by Marie Carnay
“Oh my god, Miranda! Have you seen the tabloids?”
“No!” Miranda flopped on the couch. “I still can’t believe it. I mean, why would anyone be interested in us?”
Dawn’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Um…maybe because you’re in a crazy ménage with two billionaires? He-llo.”
“Is that what it is?”
“Isn’t it?”
Miranda looked up at the ceiling. She’d been fighting with herself since the auction. Trying to decide which man she wanted to date. Which one had her heart. But she’d never been able to choose. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. The way you talk about them? The way they make you feel? Miranda, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“That you’re in love with them both.”
Miranda’s mouth fell open, but she couldn’t say a word. Was she…in love with both men? She thought about James and his quiet strength. Winston and his hidden insecurities. She couldn’t imagine not having them both in her life. She wanted to wake up to Winston’s cocky grin and James’s strong arms wrapped around her every day. It wasn’t just about the sex—it was about them as men. Both of them. She blushed and glanced back at her best friend. “You know? I think you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. The only question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Oh, god. I don’t know.” Miranda grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest. “Go crawl in a hole and die?”
Dawn sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What?”
“Well…about that hole…you might want to dig it in Aruba.”
On no. “Why?”
“Because Page Six has picked it up. A full page blow-up of all three of you.”
“No!”
“Read it and weep.” Dawn turned her computer screen and Miranda’s stomach flipped over. A still from their TV interview with the headline, Insider Reveals Scandalous WaterStone Affair, was splashed all over the page. She pulled herself off the couch and trudged over.
Shit. The article was full of rampant lies—claiming everything from crazy drug-filled parties in hotels all over Manhattan, to cashing out entire stock portfolios to fund orgies in the Hamptons. It even alleged they’d hired escorts to crash company parties, with Miranda running the show.
“That’s all BS, right?”
“Of course it is!”
“Well, someone is sure out to get the three of you.”
A chill raised gooseflesh on Miranda’s arms. “It appears so.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
“Not a clue. James is convinced it’s someone inside the company.”
“But you’re not so sure?”
Miranda thought for a minute. “I don’t know. It just—it seems personal. Would a business colleague spread dirty rumors like this?”
Dawn shrugged. “You’re always complaining about people stealing your yogurt at work. If people are willing to risk getting fired for an eighty cent container of yogurt, how far would they go for a chance at billions?”
Miranda’s heart sank. “This is going to get worse, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
Damn. She just hoped it ended without the three of them ripped apart. She glanced up at her best friend and sighed. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“Of course. Stay as long as you need.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE ALARM BUZZED and James rolled over. Fuck. He’d barely managed to fall asleep, thanks to hours of investigations into the source of the fear mongering. After digging into their portfolio, he’d confirmed their funds were the best they’d ever been. Part of him hoped it was the business—an overlooked under performer, a bad investment strategy. Something logical to explain the redemptions. Anything. But, no. The business had nothing to do with it.
So he’d turned to the outside world and almost fell out of his chair. Winston was right. They were everywhere. Gossip blogs claiming they’d stopped showing up to work because they were too busy partying with Miranda and a bunch of hookers. Spending investor money at underground sex clubs. It was disgusting. Malicious. Then he read the comments. Christ. Hate-filled attacks by strangers who couldn’t distinguish a hedge fund from a hedge row.
And all of it started because of what? Because he’d refused to give up on Miranda? Who said two men couldn’t fall for the same woman?
He scrubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. Damn if that wasn’t exactly what had happened. Both he and Winston had fallen. Hard. And James couldn’t imagine life without her. Pushing other people’s money around. Building his portfolio and adding zeroes to his bank account. Going home alone. How could he do it if he couldn’t wrap his arms around her and steal her breath with a kiss?
Piss. If it’d been just him and Winston and gossip over the business, he’d let it go. He’d never given a damn about what other people thought. But now that Miranda was tangled up in it all…Whoever was responsible could burn in hell. His phone buzzed on the bedside table and he grabbed it.
“Waters here.”
“It’s Niles, sir. I’ve found your source.”
James sat up in bed. “Tell me.”
“It’s Jackson Tunstall.”
James blinked. Jackson was a head analyst. He’d talked to him the night before at the happy hour. He’d met Miranda. “He’s one of my best quants. I hired him straight out of a wire house. It can’t be him.”
“It’s him, sir. He’s been using a personal email account with encryption.” Niles chuckled. “Just not good enough encryption.”
James shook his head. “What the hell is he doing that for?”
“It appears that he’s looking to poach your clients.”
“What?” James jumped out of bed and pulled on lounge pants. “He’s not good enough to run his own fund.”
“He thinks he is. Looks like he’s been wooing quite a few of your top clients. The three who’ve redeemed and more.”
James busted out of his bedroom and stalked into his home office. “I need proof.”
“Sending it to you now, Mr. Waters.”
“Thank you. So he’s been behind it all?” James turned on his computer and opened his email.
“Everything related to the redemptions, yes.”
“What about the tabloids?”
“That I can’t find proof of on his machine, sir.”
James leaned back in the chair. Fuck. “So there’s someone else.”
“It appears so. From what I’ve been able to uncover, it’s not an employee. It’s someone outside.”
Damn it. The email came in and James opened it. He scrolled through the documents and ground his teeth together. The little piece of shit. Jackson had been planning and scheming for weeks. Way before they’d even met Miranda. But he hadn’t gained any traction until the tabloids picked up the story. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“I’m still investigating. If I find the source of the gossip, you’ll be my first call.”
“Thank you, Niles. Good work.” James ended the call and stared at his computer screen. He couldn’t believe Jackson would turn on them. He’d brought him in, mentored him, made him a millionaire. And he wanted to steal his business out from under him.
James dialed Winston and his partner picked up on the first ring. “Tell me you’ve found the source.”
“Jackson Tunstall.”
Winston whistled. “What the hell for?”
“Seems he wants to poach our clients and start his own firm.”
“No fucking way. He an amateur at best.”
“Doesn’t lack for balls, though.” James made few clicks and hit send. “I’ve sent you the proof from Niles. There’s no doubt.”
“Unbelievable. I can see him working the business angle, but the tabloids? That seems crass, even for him.”
James frowned. “We don’t have confirmation he’s the
source for the bad press.”
Silence.
“Winston?”
“There’s someone else.”
“That’s my assumption.”
“Shit.” Winston’s voice was laced with tension. “Is he working with someone? Or are they even related?”
“There’s one way to find out.” With a final glance at the screen, James pushed back from his desk and stood up. “I’ll meet you at the office in two hours. It’s Saturday. He should be there.”
Winston snorted. “Especially if he’s working to ruin us.”
“By the time we’re through, he’ll wish the thought never crossed his mind.”
James threw a stack of papers on Jackson’s desk. “I have proof you’ve been violating the terms of your employment agreement, engaging in deceptive business practices, committing a whole host of business torts, and breaking insider trading laws. You’re looking at a minimum of ten years in federal prison and lawsuits that will ruin you and your reputation. You’ll never work on Wall Street again.”
Jackson picked up the papers with shaky fingers and James snorted. He’d been verbally abusing the fucker for the last hour. Threatening him, breaking him down, owning him. And with written proof of his crimes thrown in his face, James knew his employee would confess. Anyone would.
“So you’ve contacted the police?”
“No. Not yet.”
Jackson frowned. “Why not?”
“Because as much as I hate this, I’m here to make a deal. If I wanted you arrested, you’d already be behind bars.” James leaned forward in the chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “I want your accomplice.”
Jackson paled. “I don’t have an accomplice.”
Winston laughed and pulled himself off the wall. “Come now, Mr. Tunstall. Don’t embarrass yourself. We know you’re working with the individual spreading lies in the media. Just give us the name.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
James pulled out his phone. “Are you sure? Because one phone call and the feds will be all over your ass.” He hit dial and put it on speaker.
“Agent Decker, FBI. Hello?”
Jackson launched himself across the table and James ended the call. “Tell me or I call him back and you spend the best years of your life taking it up the ass in federal prison. An overcrowded one.”
With a groan, he sat back down and his bravado disappeared. Shoulders slumped, head hung, eyes closed. They had him. “She’s never going to forgive me for this.”
James cocked his head. “She?”
“Spit it out, Jackson.” Winston stepped forward and leaned on the desk. “Who is it? Who’s the source?”
He glanced up and confessed. “It’s Dominique. Dominique Templeton.”
James fell back in the chair. “No way. She wouldn’t do this.”
Jackson shrugged. “Never underestimate a woman scorned.”
“How do you even know her?”
“I met her at that charity auction. She came on pretty strong. I—I thought she was into me. We talked about you, Mr. Waters. She fucking hates you, man.”
James stood up and walked to the back of the office. He couldn’t believe it. Dominique. He knew it ended badly—he could still see her face as he dumped her. But wanting to ruin him? Why?
Winston stepped past him and sat in the guest chair, picking up where James left off. “You have proof?”
“Yeah. Texts, emails. That sort of thing. The tabloids were all her idea.”
“But you’re the one focused on the redemptions?”
“I was until she got involved. I—I think she’s working her father.”
Fucking hell. Her father. The rage and anger that he’d shoved down and bottled up with every redemption threatened to engulf him. James couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He had to get to Dominique and stop her before she convinced her father to redeem. Their biggest investor. With the largest influence. Shit. If he redeemed, they were sunk. Without his assets, their largest fund would fail and other clients would fall like dominoes. WaterStone would be over.
He turned to Winston. “I have to go. Can you wrap up here?”
“Of course.”
James strode out of the office and to the garage. He needed to confront her. Tell her it was over. Convince her not to destroy their business. He slid into the driver seat of his coupe and revved the engine. Thank god she lived in the city.
Ten minutes later and he’d pulled up to the building. He tossed the keys to the valet and hustled inside. Stay calm. Detached. Don’t let her know she’s getting to you. An elevator ride later and he was standing outside her door. Wham-wham.
The door swung open and he fought the urge to deck her. “Hello, Dominique.”
“James!” An oversized grin popped on her face and she pulled the door open wider. “What a surprise. Please, come in.”
He nodded and stepped past her into the swank apartment. Gold and silver and crystal and silk. It all screamed Daddy’s money and he remembered why they’d broken up. Why he could barely stand to be in the same room with her.
“Can I get you a drink?”
No, you can go to hell. “I’d love one.”
“Still a martini? Two olives?”
“Yes.”
As she made the cocktail, he walked through the living room to the windows. Central Park opened up before him. Picnickers dotting the grass like ants. Bright green lollipop trees all over. He frowned and shook his head. Dominique already had more money than sense. Why that wasn’t enough, he had no idea.
“Isn’t that just a lovely view?” She slid up next to him and held out his drink. “It’s a shame you don’t have a place in the city.”
“I like it that way.”
Dominique rolled her eyes. “You always say that. I used to think it was an excuse to stay here. But now…Well. Cheers.” She clinked his glass and gave him a smile.
“Cheers.” James gulped, swallowing the liquor and forcing his disgust down with it.
“So have you finally come to your senses?”
“I’m sorry?”
She bit her lip and ran her hand along the edge of the tank top, showcasing her fake cleavage. “We’re good together, James. I know you remember.”
James stepped back and she slinked forward, boobs shoved out, lips pouty and over-glossed.
“Why else would you come here? I knew at some point you’d realize you made a mistake.” She reached out and stroked his chest, but James pushed her hand away.
“I’m not here to fuck you, Dominique. I’m with someone.”
She scoffed. “That chubby little nobody? Hmph! What do you see in her?”
“Everything I never saw in you.”
“You mean an ass the size of Manhattan?”
“I mean a soul.”
Her eyes bugged out and she stepped back. “You bastard!”
“If I’m a bastard, then you’re a bitch.” James set his drink on the side table and stalked toward her. “Tell me, Dominique. How long have you been talking to the tabloids?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took another step behind her and he closed the gap, refusing to give her room to breathe.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The vicious lies you’ve been spreading about me and Winston and Miranda.”
She shook her head in defiance, but her voice quivered. “You mean all those stories in the papers? James, please. You know I don’t talk to the tabloids.”
“I have proof. Jackson confessed.”
Her mouth fell open and she stumbled until her ass hit the back of the couch. “I—I don’t know anyone named Jackson.”
“Don’t be this stupid, Dominique. You know I wouldn’t come here without evidence.”
She sagged against the cream leather and looked at the floor. “You weren’t supposed to bid on her. You were supposed to see me and want me back.”
James stared. “That’s what this is about? M
e taking you back?”
She looked up and her eyes shimmered. “Of course it is. I love you.”
“No, you love the idea of me.”
“That’s not true. James, we’re perfect for each other.” She reached out and grabbed his jacket by the lapels. “Don’t you remember how entire parties would stop when we walked in the room? How everyone in New York wanted a chance to meet us? We were the talk of the town.”
James shook his head and took her hands. “That’s not love, Dominique.”
“But don’t you see?” She slid her hands out of his and palmed his face. “We could own New York. Be the couple.”
“Any chance we had disappeared the minute you called the gossip rags. Spreading all those lies? Claiming we were using investor funds to support some sex-crazed, I don’t even know what. It’s crazy. Even for you.”
She frowned and bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I was angry. But if you leave her, what does it matter? It’ll all go away and people will forget in a minute.”
James inhaled and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not leaving her. I love her.”
“I love you too!”
“No. You love my bank account. It’s not the same thing.”
She stepped back and the look of hurt and hope in her eyes turned to hate. “Fuck you, James.”
“No, thanks. I’m more than satisfied in that department.”
She shrieked and raised her arm, ready to slap him across the face. But James caught her by the wrist. “Don’t even try, sweetheart.”
“You won’t be so smug when my father pulls his investments.”
James dropped her arm. “He wouldn’t. He trusts us.”
“He’ll do whatever I want him to. And after this conversation, I want him to drop you.”
“If you make that call, I’m turning Jackson over to the feds. He’ll go to prison.”
Dominique waved at the air. “Whatever. I never cared about him.”
“So you just used him?”
“Of course.” She snorted and shook her head. “You honestly think I’d go for someone who doesn’t even own a vacation home? Come on, James. I have standards.”
“So I was right. It’s all about money.”
“No. It’s all about status. Position. Don’t you see? I don’t just want money. I want it all. And we could have that.”