“If I got close to you,” Penny said, her voice just above a whisper, “it’s because I wanted to be close to you. I knew it would be a risk, and I did it anyway. This started out as…as a job.” Tears danced at the corners of her eyes. “I admit it—I wanted a better job at Preston Logistics.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I was applying for a job here, not as your nanny. But sometimes you have to take the job that’s offered.”
He didn’t know whether this admission made things better or worse. Desperate people did desperate things for money. He knew that as well as anyone.
So he couldn’t blame her. Not entirely.
“I would never try to interfere with one of your business deals,” Penny said, and the sincerity in her voice almost broke him.
But the walls around his heart were already going back up. The risk was too great. He didn’t have to put all the responsibility on her shoulders—in fact, he couldn’t, because it had been his idea to let her in at all.
He also couldn’t go back to the way things were.
“I think it would be best if we…kept your schedule to a minimum,” he said. Penny flinched. “I think it would be less confusing for Logan that way.” She nodded immediately, blinking back another wave of tears. “You've never given me a reason to doubt your skill as a caretaker for my son, so we can…continue with a reduced arrangement until I find a permanent replacement.” The new nanny wouldn’t be so involved with Drew’s life. The new nanny, he decided, would be part time. He’d enroll Logan in preschool. It would be better for all of them.
“I’m going to go, then.” She opened her mouth like she might say something else, then closed it again and went. The set of her shoulders as she left made him think she was waiting for him to call after her, but the words stuck in Drew’s throat.
She’d given him so much help during the short time they’d had together. He had a memory, vivid as anything else in his life, of her laughing as she pointed out a flaw in his presentation for Michael Bower. He had another memory of her dancing at Carver Row, eyes closed, hands in the air. It was like she’d known how much he needed that connection in that moment.
But could he ever forgive her for keeping a secret like Fox Worldwide?
He didn’t have the answer.
Even if he did, she’d leave him eventually anyway. That was how things went, when the lines were so crossed, when emotions were so tangled. It was like an electrical fire—fast moving and difficult to contain.
It had happened to Drew once before, and it had happened again. He could, however, control the damage if he didn’t chase her out of the building right now. If he let her go.
So he did what he had to do.
He let her go.
13
Drew sat at the head of the table in the meeting room, trying to ignore the hollow feeling at the center of his chest and focus on the negotiations with Michael Bower.
The seed of that horrible emptiness had been planted a week earlier, when he and Penny had broken up. Broken up—had they really? Or had they never even been dating in the first place?
The words didn’t matter, he decided for the hundredth time. They’d meant something to each other, and then she was gone.
Charlie and Archer had found him sitting at his desk that day, two hours after everyone had gone. He’d been staring into space. They demanded answers, and he’d told them everything.
“These financial statements,” Charlie, the company money man, was saying now. “I’m not sure the notations on all the debt are accurate.” Charlie sat across from Michael and his assistant, Steven. “I’d like to see the records behind those numbers so we can check the math ourselves.”
“I agree with that,” said Archer from the opposite end of the table. He spoke loudly, and Drew realized it was because he’d been zoning out again.
It was hard to concentrate on anything, with Penny gone. It was made even harder by the fact that he couldn’t trust anything that had happened. He wanted it to be simple—either all truth, or all lie. But nothing was ever that simple.
Drew hurried to replay the conversation that had just happened back in his head.
Wait. Financial statements?
“Say that again, Charlie?” He leaned back in his chair, trying his best to look interested and not worried.
“Some of Mr. Bower’s numbers aren’t matching up to my estimates,” Charlie said, shooting Drew a quick look. He focused his attention back on Michael. “Do you think you could have the data to us by early next week so we can double-check? Preston Logistics likes to vet things very thoroughly before we make a commitment. I’m sure you understand.”
Michael rubbed a hand over his chin and cast a look at his assistant. Charlie had asked Michael for the papers, but Michael didn’t answer.
Steven did.
“I’m not sure on the timeline,” he said, after a silence that had gone on a beat too long. “We’ll have to get back to you on that. What do you think, Mr. Bower? Friday afternoon, we can get on a conference call?”
“Yes.” Michael nodded, his head bobbing up and down a smidge too quickly. “Friday afternoon. We’ll set it up. We’ll connect with you then.” The two of them stood up and made their way out of the conference room, as if in a hurry to escape further scrutiny.
The brothers sat in silence after the two men had gone down the hall, out of view of the windows in the conference room.
“I can’t be the only one who saw that,” Archer said. “Did you guys see that? The way they looked at each other?”
“It wasn’t encouraging,” agreed Charlie. “You know, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but…why didn’t they come prepared?” He frowned at the windows, eyes narrowed. “Aside from the numbers, I don’t have a good feeling about this.” He cut a glance over at Drew, then back at Archer.
“You can go ahead and say it, Charlie. We’re all thinking it,” Archer said.
“All thinking what?” Drew had witnessed the same thing as the others. If he’d felt unsettled before—and chalked it up to the breakup—now he felt completely ill.
Charlie hesitated.
“That Penny was right,” Archer said, folding his hands on the table. “All signs point to her being right.”
“I—I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” he said now, his entire body suffused with shame.
“Unless you make a move, we’re stuck.” Charlie looked down at the papers in the folder in front of him. “The way I see it; you need to do two things.”
“And what are those?” Drew was tired to his bones, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He felt like he slept at night, but when he woke up in the morning, it was like he’d never put his head on the pillow. And he couldn’t ignore the dull ache behind his breastbone whenever he passed by the suite where Penny had stayed.
“First, apologize to Penny.” Charlie’s words hit him like a brick. “Second, call Jack and ask him for a second chance.”
The shame burned through another layer of his core. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Because he might say yes?” Archer gave him a skeptical look. “There’s a chance he might say yes. Even you have to admit that.”
“It would be a slim chance.” Because of what I did. Because of how I lied. Because of my own mistakes.
“Any chance is better than no chance. As it stands now, that’s our only option,” insisted Charlie. “Unless you want to start the search for other companies to acquire. Which we can, but it won’t happen this year.”
Drew grit his teeth. “I get it, okay? This is a disaster of my own making.”
“Thank you,” said Archer. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to point it out.”
“You did point it out,” Drew shot back. His spine threatened to collapse until his forehead hit the table.
“Someone’s going to buy Jack’s company,” Charlie said, his tone absolutely calm. “One of our competitors in the region, probably. Is i
t really worth taking ourselves out of the running because of some weird moral hang-up?”
“It’s not a moral hang-up.” Drew let his head fall back against the chair and put his hands to his forehead. “I’ve obviously screwed this up too deeply to recover from, so we might as well accept that and move on.”
“Bull,” answered Archer. “And you sound pathetic when you get defeatist.”
“I’m being realistic,” insisted Drew.
“Why don’t you just take the shot? Make the call. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll accept that you royally screwed us. If it does work out, I’m willing to pretend this was your own idea.”
Drew picked his head up and stared blankly at Archer. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“That’s the kind of enthusiasm I like to see at Preston Logistics.” Archer stood up from his seat and beckoned Charlie after him. “Come on, Charles. Let’s give the man the room.”
* * *
Drew did not call Jack Holloway from the conference room.
He hated making calls from the conference room. It felt like a televised fishbowl in there, so he retreated to his office and shut the door.
God, he missed Penny.
He missed the way she would have tossed her bag into one of the chairs and rolled up her sleeves. He missed the way she kept looking at a problem until she found a solution. He just missed her.
All day. Every day.
A week after she’d gone, it was still just as painful as the very first minute. More painful, even. With previous relationships, there had been a sense of relief along with the pain. There was no such thing this time, and Drew could very easily see it stretching out into forever.
An acid pain crept up his throat. Seriously? Was that heartburn? He was going to start getting heartburn now?
Drew let himself drop into his desk chair pulled open the center drawer. He kept some emergency antacids somewhere, he was sure of it. He slipped his hand into the recesses of the desk, but instead of a package of Tums, his fingers made contact with paper. A slip of thick, glossy paper.
He tugged it out, curious. The upward facing side was covered with fine print.
He flipped it over. CARVER ROW.
His concert ticket.
Penny had held Logan in her arms while Drew picked up the tickets at the box office. She’d been an incredible sport that day. Less than ten days on the job, and she’d gone with him to New York City and spent the entire day entertaining a three-year-old.
Drew laughed out loud. He’d invited her to the concert as his nanny, and she had never once complained. He could almost picture how she might have teased him about it if they’d been a little closer. You can’t invite a girl to New York City and have her sit backstage.
Even his brother had seen that. Drew, on the other hand, had been blind until those lights hit the sparkly tank top she’d been wearing.
And when she danced next to him…
He’d mistaken the thrum in his heart for the beat of the music. An easy assumption, considering that Carver Row had been deep into their set list by the time Penny made her way to the fourth row. The energy had been wild, barely contained by the room they were in, but she had channeled it into every movement of her hips.
And what had he done?
He’d let her see him.
The real him. The Drew who bought all-access tickets to Carver Row just because. The guy who flew across the country with a three-year-old in tow so he could experience music that sustained him in a way that nothing else in his life did.
Nothing else…except Penny.
He loved her.
He loved her, and it was too late.
He let the ticket stub drop to the surface of the desk.
It was far too late.
Even if he could get her back, it would never work. How could it work? He’d have to let her into every part of his life. And she’d have to let him into every part of hers. That would be impossible.
Wouldn’t it?
He squared his shoulders and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was not going to let this emotion take over another day at the office. He couldn’t afford to—not if he wanted Preston Logistics to keep moving forward under his leadership. Not if he wanted to prove to his brothers that he had resolved the instability left over by his last relationship once and for all.
Drew picked up the phone.
Her number was still saved in the first quick-dial spot.
His finger hovered above the button. One push. That’s all it would take, and then he would know whether she was taking his calls or not. He’d know whether there was even the slightest hope that he could make things work with the woman he loved.
He pushed the second button down instead.
Britta picked up her extension before it had a chance to ring. “Yes, Mr. Preston. What can I do for you?”
“Connect me with Jack Holloway’s office.”
14
“Our people just don’t want to be at home.” The interviewer, whose name Penny had already forgotten—Howard? Henry?—shrugged his shoulders, smiling widely at her as if it was a happy coincidence that everyone liked to work late hours. “The minimum around here is around sixty.”
“Sixty hours,” she found herself staying, just to confirm. “Every week.”
“That’s right.” He glanced down at the copy of her resume in front of him. “Are you comfortable with working overtime?”
Red flag. It was a huge red flag, no matter how Howard—she’d go with Howard—posed the question.
There had been a time—two weeks ago, in fact—when she wouldn’t have hesitated. Overtime was a different ballgame when she worked for Drew. Overtime had meant taking a turn tucking Logan back in when he woke up in the middle of the night. After their interlude in his office, “overtime” had sometimes included several hours in Drew Preston’s bed.
“Yes.” She covered her hesitation with a smile. “I’m comfortable working overtime.”
“That’s good to hear, because most of the time…” Howard leaned in. “…our workload is substantial enough that we need all hands on deck.”
“Understood.”
“Now, Ms. Fox, how motivated are you when it comes to meeting individual and team benchmarks?”
“Oh, extremely motivated,” she answered, but it was like the interviewer was already fading from view. Yes, she needed a job, but she’d rather move back to Toronto than work herself to death for higher corporate profits. The office itself was soulless—she’d walked through an endless row of cubicles to get to the meeting room they were sitting in—and not one person had lifted their head. Nobody made eye contact.
“I think you’ll find our benefits package extremely competitive,” Howard said, pushing a sheet of paper across the desk for her to read. It was printed in a jaunty font.
“COMPREHENSIVE HEALTH INSURANCE. GYM MEMBERSHIP. LOCAL DISCOUNTS.”
Nobody had time to use the company-provided gym membership. Not working sixty hours a week.
It was a relief, the next morning, to pull up in front of Drew’s house in her car.
No. Not exactly a relief. This was her last morning at the Preston household, and she felt like something sharp was embedded low in her belly. Even worse was the careful coordination they’d worked out to avoid each other completely. Each morning, as she closed the front door behind her, she could feel the rumble of the garage door opening. It was a subtle thing—she’d never noticed the sound when she’d lived there—but now she was so achingly attuned to it that it broke her heart every time.
Then it was three hours with Logan, Mike hovering nearby in case they “needed anything,” and a quick ride into town to drop him off at his new preschool.
Penny had to admit that school was a good fit. It took real effort to get him to stay in his seat until the car had come to a complete stop, and more often than not, she chased him to the door, a half step behind. He was fast. And he loved that place.
He’d be okay without her.
Penny padded up the stairs with a lump in her throat. Logan would be up in a half hour, give or take. She took up her post in a small den across from his room and opened the e-reader app on her phone. Normally, Penny read romances. She'd read at least one a week for…well, at least since college. The past two weeks she’d struggled to make it twenty pages.
God, why did it have to hurt this much?
She didn’t want a fake relationship. She didn’t want to pretend to be someone’s wife or girlfriend. She wanted a full and committed partnership, the kind they’d playacted, only…real.
Penny wanted it more than she wanted to get back into the logistics industry.
Her desire to start over had led her to Napa, but now that goal seemed flimsy. Insubstantial. What was the point in starting over in business, if all of it was so meaningless?
Not totally meaningless. She wasn’t there yet. But the search for a new job was missing something, and Penny knew what it was.
It was Drew. And, to different extent, Logan.
His footsteps coming across the hall put an end to her wallowing for the day. They had plans.
He ran straight across the hall, took four running steps, and launched himself into her lap. “Playground!”
“After breakfast,” she said. “Breakfast, get dressed, playground.”
He counted them back to her. “Breakfast, get dressed, playground. Socks and shoes.”
“Yes, you’ll need socks and shoes.”
“Let’s go!”
He pulled away from her, sprinting away as soon as his feet touched the ground.
“Come on, Penny!” Logan yelled from his bedroom, sliding one drawer of his dresser open, then another. “Socks and shoes!”
“Your socks are in the top drawer,” she said with a laugh as she followed him inside. Logan had already created a cyclone of clothing over the room. No doubt he was looking for his favorite red shirt. He found it in the third drawer down.
The Billionaire’s Pretend Wife: Preston Billionaires Book One Page 9