Trusting the Billionaire (Weston Brothers Book 2)

by C. C. Snow

  “Can I come visit you over Christmas?” She spoke so quickly, her words ran together.

  My eyes widened. “But…wait…what?”

  Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have plans with Troy and his family. I know I would be intruding.”

  Susan had already invited Ethan and me for Christmas. I had been grateful for her thoughtfulness to include my roommate. The holidays had always been tougher for Ethan than for me.

  My memories of the joyous season were anything but happy. Other than a present from my father that his assistant had picked out, Christmas morning was about watching from a distance as Evelyn showered her children with affection and gifts. After dinner, Gwen would sneak into my room to hang out. It was my favorite part of the evening.

  “Gwen, that’s not it,” I said, lying through my teeth. My gut twisted with anxiety thinking about what she might let slip over a cup of eggnog. I didn’t want the Westons to pity me. “Why aren’t you spending the holidays with your family?”

  A scowl formed on her face. “I don’t want to. They’ve been really tense and irritable recently and as usual, nobody will tell me anything. Besides everyone is going to fly to visit Jemma’s in-laws in Texas. You know I hate Will and his little brother, Mitch. The creep has eight hands.”

  “Will or Mitch?” I asked with a fierce frown. Will was Jemma’s husband and if he didn’t keep his hands to himself, I’d find a way to chop them off.

  Gwen looked startled by the question and then gagged. “Ew…no! It’s the little twerp Mitch. He always sneaks behind me and touches my ass.”

  “He’s eighteen and horny. I’m sure you can dissuade him with a few choice words or a threat to knee him in the balls.”

  Her shoulders slumping, she mumbled, “You’re probably right. I’ll go.” She dropped her eyes to her keyboard, her whole demeanor despondent.

  Don’t be such a bitch, Elle. She’s always been there for you. The inner voice of my conscience needled me to do the right thing. “If you really hate the Ralstons that much, I’d love to have you visit,” I said on a sigh.

  She perked up, her blue eyes sparkling.

  “I’ll have to check with Troy’s family, but if they can’t accommodate another guest, we can always have our own little celebration in the apartment.” Although I had no doubt Susan would welcome Gwen’s addition to their celebration.

  “Really?” she asked, her hands clasped together.

  “Absolutely,” I answered and then laughed when I saw her pop out of her chair and make a loud squee.

  She sat back down, her cheeks pink, and gushed, “We’ll have so much fun. I can’t wait to see you and meet your dreamy boyfriend and your fun roommate. Oh…and I’m old enough to go barhopping now.” Like a jack-in-the-box, she sprung out of her seat again and made another high-pitched squeak.

  I laughed at her exuberance.

  Her pretty face appeared on the screen again. “Ooh…I better go Christmas shopping.”

  “Don’t go overboard. You know I don’t care about presents.”

  She giggled. “Remember those horrible gifts I used to give you when I didn’t have an allowance? Rocks and buttons. Lace ribbons that came undone from those horrible frilly dresses I used to have to wear. The broken music box that skipped every other note.”

  I smiled fondly, remembering how she used to leave her little “gifts” underneath the comforter for me to find. “I loved all of them,” I said softly.

  “Now I can afford to buy something nice,” she said. “Grandma Rosalyn left me piles of money so now I don’t have to ask Dad for anything.” Her maternal grandmother’s blatant favoritism toward the youngest grandchild was another reason for Gwen’s sisters to be jealous witches. On the few occasions I met Rosalyn, she hadn’t seemed the type to suffer fools. I hadn’t been surprised when she left the bulk of her fortune to Gwen.

  “I’d prefer a seashell you brought me from a beach than anything you could buy from the store.”

  Her eyes getting suspiciously moist, she touched the screen with her fingers. “I miss you, Elle. I can’t wait to give you a big hug.” Then she grinned. “Even though I’m still mad at you for not talking to me for two years.”

  My own eyes tearing, I smiled crookedly and touched her fingers. “I know. I’m mad at myself too.” I should never have cut off the only person I cared about from my past.

  “You should be,” she said with a bright laugh and then glanced at the corner of her screen. “I’ve got to go to a study group. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay. Later,” I said and snapped my laptop closed. Uncurling my legs, I edged off my bed and stretched my arms over my head.

  Troy had dropped me off early this morning on his way to play a round of golf with his father and brother. Susan was with Cora and Aiden and we were supposed to go out to lunch together. I looked at the clock and realized I still had an hour before I had to leave to catch the train.

  At the sound of a loud knock on my door, I frowned in puzzlement and walked out of my bedroom. Normally visitors would need to be buzzed into the building. “Oh…it must be Mrs. Clossen,” I said, picturing the lonely little lady who lived across from us, who occasionally needed help picking up groceries or doing light housework. In exchange, she would invite us over for a home-cooked meal. She was a terrible cook, but Ethan and I trooped over there and ate every bite.

  Smiling, I swung the door open and stumbled back two steps as a man barged into the apartment in a dark blur.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but when he faced me, I gasped, “Carter.”

  I almost didn’t recognize him. Unlike the perfectly groomed man I had seen a couple of months ago, Carter looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. His tie was askew and the buttons were fastened incorrectly on his overcoat. And his unshaven face looked haggard, with dark circles under his red eyes as if he had not slept for days. His normally thick hair was flat and oily. The grooves around his mouth and on his forehead were etched deeply.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? And how the hell did you find me?” I asked, tightening my grip on the doorknob. His presence in my apartment felt…wrong.

  He flashed a look of loathing at me and gritted out, “You vindictive whore.”

  Shock and then rage swept through me at his hateful words. I pointed to the doorway. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

  Face reddening, he wrenched the door out of my hand and slammed it shut. I hissed as the brass knob was yanked forcefully out of my grasp, burning my skin. Curling my hot palm behind my back, I tried to massage the pain away, unwilling to let him see any weakness.

  I could feel the menace radiating from his body and for the first time, I felt icy fear trickle into my bloodstream like drops of liquid nitrogen. Despite telling myself to stand my ground, my feet retreated without conscious decision. I was alone in the apartment with a man who looked unhinged. My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest.

  Carter stalked me, his grey eyes wild like a trapped animal’s, and I could smell the bitter tang of desperation and hatred.

  “Tell your sugar daddy to leave me the fuck alone,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, trying to sound calm. I shuffled another inch around the sofa, looking to put as many barriers between him and me as I could. Normally I would be up in his face for calling Troy my sugar daddy, but some instinct warned me to tread carefully. In all the years I had known Carter, I had never seen him like this, swearing and shaking with rage, as if he were ready to do violence. He was always cool and collected, finding any display of emotion beneath him.

  My mind cranking into overdrive, I started to think about what I could use in the apartment as a weapon to defend myself.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, bitch.” He looked me up and down with a nauseating leer. “To be able to lead him by his dick, you must have acquired some new skills since we were together. Did you finally learn how to ple
ase a man instead of lying there like a wooden plank?”

  “You’re vile and disgusting,” I spat and pointed to the door. “Get out of my apartment.”

  Ignoring my demand, he took another step toward me. “I know you told Troy Weston to go after me and the company. What lies did you tell him, Gabrielle?” he sneered.

  I held up my hands, palms facing outward. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Carter. I have never talked to Troy about SC,” I said, forming each word slowly and deliberately.

  He stopped, eyed me suspiciously and then said shortly, “I don’t believe you.”

  Sidling another inch away from him, I said, “I’m telling the truth. I don’t know what is happening to the company, but I have nothing to do with it.”

  “You lying cunt!” he yelled. Face scrunched in fury, Carter kicked over the coffee table.

  I screamed and jumped back as two of the wooden legs snapped in half. It made the piece of furniture look like it was on its knees, begging for mercy. A bead of sweat formed at the nape of my neck and snaked down my spine.

  “He has ruined me and it’s all your fault,” he ranted, almost foaming at the mouth.

  “I’m going to say this for the last time, Carter. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my mouth dry. I continued to back away from him, keeping my eyes on his shoulders. I heard that boxers always kept their eyes on their opponents’ upper body when they were fighting—that their torsos would telegraph their next move.

  Although should Carter attack me, I would be no match against him. He was taller than me by three inches and outweighed me by forty pounds. Eyes darting around, I saw a silver letter opener on the shelf of the bookcase and inched toward it, praying he wasn’t paying attention to my hands.

  “You’re telling me you know nothing about the hostile takeover?”

  My brows puckered. “We don’t talk about his business so…no. Besides, I don’t even know what the hell a hostile takeover is.”

  My insistence seemed to finally sink in because he held still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Your boyfriend has been buying up shares of SC on the sly. He’s slick, I’d give him that. I wouldn’t have suspected anything until one of my VPs noticed the slow rise of our stock prices. The trail led back to the Westons.”

  “Well, I don’t know why Weston Enterprises is trying to take over SC, but I have nothing to do with it.”

  I could tell he was starting to believe me when the veins stopped bulging in his neck. For a second, his eyes lost focus, as if he were deep in thought and I grabbed the letter opener, hiding it behind my back. Slowly, I started to move toward the door.

  A look of cunning crossed his face, sending disquiet through me. The edges of the metal object dug into my palms as I tightened my grip.

  “You’re going to help me stop him.”

  I gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

  Taking two long strides toward me, he blocked the door and folded his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed to slits and I wondered again how I ever found him attractive. Every feature was too sharp, too hard, making him look like a rabid raptor.

  “According to my calculations, Weston has control of twenty-five percent of the company. The family still owns thirty percent. We need to make sure he doesn’t buy any more shares.”

  “You’re the CEO. Can’t you do something?”

  He shot me a glare for daring to question his abilities. “It will take too long to call a stockholders’ meeting. By the time I figured out who is willing to sell their shares, Weston would have gotten control of the company. And if I bought it through the open market, the price hike would alert him. I need to get a hold of the list of people Weston is wooing. Then I can preempt him and block the sales.”

  “That’s a brilliant plan,” I said sarcastically. “But I don’t see why you’re telling me.”

  “You’re going to help me get that list.”

  I laughed and his face darkened with anger. Abruptly sobering, I scoffed, “You’re delusional.”

  “I don’t think so, Gabrielle. I think you’ll be quite keen to help me.” A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his face, making nausea rise in my stomach.

  For some reason, this more relaxed version of him was more terrifying than the enraged maniac who forced himself into my apartment. Alarm bells jangled in my head. “In your dreams, Carter. I wouldn’t throw you a lifesaver if I saw you drowning,” I said.

  His smile was cold and reptilian. “I had a lot of time to think about what you and your boyfriend, Gabrielle. In fact, I even hired a private investigator to do some digging. And you wouldn’t believe all the interesting things he found.”

  Raising my chin, I said with false bravado, “I have nothing to hide.” The idea of some creepy snoop following me around Chicago gave me the chills.

  “Oh, I think you have a lot to hide, darling,” he purred. “I found it fascinating that you didn’t start dating him until after I left Chicago. No wonder you weren’t afraid of being exposed. But the stakes are different now, aren’t they? You have the whole family believing you’re some innocent princess when you’re nothing more than a trashy slut.”

  I fought to keep my face unreadable.

  Like the rattlesnake that he was, he struck fast, grabbing my hair and yanking viciously until my neck was bent at an awkward angle. My scalp prickled with a thousand needles.

  I cried out in pain and brought my hand from behind my back, placing the tip of the letter opener at his throat. I saw shock flare in his eyes before he hooded them.

  “Let me go, Carter.” I pressed the point into his flesh, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He knew the blunted instrument would not break skin unless I used force. Bile rose to the back of my throat at the thought of having to stab another human being.

  His humorless chuckle sent a chill down my spine.

  “What do you think your boyfriend and his family would say if they found out you were fucking your sister’s fiancé behind her back, Gabrielle?”

  Chapter 19

  Too late, I realized that my flinch had given me away.

  This was my dark, shameful secret. I had had an affair with Meredith’s fiancé for a year. I couldn’t even claim the excuse of not knowing he was taken because I met him during their engagement party.

  Trash. Homewrecker. Tramp. Slut.

  I had called myself all of those names and more.

  The smug look on his face made my breakfast roil in rebellion.

  I applied pressure on the letter opener until he hissed in pain. “Let me go or I swear I will skewer you like a kebab,” I threatened, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of seeing how much turmoil he had stirred.

  Self-satisfaction disappearing, he abruptly let go of my hair and pushed me away, making me stumble a few steps. He stared at me with hard eyes. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Gabrielle. I’ll give you until Christmas Eve to get me the list. If you don’t, your boyfriend will receive irrefutable evidence of what a cheating slut you are.”

  Holding the letter opener in front of me like a dagger, I faced him defiantly. “You don’t have any evidence.”

  “Oh, but I do, darling. I have pictures of us together. I’m sure a Harvard-educated man like your boyfriend could put two-and-two together once he sees the date on the wedding announcement and the time stamp on the pictures,” he taunted. “Not to mention the pictures of you going to see your lover in West Town.”

  The only person I knew in West Town was Jan. I bared my teeth. “Nice try, Carter, but you and I both know he’s not my lover.”

  “But your boyfriend doesn’t. Who do you think he’s going to believe? A woman who has been lying about everything or damning photos? And what if those pictures were accompanied by audio testimonials from dozens of men who fucked you.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face and Carter smiled noxiously. He was Satan incarnate. “He’s not going to believe you,” I said, lift
ing my chin. An oily muck built on my skin, like sticky, black tar. Every encounter with this man made me feel unclean.

  But the bastard heard the uncertainty in my voice because his smile grew. “We can always test your theory.” Steely grey eyes glittering with malice, he took a step toward me. “But I don’t think you’re going to risk it. Women like you are always willing to do whatever it takes to keep the gravy train going.”

  How did I ever convince myself this asshole was in love with me? He knew nothing about me or about what I wanted in life.

  Carter was the only outsider who knew about my relationship to the Lawrences. That I was the bastard child of an illicit affair. That I was the half-sister of his fiancée. I never even told Ethan the last name of my family.

  I stared at the pond scum in front of me and wondered how I had not seen him for the sociopath that he was.

  And now he was threatening to take the person who meant more than anyone or anything else in the world to me: Troy.

  “You’re asking for the impossible. I don’t have access to any of his files,” I said through numb lips.

  He must have taken my remarks to mean I had given in to his blackmail scheme because his posture changed—became more relaxed, more cocksure.

  “I don’t care how you get the list.” He curled his upper lip in disgust. “Fuck it out of him. You are a whore after all.”

  My hand was moving before my brain kicked in and the sound of my palm connecting with his cheek reverberated in the room. The force of my slap made his head snap to the side. I had never hit another person in my life, but as I saw the angry, red print form on his skin, my only regret was that I had not struck him with my dominant hand.

  “Get the fuck out of my apartment,” I choked out past my rage.

  His whole face darkened and he took a step toward me.

  I slashed out with the letter opener and he reared back, his eyes filled with impotent rage. Those cold eyes promised retribution.

  “Get out!” I screamed, ready to charge him if he didn’t get out of my sight. In that moment, I believed I was capable of killing him and sending him straight to hell—where he belonged.