mirror in hours and I’ve been scrambling all over arranging the sets. I rake my fingers back through it.

  It shouldn’t matter. But it does. But I definitely don’t want him realizing it does.

  “Hallie,” he says. His voice is still just as panty-melting too, that low slightly rough baritone. He runs a hand over his own hair, looking as if maybe I’m not the only one feeling awkward here. My nerves settle just a little.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asks, holding my gaze with the blue-gray eyes that captivated me from the first time I met him. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  A very large part of me screams Yes! The rest of me knows better. He walked out on me—after believing I was a backstabbing duplicitous bitch. I’m not the one who needs to grovel here. And I’m sure as hell not risking my dream job to hear what might just be more accusations.

  “We’ve got another hour to go here,” I say, impressed by how steady I keep my voice. “But I might have time after.”

  “Whatever works for you,” he says. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Well, that wasn’t so hard. I jog back over to where Melissa is at work and try to refocus on the job. But it’s hard, knowing that Max is just a few feet away. But I force myself to concentrate, even when we run over schedule. I gulp, wondering if he’ll wait that long, but after handshakes and goodbyes, I come out of the room to find Max still waiting. He gets up from the bench in the hall and hesitates, like he’s not sure he’s welcome even now.

  I’m not sure he is either. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look fierce. I feel like I need a shield. I thought I’d gotten over the battering my heart took, but suddenly it feels tender all over again.

  “It looks like there’s a little courtyard out back where we could talk,” Max suggests.

  I nod and follow him out. The yard is small but picturesque, with a wrought-iron fence twined with flowering vines. Max tucks his hands in his pockets as if he’s not sure what to do with them. He looks at the lawn and then at me.

  “I don’t know where to start except to say I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry I listened to Artie instead of you. I should have known you wouldn’t do that to me, whatever the price . . . I
talked to him,” he adds ruefully. “He had a bug on your phone. That’s how they knew where we’d gone.”

  The breath I’ve been holding rushes out of me. Max knows I didn’t do anything wrong. He knows I didn’t lie!

  But something in me holds back from celebrating. Apparently, it took Artie’s confession for Max to change his mind. Not anything to do with me. What I said, everything we did together—none of that counted for anything.

  “You shouldn’t have needed Artie’s explanation,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. “Maybe we hadn’t been together that long, but I thought you knew me better than that. But instead, you took his word over mine.”

  Max hangs his head. “I know,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell you. I was so caught up in the treasure hunt, I wasn’t thinking straight. I fucked up. You don’t need to convince me of that. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  He raises his head to meet my gaze again. The regret in his eyes hits me straight in the heart. “Losing you was almost as bad as losing the company.” Max confesses. “No, actually it was worse. I can build another company if I want to. But I know I’ll never find another you.”

  Oh shit. I curl my fingers into my palms, and try to stay strong. He’s saying this now, but it’s easy to say things. How am I ever going to know he means them?

  I clear my throat. “What’s happening with Carlisle Publishing?” I ask. “Am I going to be out of a job soon?”

  Max doesn’t look any happier by the change of subject. “Artie’s already taking charge. He’s been talking with the board members, buttering everyone up. There’s a board meeting to take the vote. Then I guess the sale will be a done deal.”

  He says it with such finality that something in me bristles. “Are you sure? From what I heard, the other board members don’t even want to sell.”

  Max looks surprised. “I don’t know. Artie can be pretty persuasive. And he’s the one in charge, so—”

  “That’s the problem,” I interrupt, remembering what Ernest told me. “They don’t want to sell, but they need someone in charge who’s going to lead the way. If you’re just going to let Artie take over, they’ll follow his lead.”