Forced to Love_Blackmailing the Billionaire Series Page 3

  “No, it’s fine,” I mumble.

  He extends his hand and I shyly take it, letting him help me up. My heart races at the feel of his fingers against mine. I have to stop reacting like that to every touch. I’ve always seen him as a typical rich guy, living off his family's money, who was used to getting whatever he wanted. I've seen some of the women who hung off his arm, and I hated myself for being envious of them.

  All I can think about is getting out of there. I unlock the car and climb inside while he leans against the doorframe. I smile at him shyly. I can’t believe he knew my name. There must be thousands of people here, working for him. Why did I stand out?

  “Thanks for your help,” I say, forcing myself to look him in the eye. He shrugs.

  “Anytime. Let me know if I can do anything, or if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

  “Top floor.” I grin. “Though I’ve avoided being sent to your office.” It would be like being sent to the principal’s office. I’m happy sitting at my desk, doing my job and not standing out. At least, that’s what I thought I’d been doing.

  “Have a nice evening, Charlene,” he murmurs. He shuts the door and takes a step back as I turn on the engine. I speed out of the parking lot, glancing back at his shrinking profile in the rearview mirror.

  My hands grip the wheel tightly. Well, that had been unexpected. And kind of nice. A shiver races down my spine, and I smile for the first time in days. I feel like I needed to apologize to the guy for having the wrong idea about him. Who knew that Matt Harris was such a nice guy?

  I pull into my parking space, relieved that for once, my neighbor hasn’t parked his pickup truck there. I always worry when I have to park my car out on the street that it’s not going to be there in the morning. I know it isn’t the most luxurious car, but it gets me to work and back—at least it does when it’s running. Plus, it sure beats catching the bus.

  The people two doors down from me are fighting again. It’s a regular occurrence I’d be worried if they weren’t fighting, but as I walk past, something big crashes against the wall, making me jump. I shake off the uptick of nerves and keep walking, trying not to look at the graffiti on the walls, or the guy parked outside of his front door, opposite mine, half naked and smoking what I think is a joint.

  “Want some?” he slurs.

  I shake my head, not sure whether to acknowledge or ignore him.

  I hate being back at this place more than anything, but it was a choice of this and being able to start my new job, or keep living on Margie’s couch and not working at all. Even if they gave me a nice pay rise—which I don’t see happening anytime soon—I still wouldn’t be able to afford to move to anywhere nicer.

  When I’m finally inside the safety of my apartment, I deadlock the doors and try to relax. Gunshots ring in the distance, in between the howling of sirens. I curl up on the couch and switch on my tiny TV that I’d scavenged after someone discarded out the front of their house. I can’t wait for the day I can afford to buy things. Maybe a new top or some perfume. Then I remember the debt, and my heart sinks. I feel sick and angry all at once. This is my life. It’s not getting any better than this.

  The way things are going, I’d be lucky if they don’t get worse.

  Four

  Matt

  I stand in the parking lot, staring thoughtfully after Charlene as I watch her drive off. Something is going on there, I don’t care what she says. You don’t sit in the middle of a parking lot crying, without a good reason.

  It sure wasn’t everyday I went out of my way to help someone. As much as I hated to admit it, usually a scene like that would’ve had me backing up and crossing the other side of the road. But when I saw her sitting there, I felt sorry for her, then I realized she worked for me. Nate would get a kick out of the fact that I remembered an employee’s name. The old Nate, at least. This new pissed off model, not so much.

  The first thought that entered my head after she wiped those big blue eyes and forced a smile was that she looked desperate enough to marry me. I could curse my grandfather for making me think that. Besides, she’d have me up for harassment if I propositioned her like that, and to be honest I wouldn’t blame her. How do you even bring up something like that anyway? Hey, want to grab a coffee with me sometime, and maybe marry me? I’d love to say that was the end of considering her, but of course, it wasn’t.

  I’d been planning on leaving for the night but instead, I retreat to my office to dig up everything I can on Charlene. I know she hasn’t been with the company long. I think that was the reason I remembered her name, because I recalled her resume passing over my desk with a photo, around two weeks ago.

  I dig out her file and sit down at my desk, scouring through her background. The company does pretty detailed checks into each employee before they’re officially hired, so we pretty much know the entire life story of every person who works us. You never know when that kind of information is going to be needed, especially in this day and age.

  It doesn’t take me long to find what I need to know, and the more I look into her, the more of a candidate she becomes. Her father died a few months ago. My eyes widen when I see the date. Holy shit. Six months today. That could’ve triggered her breakdown in the parking lot. Still, it felt like more than that. That moment when I approached her and she glanced up at me, she looked terrified. And the relief that passed over her face when she realized who I was—or who I wasn’t, was incredible.

  I go back to reading about her. She has a lot of family home in South Dakota, but not much around here. That’s good. She must be lonely. I snort. That’s good? It’s like I want her to be unhappy and have no support. That poor girl has only just lost her father and I’m practically cheering because she’s alone. I’m officially an asshole. Though I’m sure a few women would argue that there is nothing new about that. I shake my head and lean back into my chair to read through the rest of the file. When I’m done, I toss it on my desk and glance at the clock.

  It’s nearly eight in the evening, which means it was well after seven when she left. What was she doing here so late? I never expect my staff to stay later than five. If there is one thing I do well as a boss, it’s ensuring my staff always have time for their family. I expect a lot from them, but I like to think that I give a lot in return.

  Frowning, I log into the security system and click into the camera aimed directly at the back entrance. I go back twenty-four hours, and sure enough, she exits the building at just after seven. I go back another twenty-four hours and find the same thing. It’s every night for the last three nights. Before that, she’s one of the first out the door right on five.

  I watch her thoughtfully on the screen, studying her body language as she practically runs from the back door to the safety of her car. Something’s not right. The way she keeps looking over her shoulder every two seconds? She’s so jumpy. And her hands shake so much she can barely hold onto her keys. The state I found her in today definitely wasn’t a coincidence. Only this girl wasn’t just having a bad day. She was having a bad life.

  The following day, I sit at my desk and watch the live security footage of the back door, waiting for her. It’s nearly seven, so I’m expecting her to show at any moment, and to be honest, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

  It’s been one of those days that felt like it was never going to end. Phone calls and meetings that I struggled to stay focused through, because all I could think about was my grandfather and his stupid will. Oh, and Charlene. She occupied a good portion of my thoughts too. Then on top of all that, having to pretend that everything is fine when I communicate with my staff is enough to push me to my breaking point.

  The day had also brought yet another altercation with Nate. This time, it had just been him. Without the rest of my family jumping on me, I thought we could sit down and have a real conversation. Apparently, I thought wrong.

  “What's this about, Matt? I had to cancel two appointments to get over here,
and I only did it because you sounded desperate.”

  “Sit down,” I say, pointing to the two chairs. He makes me nervous when he paces. He sighs but sits down. “I just thought that maybe if I could explain things from my perspective—”

  “Your perspective?” Nate interrupts. “I already know your perspective. That without the inheritance, you'll be fine, because you’ve still got all this. Take the inheritance away, your still rich. We’re not. Do you see the problem, Matt?”

  I frown and stare at him. Does he really think that I would leave them all out in the dark like that? Of course, they’d be looked after. I’d make sure of it. I decide to try again to get through to him.

  “I just don't think it's fair that you’re all pressuring me into doing this.”

  “I'm not pressuring you into doing anything,” Nate argues. “I didn't stipulate you had to do this. It has nothing to do with me. All I know is that you're standing in the way of me being up to achieve so much.” He frowns at me. “But maybe that's your intention. To keep yourself a mile ahead of me.”

  I stare at him, shocked. Does he really think that? My brother and I used to be so close until this came between us. Twelve months ago, this would have been a regular occurrence; Nate and I, caught up in my office, drinking scotch. Only back then, there would’ve been laughter and joking. We were more friends than brothers.

  Sighing, I sit back and rub my neck. I can see his point, I just wish for a moment he could see mine.

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” he says, getting to his feet. “Do what you think is right. Get married. Don’t. I don't care anymore.” He stalks out, without so much as a goodbye, leaving me sitting there to think about what he’d said.

  I just need to get this done so I can get on with my life, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I can’t help but think that maybe Charlene is my girl. Maybe if I uncover her secret, I can work it to my advantage. I help her, she helps me…everyone wins. She might just be desperate enough to agree to that.

  I turn my attention back to the screen, hoping I haven’t missed her. It’s so late that there is very little movement in the parking lot. I'm starting to doubt myself. Maybe her staying late was a coincidence, or maybe she sorted out whatever the problem was. Maybe she was flighty because she was worried about being fired. She is still on probation, after all. Just when I'm about to give up and go home, I see her. She creeps out of the door and quickly walks across the lot, glancing sideways. I watch with interest, studying her face. Something is on her mind, for sure. I just have to figure out what it is.

  Standing up, I grab my keys, shoving them into my pockets. My plan is to accidentally run into her again and hope this time she’ll be more forthcoming with information. I make my way down to the basement in the elevator, then walk out into the parking lot. In the distance, I can see she’s almost at her car. Just as she reaches it, two men come out of nowhere and corner her. Frowning, I speed up my gait, calling out to her as I approach. It’s enough for the two men to notice me. They quickly run, leaving Charlene clinging to her car.

  “Are you okay?” I say when I reach her. I bend down and help her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her waist when I see how much she’s shaking. She’s so scared. “What's going on?” I ask her. This time, she isn't getting away before she tells me the truth.

  “It's nothing,” she says, but the look in her eyes tells me she's lying.

  “I’m giving you a lift home,” I say. I hold my hand up when she begins to argue, because this isn't up for negotiation. “No arguments,” I warn.

  Realizing that it’s pointless arguing with me, she finally nods and lets me help her into her car. I get behind the wheel and start up the beat-up shit box. I frown as I kick the stick into gear, not convinced that this piece of shit is going to get us home.

  She looks embarrassed as I stop start my way out of the lot.

  “It’s fine once it gets going,” she mutters.

  I chuckle. “I sure hope so.”

  She glances at me, as if a thought has shot into her head. “How are you going to get back?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I'll call a cab or something. I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “So are you going to tell me where you live, or do I need to guess?” I ask.

  “Sorry, she mutters. “Forty-six Providence Street.” She turns and gazes out the window while I head in the direction of Providence Street. I know it is in South Boston, not that I ever had much reason to head to that part of town. When I pull into her street, I remember why.

  The area is so dodgy that I feel uncomfortable just driving through it. People walk everywhere, including directly into the line I’m driving. I roll to a stop outside her complex, concerned it’s no better than the rest. Hell, it’s worse. I want to offer her my room at the Intercontinental for as long as she needs it, but I don’t want to offend her. For all I know, she might be proud of this place. Unlikely, but still.

  Either way, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her walk over to her apartment alone. Whatever it is that’s bothering her, it must be pretty serious for her to risk getting home late in this neighborhood. As soon as it gets dark, all the creeps surface.

  I get out and wander around to her door, helping her out of the car.

  “You don't have to walk me to my door,” she mumbles.

  “And risk you getting murdered between here and there? I don’t want that on my conscience,” I say, my voice dry. I walk her over to the entrance, where three men stand, looking shifty. I’m pretty sure I’m witnessing a drug deal, so I avert my eyes and focus on the huge crack in the glass of the building.

  “I'm not leaving you until you’re safely in your apartment, hopefully complete with chains and locks,” I say. I frown at her. “Tell me you have chains and locks?” She actually manages a smile.

  “Yes, but if you’re expecting them on my door, you’ll be disappointed.” I raise my eyebrows at her as she giggles. Is she teasing me? Almost as quickly as it appeared, the spark in her eyes disappears.

  We travel up the elevator in silence, until we exit on the fifth floor and walk down the hallway. I frown at the graffiti, and dry retch at the stench of urine as it hits my senses.

  I can't leave her here, can I? This place is revolting. Unlivable. Am I paying her that little that this is all she can afford? I feel sorry for the poor girl, leaving her here while I go home to my top story penthouse.

  “Well, this is me,” she mumbles, tapping on her door. She unlocks the door and pushes it open. I glance inside. It’s sparse—not much furniture, or personal effects, but it's clean and a hell of a lot nicer than the rest of this dump. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow,” she says. She urges herself inside, pulling the door closed.

  “Night, Charlene,” I murmur. I'm waiting for my cab when the texts from Rex start rolling in. One after another, he asks me the same damn question; whether I've been thinking about what I need to do. Had Nate told him about our meeting? Probably, but there isn't much I can do about that. I get that my family is annoyed and frustrated with me, but pushing me isn't going to help the situation resolve itself any faster.

  “Hey, man. Got any smokes?” a young guy slurs. He’s so high, his eyes barely focus on me. He steps much closer to me than I’m comfortable with. I look up and see my cab pull in and shake my head.

  “Sorry, dude,” I mutter, throwing a twenty at him.

  He scrambles to the ground to pick up the cash, thanking me over and over. Frowning, I climb into the back of the cab and close the door.

  I need to get her away from this place, even if she doesn’t take me up on my offer.

  Five

  Charlene

  Matt Harris.

  I lean against the wall and close my eyes, sliding my body down to the floor. Even his name sounds perfect. A flutter passes through my chest as I think about him, catching me off guard. I knew the signs of developing a crush—even though I could count on one hand the number of guys I’ve been interested in, in the past, but
the thought of actually liking someone like Matt Harris feels a little overwhelming. I’m use to keeping people out. Not letting them in. Not that having a crush on him actually means anything. He’d never go for someone like me anyway.

  I was so embarrassed when he saw where I lived. The look in his eyes when he got out of my car made me cringe. He must've been wondering how I could live here. Why didn’t I think on my feet and give him a fake address? That would’ve made things awkward when he waited for me to go inside, but I would’ve handled it.

  I hate this place so much, but it's all I can afford right now. One day I'll have a beautiful place, in a beautiful suburb, surrounded by beautiful people. I eventually force myself to stand up and walk into the kitchen. I haven't eaten all day, but I'm not hungry so I compromise and make myself a cup of soup.

  I’m still feeling lightheaded and in a semi-state of shock from what happened earlier when I curl up on the couch. The two men who approached scared the shit out of me. They didn’t get past asking me if I was Charlene before they spotted Matt. One of them cursed, and then they ran. Either way, I doubt they were there to have a friendly chat. They wanted something from me, something I'm not able to give them.

  I hate to think that would've happened if Matt hadn’t turned up when he did. It's like he's my night and shining armor. Whenever I'm in trouble he's there, rescuing me.

  Maybe he's a superhero in disguise. Do I just shine a torch through my window up into the sky when I need him? I manage a giggle at the thought of him in black lycra, something I haven't done in a long time.

  I shiver, running my fingers down over my arm. I lean over to the coffee table and grab the folded-up blanket, throwing it over me. I can't believe how wrong I was about him. He’s so down to earth and such a gentleman, the total opposite of what I was expecting. And the way his hand felt against mine when he helped me up. I sigh, shivering, but I don’t think it’s the cold anymore.