Book 3 Prologue
Georgia
“I ’m sorry, ma’am, but as I told you, Mr. St. James is in a meeting. If you want to schedule a meeting, I would be happy to help you with that, but seeing him today isn’t going to be possible.”
I huff a dry laugh and shake my head. The vein on the side of my neck throbs, and it’s taking all my self-control not to lose my cool on the woman staring back at me from behind the desk. It’s not her fault, but fuck , I’m not in the mood for this.
Fuck this . If she wants to be difficult, I guess I’m taking matters into my own hands. I spent three hours in the car to get here; in no world am I leaving this office without giving this rich prick a piece of my mind.
Pointing behind the reception area, I ask, “That his office?”
“Yes, but again, Mr.—”
“Yeah, I heard you, babe. No need to repeat yourself.” I flash her a sweet-as-pie smile as I round the desk, realization furrowing her perfectly manicured brows.
“Y-you can’t…” A sound somewhere between a scoff and a grunt slips out of her as I hear the chair slide across the floor. “Ma’am, you cannot just walk in there.”
“Watch me!”
Adrenaline surges through my body as I burst through the door. The man sitting behind the large mahogany desk, wearing a slate-gray three-piece suit, that probably costs more than my mortgage, looks up from the massive monitor in front of him, and meets my gaze.
“Who the hell do you think you are, asshole?”
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” the woman from up front offers to her boss, and I don’t have to look behind me to know she’s flustered. “I told her you were in a meeting, but she wouldn’t listen.”
His eyes never leave mine as he says, “That’s quite all right, Tiffany, the meeting wrapped up early. Can you close the door on your way out?”
There’s a pregnant pause before the latch clicks into place. I close the distance in three long, heavy strides, and toss the paperwork I was given this morning on his desk. “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”
Clearing his throat and sitting back in his chair, the faintest of smirks tugs on the corner of his thin-lipped mouth. “Well, hello, Georgia. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the bullshit, Alden,” I bite out, pressing my fingertips down on the desk and narrowing my gaze. “You can’t do this.”
“Sure, I can,” the smug bastard drawls, not even missing a beat. “And I am.”
Red-hot rage courses through my veins, and I stand to my full height, closing my hands into tight fists at my side. The thought of sucker punching his arrogant face crosses my mind, and even though I know it would be satisfying, I manage to control myself. I wouldn’t put it past somebody like him to call the cops on me, and I’m not trying to leave here with an assault charge.
“Listen,” I grit out, once I’m sure I won’t hurl myself over the desk and strangle him with my bare hands. “As a greedy, money-hungry narcissist with a God complex, I’m sure it must be real hard to think of anybody but yourself—especially us middle-class peasants—but I’m gonna need you to put on that little empathy hat you’ve probably never worn a day in your life and come down to our level for a minute, and at least try to see how massively fucked up what you’re doing is.”
He huffs a laugh, threading his fingers together behind his head. “If you think storming in here like a child who didn’t get her way is going to do you any favors, you’re sorely mistaken.”
This fucking asshole.
Clasping my hands in front of me, bottom lip pushed into an overly dramatic pout, I cock my head to the side and say in a mocking tone dripping with condescension, “Aww, did I hurt your fragile man ego? I must’ve missed the part where I gave a fuck. This is going to destroy my business. Do you understand that?”
Finding out my landlord sold the building I lease was not what I expected to hear while elbow deep in inventory this morning. Not only that, but she sold it to a property developer, who has plans to tear it—and nearly every building on the block—down and build a strip mall. Over my cold, dead body, am I going down without a fight. That building has been the home for my bookstore since I opened.
Alden’s jaw pops and heaves a sigh. “Sit down, Georgia.”
My face twists up. “Do I look like somebody who takes orders?”
Another harsh exhale flares his nostrils. “No, but if you insist on having this conversation, it’s not going to be with you hovering over my desk. So, please”—his eyebrows lift as he gestures toward the chair beside me—“have a seat.”
Biting down on my molars, I very much do not want to have a seat, but if doing so allows me to keep my store, then what choice do I have? I need to calm myself, because as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right… I’m not going to get anywhere by letting my anger fuel my actions. What I need to do is level with him, give him a valid reason why he shouldn’t do this. Hell, beg him, if I have to, but fuck , how humiliating. I release a frustrated huff and fight the urge to roll my eyes while dropping into the cold leather seat. Keeping my head held high, I roll my shoulders back and say, once again, “You can’t do this.”
“While I appreciate your passion, it’s too late. As of yesterday afternoon, St. James Properties owns that building.”
“I don’t care that you own the building,” I mutter. “I care that I’m about to lose my storefront. My livelihood.”
Alden sits forward, clasping his hands together on top of the desk. “I sympathize with your situation, Georgia. I really do, but?—”
“If you sympathize with my situation, lease me the building,” I blurt out. “Lease it to me, then. I’m a great tenant, just ask Ruth. She’ll tell you I’ve never missed a payment or even been late. Not even once.”
Brows wrinkled, he looks at me with disdain, yet keeps his voice even. “As I was saying, decisions have been made. The plans are already in motion. I’m sorry, Georgia. I wish I could help, but unfortunately, my hands are tied.”
“That’s utter bullshit,” I bark. Blood rushes to my ears as my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Come on, Georgia. Calm. Down. Be levelheaded about this. Snapping at him isn’t going to get you anywhere.
“It’s not bullshit, Georgia.” He grits out my name through his teeth. It pisses me off. “It’s business .”
“You know as well as I do, it’s personal too.”
Alden St. James was once married to Denise—who is now married to my father—and Alden and Denise have a son together—Fletcher, my stepbrother. And sure, Fletcher’s an adult now, in his mid-twenties, but when my dad and Denise first got together, he was a kid. Up until Fletcher graduated from high school, our families would spend Christmas together, for Christ’s sake, so for him to sit here and pretend this is just business is horseshit and, quite frankly, insulting.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Georgia.” God, it grates my nerves how often he uses my name when speaking to me. I swear, it’s an intimidation tactic all seedy, rich men use to get their way. “Our family’s personal history has nothing to do with my decision to purchase that piece of property, or any property, for that matter. I am a very successful businessman, and I didn’t get to where I am today by letting my personal relationships or frivolous matters influence my decision making, and as a businesswoman yourself, I would think you would do the same.”
My left eye twitches as I stare at the man before me, wondering where the fuck he found the audacity to speak to me like that. What a fucking egotistical jackass. As I clench my fists until I can feel my nails digging into my palm, I bite down on my molars so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them cracked. “Wanting to keep my bookstore open isn’t a frivolous matter . As I said before, it’s my livelihood.”
“And as I said before, my hands are tied.” Bringing his attention to the computer, he clicks his mouse a few times, clearly pulling something up before he adds, without even looking at me, “But the good news is, demolition for that block doesn’t begin for another several months. That’s plenty of time to find a new place to lease.”
“It is not that simple.” I choose my words carefully, wanting to keep my tone even and my voice down. No matter how good it would feel to give him a piece of my mind—or break his nose with my fist, it won’t get me anywhere. Hell, driving three hours to Charleston to talk face to face may not get me anywhere either, but at least if it doesn’t, I can leave here knowing I tried everything I could.
“Blossom Beach is an incredibly small town. It’s damn near impossible to find good commercial property to lease, and for the size I need, there isn’t any . That bookstore is my baby. It’s seen my blood, sweat, and tears, and if I lose that storefront, there won’t be another. Do you get what I’m saying? If you take that building from me, I will lose my business. I will lose everything I’ve worked my ass off for. This may be just another business decision for you, and you may be able to keep personal feelings out of it, but I do not have that same luxury. Unlike you, I don’t have a net worth in the high millions; I barely have a savings account. If you take time off from work, you’d be fine. So fine, in fact, I’d be willing to bet you wouldn’t even feel your pockets getting tighter.
“But me? If I don’t work, for even a single month, I won’t make ends meet. My bills won’t get paid. My mortgage won’t get paid.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. Hate the pressure building behind my eyes, and the tightness in my throat, but I especially hate how he’s witnessing it all, sitting there with pity in his eyes.
Rubbing his hand along his jaw, Alden sighs. “Georgia?—”
“No, please let me finish.” My voice softens, full of emotion as I hold up my hand. “Asking you to change your plans isn’t fair of me, I know that. I know it would cost you money, but at the end of the day, you would still be okay—you’d still have your cushy bank accounts, your vacation homes, your boats. If you lost out on money from this, you would be fine. But I wouldn’t. If you move forward with this plan, I will lose everything . So please, I am begging you—and that’s not something I do, ever —if there is ever a time to allow emotions to affect your decision making, it’s now. There must be some sort of an agreement we can come to, some scenario that allows me to stay where I’m at. I will do whatever it takes. Please .”
An uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest as soon as I get the words out, and it only intensifies as the seconds tick by and Alden says nothing. Elbow propped on the arm of his chair, his fingers rub along his stubbly chin while he shifts his attention to the computer screen again. I can’t read his expression, and it’s making me squirm.
Finally, clearing his throat, Alden slides his gaze over to me. “Whatever it takes?” he asks, arching a brow.
Um, what? My face twists up before I can stop myself. “Anything legal and within reason, yes,” I clarify. Eyes narrowed on him, I add, “I’m not going to sleep with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
In the span of a few seconds, I watch an array of emotions wash over Alden’s face. His dark, bushy brows furrow, a deep crease settling between them, before shooting up, wrinkling his forehead. Pressing his lips together so tightly, they blanch, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, that is, in fact, not what I was getting at,” he mumbles, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. His whole face is a bright shade of red, and the vein in his forehead pops out as he looks everywhere but at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man look even remotely flustered or uncomfortable, and if I weren’t so on edge and stressed out, I’d probably find it amusing.
“Hey, as a woman in our society, you never know,” I offer with a shrug.
Alden finally meets my gaze across the desk, his discomfort rolling off him in waves. “No, Georgia, I have never, nor will I ever, exchange property for sexual favors.”
“Okay, in that case, I’m listening.”
“My son,” is all he offers.
“What about him?”
“Next month, Fletcher will be moving to Blossom Beach to live with his mother for the foreseeable future.”
“He is? That’s news to me. Since when?” I ask, brows pinched. Then shaking my head, I add, “Never mind. I’m gonna need you to quit saying everything so vaguely. What does Fletcher moving in with my dad and Denise have to do with me?”
There’s a brief pause, and then, “I’d like you to keep an eye on him.”
“Keep an eye on him?” I scoff. “He’s a grown-ass adult, and I’m not a babysitter.”
“I’m aware, Georgia. Thank you.” Alden huffs out a small chuckle. “I’m not asking you to babysit him. More like…” He gestures in front of him with his hands, like he’s trying to find the right words. “Keep him in line, make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
“Why me?” I ask. “Why not ask his mother?”
A smirk tugs up on the corner of his mouth. “You want to keep your bookstore, don’t you?”
Prick. “Yes,” I grit out. “But what makes you think, even for a second, he’d listen to anything I had to say?” Fletcher is a spoiled fucking brat, and always has been. Although, it’s not all that surprising, considering the man sitting before me is the man who raised him.
“Since Fletcher was born, the plan has been for him to become a co-owner of St. James Properties when he turns twenty-five,” Alden states, twisting a pen between his thumb and index finger. “That’s next year, and he’s not ready. My son lacks the discipline and maturity for such a large responsibility, and I had hoped as he got older, things would change, but he’s proven time and time again, he’s not ready.”
I snort. “Well, whose fault is that, Mr. I Gave My Teenager A Black Card?”
He purses his lips, but says nothing to that. “Fletcher needs to finish his MBA; he’s starting his final year next month, and he needs to learn some responsibility and discipline.” Tipping his head toward me, he adds, “That’s where you come in. Keep an eye on him, make sure he does what he needs to do, and you keep your bookstore. I’ll even sign the deed over to you once Fletcher graduates.”
My heart thumps violently as I process what he’s saying, what he’s offering. Not only would I get to keep my business where it’s at—and keep it open—but in a year, I would own the building. I’d never have to worry about this happening again, because it would be mine.
But still, one question sits at the forefront of my mind. “Why me?” I ask again. “If he doesn’t listen to you, what makes you think he’d listen to me, of all people?”
“Well, off the top of my head, I can think of a couple reasons,” he murmurs, holding up a finger. “For one, you have your MBA. You know what it takes to get it done, and I think Fletcher could really use somebody, other than me, who’s been where he’s at. But secondly, your strong, take-no-shit-from-anybody, not-afraid-to-say-what’s-on-your-mind personality is exactly what Fletcher needs. He needs somebody who’ll call him on his shit, and while his mother loves him and, of course, wants what’s best for him, she’s always struggled with being firm with him.”
“So, let me get this straight,” I say. “If I make sure Fletcher graduates next year, and somehow teach him discipline, the building will be mine, legally?”
He nods once. “Correct.”
My hands clammy and pulse racing, I ponder his words for a moment. Do I really want to agree to be a man-child’s glorified babysitter for the next year? That sounds god awful. But if I agree to it, I’d get to keep my store—the single most important thing in my life. I cannot lose it.
Sliding my gaze over to him, I ask, “What if I can’t do it? What if he won’t listen?”
“You can, and you will,” he replies matter-of-factly. “If you want to keep your bookstore, you’ll find a way.” Holding out his hand, Alden arches a brow, and asks, “Do we have a deal, Georgia?”
I hold his gaze, knowing I don’t have a choice. Knowing this rich prick has me right where he wants me, and I have no one to blame but myself. With my jaw clenched, I exhale a harsh breath and slide my hand against his. “We have a deal.”