ONE NIGHT STAND (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

by Bella Grant

  “You are a ridiculous man, do you know that? Idiotic leprechaun.”

  His laughter stopped for a just a second before it started up again. “All right, all right. But, Charlotte, this is really the only way to get the money for the orphanages. Do you want them shutting down in a month? Do you want someone else to take over? Look what you’ve done for these kids.”

  She glanced past him and out into the main room of the orphanage. Kids ran around, happy and playing; laughter filled every inch of the place. But it wasn’t just them that made her want to do it. Braydon could see her mind calculating. If she’d known Terrance had been alone on the streets for most of his youth, did she wonder about his best friend having to endure the same? Did she care that much about him to worry over him? Braydon wasn’t sure what to think but didn’t distract her. If she asked him flat out, he would tell her the truth—that he feared for these kids, that they would have to endure what he did.

  After a few minutes, she got to her feet. “Fine, I will do it, though I will need several days to prepare.”

  “Great,” Braydon said, clapping his hands together.

  “But,” she said, putting her hand up, “I have some conditions.”

  “Anything for you, Charlie.”

  Her eyes narrowed to stormy grey slits. “Stop calling me Charlie, for starters.” Behind her, Terrance stifled a laugh as Braydon was forced to agree. “Second, I would like another date with you, but I want to ask you questions.”

  “Is this a kinky thing?” Terrance whispered. “Do I need to leave while the two of you go over these details?”

  “No, it is not,” she assured him. “I simply want to know more about the man I will be entrusting the accounts of the orphanage to. Can you agree to these terms?”

  Braydon crossed one arm across his middle and tapped his chin with his fingers. He was going to say yes, but her impatience, her forehead furrowing a bit, was well worth it. That, and something was happening inside him. He wanted to see her again, naked in his bed, but at the same time, that was no longer a priority for him. Braydon wanted to know who this woman was, understand what made her tick, what annoyed her more than being called Charlie. The voice inside that nagged him about the sex being incredible had grown fainter as something else started to bud.

  “Agreed,” he said. “I will most likely pick you up before the board on Friday morning, and we shall have our date Thursday night so I can help you prepare. Is that good for you?”

  “That will be just fine. I guess I need to get busy,” she said and headed for the door. Her hand was on the handle when she hesitated and turned back, cringing. “Could I bother one of you for a ride home? I apparently have no money for a cab anymore.”

  Braydon bowed his head in agreement and told Terrance he’d be back to go over numbers and details. Together, they headed out, but Braydon caught the hint of the smirk on his friend’s face. They’d be having a long conversation later, he knew it.

  “So, have you ever been broke in your life?” he teased as they climbed into his Camaro and took off.

  She sighed and leaned her head against the window. “No. This is a new feeling for me. I don’t like it very much.”

  “You’ll work everything out, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. There are so many technicalities, and if I want to save what little money I have left, I’ll have to leave my mother.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Have to leave the nest sometime, you know. Branch out on your own.”

  “It’s not that,” she muttered sounding a bit angry. “It’s just… Never mind.”

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know,” he said. “I’m only asking, Charlie.”

  “Stop calling me Charlie! There was only one person allowed to call me that, and he is dead.”

  Silence descended in the car, and Braydon mentally kicked himself for pushing too far like he always did. He glanced at her; tears were forming on the edges of her eyes before she swiped them away angrily. For the first time, Braydon didn’t know what to say to get out of this situation and fell silent the entire drive to her house.

  As he pulled up in the drive, she started to thank him until she caught sight of someone standing on the front porch the same time Braydon did. “Quin. Was he supposed to be here today?” he asked, trying not to sound annoyed at his brother.

  “Probably my mother’s idea to call him. She noticed I was absent last night,” Charlotte said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, slamming the door hard behind her.

  Braydon should’ve stayed in the car. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. But he jumped out and followed her to the front porch. “Braydon,” Quin said as he glanced from him to Charlotte. “Why were you two together?”

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” Braydon snapped. Charlotte rolled her eyes as she tapped her toe impatiently. “But if the lady wishes to tell you, that’s her business. I was just seeing her safely home. Until next time, Charlotte,” he made sure to say. She nodded in thanks as he turned and walked back down the path and got in his car.

  He should have gone back to meet with Terrance, but seeing Quin casually putting his arm around her shoulders as she led him inside pissed him off, and being around anyone he liked was not a good idea. He sped away from her house and drove for an hour before he found his old pub. His car drew everyone’s attention, as he knew it would. A few men jeered at him as he stepped out, but he only pushed by them and disappeared inside the gloominess of the underground place.

  “Keagan,” a rough man’s voice, damaged from years of smoking, said, “what the hell is your arse doin’ in ‘ere? Get out ‘fore I knock your teeth in!”

  Braydon felt every single pair of eyes turn towards him as he set his hands on the bar and glanced up at Garvey and his scraggly red beard and tattooed, bald head. “I’ll have a pint if you don’t mind, or is my money no longer good enough here?” As Garvey cursed and went to get the beer, someone else stepped up beside him. “Ah, and there he is. How are you, old lad?”

  “You should not ‘ave come back.”

  “And why not, Doyle? Didn’t you miss my pretty face?”

  “Oh, I missed your face all right,” he said as he grabbed Braydon by the back of his collar and raised his fist. “I missed roughin’ it up a bit.”

  “Wait,” Braydon said as Garvey set his beer down. “A drink first for old time’s sake?”

  Doyle, three heads taller than Braydon and easily twice as wide, nodded.

  Braydon took a long drink of his Guinness, smacking his lips at the taste. “Right then,” he said, setting it back down. “I’m going to finish that when I’m done kicking your arse.”

  Doyle laughed and pulled back his fist. He let loose, and Braydon ducked under it quickly, but Doyle’s momentum carried him forward, and he nailed Garvey right in the face. Braydon laughed as he quickly grabbed his pint out of harm’s way and took another drink as Doyle whipped back around, cursing, and charged at Braydon.

  A few seconds later, the entire place was in an uproar.

  Chapter 12

  The ice clinked in her glass as Charlotte tilted it to sip the whiskey. She’d been sitting in her father’s study after finally convincing Quin to leave. He’d stopped by after Victoria told him Charlotte could use the visit. He’d asked her out for dinner that evening, but dinner was the last thing on her mind after what happened today. She’d declined as graciously as she could before going inside.

  Victoria had not returned at that point, but Charlotte had heard her come in over an hour ago. She’d yelled for Charlotte, but she hadn’t answered. Her mother knew where to find her if she really wanted to talk to her. And just as she finished her glass of whiskey, her mother came into the study.

  “I guess we need to have a conversation,” she said, sitting opposite the large desk. “This office is so dar
k. You should really do something to brighten the place up.”

  “I like the study this way. Reminds me of Father.”

  “As does his whiskey, apparently.”

  “Going to scold me about that too, are you?”

  Her mother opened her mouth to say something, then shut it, and, to Charlotte’s surprise, started to laugh. “You are the spitting image of that man sometimes, tongue sharp as a whip.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Mother? What’s going on? You don’t tell me what’s happening with our finances, you let me nearly ruin everything I’ve built over the years, and you’re acting very strange. Just please, tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte, I really am. My... medicine has stopped working,” she said quietly. “Things just… happened.”

  Her mother’s face fell, and she started to cry. Charlotte hurried around the other side of the desk and held her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”

  “This is your time to get yourself settled and taken care of. I couldn’t bear to take that away from you.”

  “But Mother, you’re sick. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You don’t have to hide it from anyone.”

  As night fell outside, Charlotte and her mother stayed close together, talking in whispers as they shared a bottle of whiskey. It was the first time in ages that Charlotte could remember being this close to her mother and not being angry with her. She was upset her mother had not come to her, but at least she had some understanding of what was going on. She could do something about it. She could help.

  There was no need for her mother to carry this weight alone. In the morning, Charlotte would call her mother’s doctor and have a meeting with him. It was time she knew everything about her mother’s mental illness.

  ***

  Liam stared at Braydon as he held an ice pack to his face. He sported two black eyes, a broken nose, and a few cuts and scrapes. He smelt of beer, either from drinking before he started the brawl or being covered in it during the chaos. The phone call Liam had received was one he hadn’t had to deal with for a very long time.

  “Will you stop looking at me like that?” Braydon muttered as he cringed and lowered the ice pack. “Makes me feel like my da is here, scolding me.”

  “Good. You are damned lucky I don’t call him.”

  “For what? I told you I didn’t start it.”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed even more. “The hell you didn’t. You knew exactly who would be in that pub. What was going through your head, lad? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Did you see the others?” Braydon cracked a grin until he split his lip again and grimaced. “I’m pretty sure Doyle won’t be looking too pretty for a few weeks yet. And Garvey, he owes me another pint.”

  Liam cursed and thanked God when the doorbell rang, giving him a distraction from the obnoxious man before him. He opened the door to Terrance. “Well, maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

  “What happened? He never came back to the orphanage,” Terrance said. Liam waved him towards the kitchen, and Terrance headed in. His friend turned and grinned at him. “What the hell did you do now?”

  Braydon glanced between Liam and Terrance. “Why does everyone assume it was my fault?”

  Both men stared at him long and hard until he got up, sulked to the couch and pressed the ice pack to his face, closing his other eye. They talked behind him, but he didn’t try to pay attention. He wasn’t going to tell them why he’d felt the sudden urge to get into a fistfight. Or that he’d used it as an excuse to speak with some old associates, to ask if anyone knew what Ronan was up to now that he was suddenly part of the picture again.

  Sadly, no one knew any reason for Ronan to be sticking his nose in anything to do with Braydon or his company. Unless, of course, it had something to do with the man who used to run the company. Braydon wished he could give him a call, but unless he found a psychic, he was out of luck. The man had died last year, passing quietly in his sleep. Braydon missed him, especially times like now when a phone call from him would get the board to agree with whatever Braydon wanted. He shifted the ice pack to his other eye and sighed at the slight relief the cold brought. Both men had fallen silent in the kitchen, and he heard the clinking of glasses followed by footsteps as someone sat down across from him and another sat at his side.

  “Take that thing off your face so we can talk to you,” Terrance ordered, shoving a glass in his hand. “And have a proper drink. It will help numb the pain.”

  “Encouraging me to drink after a drunken brawl—you must want to get me drunk again so I’ll tell you something.” Braydon shot the whiskey back, then set the glass down, waiting for another. “But what could you possibly want to know?”

  “Why you went to that particular pub? Have something to do with Ronan, or something to do with your newfound relationship with Charlotte?” Terrance asked with a raised brow. Braydon tensed but didn’t say anything. Terrance laughed. “You never could hide anything very well.”

  “I never said I was hiding anything. Now, did you bring the account information so we could get something done today?”

  Terrance opened his mouth to say something else but stood instead and grabbed the bag he’d left by the front door. They laid out all the papers and began calculating the numbers and what Charlotte’s money had provided for so long. Braydon was amazed at what she’d been able to do with little-to-no help, which made him like the woman even more.

  So you do like her then, and not just for sex, a voice said in his head. Well, isn’t that a switch?

  Braydon tried to tune it out and pay attention. A few hours later, they had virtually everything figured out. Now all he had to do was meet with Charlotte and plan the rest of the technicalities for the presentation.

  “You sure this fight of yours had nothing to do with Quin?” Terrance asked one last time as he packed up the papers. “You were fine this afternoon before you left with her.”

  “I’m not exactly in a relationship with the woman. If she wants to date Quin and marry the man, who am I to stop her?” he snapped as he shot up from the couch to get more whiskey from the kitchen. He was in the mood to drink the entire bottle and possibly not show up at the office tomorrow. No one would miss him. Except Natalie, and for some reason, he really wasn’t in the mood to see her at all anymore, in any capacity.

  “Braydon? You all right?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you just pulled open the freezer door and haven’t moved.”

  Braydon blinked and closed the freezer quickly. He moved to the liquor cabinet and rummaged around. “Was that the last of the whiskey?”

  “I believe it was, sir. And, no, I am not going out at this hour for more,” Liam said.

  “Fine, fine. That’s just great.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to Quin and tell him you want to date Charlotte?” Terrance asked with a smirk. “I’m sure your brother would understand. He’s been in love with her for the last ten years, after all. He’ll handle the heartbreak well, I’m sure.”

  Braydon turned around with a sharp green glare that only made his friend laugh. “I am not having this conversation with you. Not here, not tonight, not ever.”

  “You finally like someone, and you won’t even admit it!”

  “Not having this conversation!”

  “Suit yourself, but you know what I think?” Terrance said as he walked to the door. “If you really have feelings for the woman, don’t wait too long, and please, for the love of God, do not let her marry Quin. That man will bore her to death within a year, and that would be a shame. See you in a few days!” He waved merrily one last time and disappeared out the front door, leaving Liam to hurry over and lock it for the night.

  He turned and stared long and hard at Braydon. “Your friend is right, you know. Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Good
, then I am off to bed before you go off and do something stupid again and force me to bail you out of jail. Good night, sir,” Liam snapped. Braydon watched him walk to the other end of the penthouse and disappear down a short hall that led to his living quarters.

  Braydon stood in the kitchen, feeling his cut lip with his tongue as he tried to figure out what was going on inside his head. This was all new to him, everything that was happening. Even after all the shit he’d been through on the streets, he’d never experienced anything involving what he felt now. He’d gone to the pub because he’d felt jealousy. Jealous that Quin seemed so close to the woman he’d spent only two wonderful nights with. The one-night stand was starting to fade, though, and what remained was only watching her sleep soundly on his chest.

  He remembered wanting nothing more than for her to stay there with him forever.

  Braydon went to bed that night and dreamed about Charlotte’s face with Quin hovering close, waiting to make his move.

  Chapter 13

  Charlotte had left her mother in Milly’s care after having a quick meeting with the remaining household staff. They knew her mother was ill but not how badly until Charlotte told them. All of them had, of course, said they would do what they could to take care of Victoria and not take it to heart if she had one of her mood swings.

  If only Charlotte had been paying closer attention, this change in her life would still have happened, but maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.

  The car pulled into the parking lot, and she told the driver to go do whatever he liked. She’d call for him when he was needed. This meeting was going to take a few hours. She reached the doors and headed up to the third floor, then stood outside the doctor’s office, suddenly more nervous than she’d been in a long time. Her hand shook as she pushed open the door and told the secretary quietly that she had a meeting with Dr. Shannon.