Last Resort: Marriage

by Pamela Stone

  “I hate to see you hurting like this.” He slowly stood and patted her shoulder.

  Charlotte couldn’t meet his eyes. She shook her head and stared out the window until she heard the door close.

  She sniffed and blotted her nose with a tissue. With the best education money could buy and all her experience, was she still not smart enough to succeed in her field? Or her life?

  She wiped her eyes. She’d worked her ass off to make this resort into a well-run, profitable business. No one, not Perry, or Edward, or her own latent insecurities were going to keep her from making sure Perry Thurman didn’t screw her over a second time. Maybe it was too late to save her marriage, but Perry Thurman’s career with Harrington’s was about to take a nosedive.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Monte Carlo for the fifth time this week only to get the same response. “Henri Broussard is on holiday.” The man was avoiding her calls, but other than fly to France, she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She’d even tried to ask for him in French, but her accent wasn’t that good.

  French? French! She grabbed her cell phone and headed for the restaurant. “Pierre, I need to see you a minute.”

  She used her cell and dialed the Monte Carlo number again and had Pierre ask for Monsieur Broussard. Within thirty seconds, he had the guy on the phone.

  Charlotte took the receiver. “Henri, this is Charlotte Harrington.”

  AARON WALKED INTO THE GECKO and found Rosa sitting at the bar. She patted the stool next to her. “You doing okay?”

  “Just peachy,” he said, hoping she’d move on to some mundane subject and not torture him with talk about the resort or his marriage.

  Maybe he should move his boat to Cozumel or Belize.

  “I’m looking for another job. I’m not working for that weasel, Thurman,” Rosa said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “With your wife moving back to Boston, Thurman’s the new manager.”

  “The old man’s sick. He needs Charlie at Harrington’s head office,” Aaron said.

  “I heard she’s flying home to Boston tomorrow, then taking some time off. She looks beat. Rumor is the resort’s going on the market. So who knows if I’ll even have a job.” Rosa swirled her wine and watched Raul put clean glasses on the shelf. “Think that old ogre would fire his own granddaughter?”

  Tomorrow? Aaron slammed his glass down. “Maybe, but not before he hears what I have to say.”

  He barged into Charlie’s office and found old man Harrington going through her desk. “Where’s Charlie?”

  “Packing. The Keys haven’t exactly been a pleasant experience for my granddaughter.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  Harrington glared at him. “Look, Mr. Brody, she doesn’t belong with you. Your marriage was a farce. It’s finished. Charlotte is coming home and Perry’s taking over here.”

  Aaron braced his hands on the desk and leaned into Harrington’s face. “Charlie has worked her ass off the last five years to turn this place into the most elite resort on Marathon. Your reward for that kind of commitment is to replace her with that egotistical jackass who only wants to marry her so he can steal the company you spent your life building? Thurman doesn’t have a tenth of your granddaughter’s skill. He hasn’t lifted a bloody finger to do anything except spy on us and cause chaos.”

  “He was put here to keep an eye on you and on the resort. I knew you were up to no good the minute Charlotte announced that ridiculous engagement.”

  “You’re blind, Harrington. Charlie’s not only the classiest woman I’ve ever met, she’s the smartest person you could find to run this resort, or the whole damn Harrington empire for that matter.” As he said the words, the reality of what he was giving up began to sink in. Maybe he was the biggest fool of all for letting Charlie go.

  “I knew this marriage was a scam the first minute I laid eyes on you. Be a gentleman and walk away.”

  Aaron fought the urge to wrap his fingers around the old man’s neck and forced his voice to stay low. “My marriage may have started out as a farce, but it’s the best thing that ever happened in my whole screwed up life.” He took a white envelope out of his pocket and held it up. “This is for Charlie. It should make us square on the hundred grand.”

  Harrington shrugged. “Keep the money. It’s worth it to me to have you out of her life. Charlotte is going back to Boston with me.”

  “Charlotte makes her own decisions,” Charlie said from the doorway.

  Aaron turned and watched her approach, her eyes never wavering as they held him captive.

  “And you know what, Edward?” she continued, without breaking eye contact with Aaron. “This is your resort and if you think it’s in your best interest to have Perry run it, you deserve him. If you want to sell it, that’s fine, too. But I’m not coming back to Boston with you. There are other jobs.”

  Aaron returned her stare. She hadn’t looked away the whole time she was calmly telling old man Harrington where he could stick his business.

  “Did you mean what you said, Aaron? Was marrying me the best thing you ever did?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He recognized her need for reassurance. He ran one finger down her nose. “You’re an amazing woman, Charlie Brody.”

  She beamed at Aaron, then turned back to her grandfather. “I’m going to stay in Marathon and prove to my husband how much I love him. I’m not giving up on this marriage.”

  “You love this low-class delinquent?”

  Admiration showed in her smile. “There’s nothing low-class about my husband. Aaron did all he could to save his mother and survive. I seriously doubt your son would’ve stolen to put food in your mouth if you were dying. We could both learn a few things about loyalty from Aaron. His friends would fight to the ends of the earth for him.” She raised one eyebrow. “So would I.”

  Perry came through the open door in time to hear her last remarks. “You can’t be serious about spending the rest of your life with a drug dealer.”

  Before Aaron could respond, Charlie jumped to his defense. “My husband doesn’t have anything to do with drugs.”

  “I have proo—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. “If you had proof, you’d have run straight to the police.”

  Aaron turned to Charlie. “I think he’s referring to the videotape the police have of him planting cocaine on my boat.”

  He had the pleasure of a few seconds of speechlessness before Perry found his voice. “Why would I need to plant drugs on a known drug runner’s boat?”

  “Don’t know. Should be interesting to see how you explain it in court.”

  “Maybe you’d like to explain this, while you’re at it.” Charlie handed Perry a stack of papers. “By my calculations, we’re about eighteen thousand short.”

  “What?” Perry asked, not looking at the paper.

  “Since you took over the financials the numbers look a little odd. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  Edward grabbed the report out of Perry’s hand and put his glasses on. “These don’t add up.” He focused on Perry. “Why? You don’t need the money.”

  Charlotte wasn’t done. “It wasn’t about Perry wanting the money for himself, Grandfather. It was about Perry making it appear the resort was losing money under my management. And he was sending the money to Monte Carlo to pay off Henri Broussard to keep quiet about his little indiscretion with one of our top client’s wives long enough to marry me and take control of Harrington’s.”

  Both Edward and Perry were giving Charlie their undivided attention. Aaron couldn’t tell who looked the most stunned.

  Edward’s jaw turned to steel. “It was all an act. Sitting by my bedside in Monte Carlo and pouring out your dreams for Harrington’s and lamenting about how you worshiped my granddaughter. It was bullshit. All to serve your own selfish purpose. I trusted you.”

  “Her accusations are ridiculous. She’s just trying to cover for her own incompetence,” Perry insiste
d.

  Charlie’s beautiful brow furrowed. “Since you mentioned it, there is one more thing that doesn’t add up. See, I kept trying to figure out why you would suddenly want to marry a woman you’d described as, quote, ‘about as sexy as a telephone pole.’ I mean it’s not like back in college when you only wanted your foot in the door at Harrington’s. You’re already in. A girl has to wonder, you know. But according to Henri…” She paused.

  Aaron glanced at Thurman. The guy squirmed as if he might wet his pants.

  “There was this dignitary staying at the Monte Carlo resort.” She cocked her head. “The rumor goes, Perry made a show of stopping by the man’s table where he was entertaining another gentleman over lunch. It gets fuzzy about here, but the next thing I hear—”

  “None of this is true.” Thurman tugged at his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “You can’t prove anything.”

  “Oh, but I can.” Charlie continued. “The story goes that the dignitary walked into his suite some half hour later, and his wife wasn’t alone.” Charlie focused on Thurman. “When hotel security ushered you out, your pants were still down around your ankles. That’s on the security tape.” She frowned. “Then after you learned of Edward’s heart attack, you bribed Henri with the promise of a very lucrative bonus if he kept quiet long enough for you to take over Harrington’s.”

  Thurman turned purple.

  Edward raised both eyebrows and paled.

  Charlotte’s expression was as sweet as candy. “You were afraid that if you weren’t part of the family when Edward found out about your little indiscretion, you’d be unemployed. By the way, Edward, I’d have the Monte Carlo books audited.” Charlie handed Harrington a folder. “This is a log for the legal department. It’s all there.”

  “Impressive.” Aaron leaned over and kissed Charlie’s cheek, then handed her the envelope. “We’re even.”

  She opened the envelope and stared at the hundred thousand dollar check, before slowly ripping it in half. “That’s the smartest investment I’ve ever made.”

  As much as he wanted to grab hold and hang on for eternity, he knew better. “You don’t know what you’re saying. My life might sound romantic, but I can’t picture you living hand to mouth and sleeping on a boat.”

  Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love sleeping with you on that boat. But, Aaron, I have money of my own. Although I’m not as rich as Edward, we aren’t destitute. Your business is doing well. I can find another job. We’ll be fine.” She offered her mouth up to his. “I love you.”

  He cupped her gorgeous face in his hands. Afraid to close his eyes, for fear she might disappear, he searched the depths of her coffee-brown eyes. “I love you, too, Charlie Brody.”

  “But, you can’t stay married to this nobody,” Perry sputtered.

  Harrington turned to Charlie. “Charlotte, you are all I have. I need you in Boston. Think very hard about what you’re doing here.”

  She placed her hand in Aaron’s. “It’s all I’ve thought about for days.” She turned to Edward. “If you’re really interested in my help, we can discuss it. I have some workable ideas.”

  She and Aaron headed toward the door just as Officer Perez entered.

  Aaron took a tiny tape recorder out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Thanks for your help. I owe you.”

  Charlotte’s heart raced as she squeezed Aaron’s hand. As they made the journey across the resort to the wharf, she couldn’t stop smiling.

  She glanced at the Free Wind and squealed as Aaron scooped her up into his arms. “What’s this?”

  “Man’s supposed to carry his bride over the threshold.” He raised both eyebrows in a gesture that insinuated he had no intention of putting her down until they reached the little berth below deck.

  “Looks like a gangplank to me,” she corrected.

  “Minor detail, sweetheart.”

  She buried her face in the crook of his neck and giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I love being in your arms. I had no idea I could feel this free, this happy.”

  “You just told your grandfather to take the resort and stick it where the sun don’t shine. We may starve in each other’s arms.”

  “We won’t starve.” She nibbled his ear and ran her tongue around the inside curve.

  Aaron Brody loved her. He honest to God loved her.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3611-4

  LAST RESORT: MARRIAGE

  Copyright © 2009 by Pamela Stone.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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