Chapter 60
CHAPTER 60
CHARLOTTE
I find him eventually, following the deep tones of his voice to the half-open door of his study. He’s sitting at his desk, leaning back. His eyebrows are drawn low. “That’s good,” he mutters. “Nora Stone agreed just the other week. We have another meeting scheduled tomorrow.”
I lean against the doorframe. He really is the king of his own world. Getting his way, giving his orders. Expecting everyone to fall in line.
He sees me and something softens in his eyes. “I’ll have to call you back later,” he says into the phone. “I’ll think of a plan. We need to get the contract ready for signing later this week.”
Then he puts the phone down and looks at me—skimming over my tank top and the leggings. There’s appreciation in his gaze. “You’ve been working out?”
I ignore the question. “The Stones have agreed to sell?”
“Yes, but only verbally. We’re nearly at the finish line.”
“After I hand in the memoir, right? You need it for the Board to approve the purchase.”
He takes a moment before nodding. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“And you’ll likely cut some things out of the first draft before then,” I say. “You don’t want too many of your intimate secrets in there.” My voice comes out too combative, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
“Right.” He gets up, a furrow between his brows. “But I can tell you anything you want to know, as long as it doesn’t make it into the book.”
“Right. Because you’re protective of your personal life.”
“I suppose, yes. And it involves more people than just me.” He tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure me out. “Charlotte. What are you thinking?”
“I know that the deadline for the first draft is in a few days. I’m almost done. I’ll just need tonight and tomorrow to finish it up,” I say.
“Okay. There’s no rush.”
“We signed a contract. So there sort of is.”
His lips turn down. “Not one I’ll enforce.”
“Mm-hmm.” I dig my teeth into my bottom lip and look past him at the bookshelves lining the walls of his home office. Maybe my book will be on one of them in a few months. He still needs a picture for the cover. The photo shoot is next week, and Aiden asked me to go with him.
“I got an interesting call earlier.” I look at a bookshelf instead of directly at him. It’s easier to face.
“You did? Is everything okay?”
“It was from a journalist. Audrey Kingsley of the New York Globe .” My gaze slides to his. “Do you know anything about the article she’s writing?”
His face doesn’t change. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, there and gone again. “I know of her, yes.”
My stomach sinks. I feel it drop, and disappointment tastes like ash in my mouth.
“How do you know her?” I ask.
“She’s married to one of the owners of Acture Capital. Our paths cross from time to time,” he says.
“Right. You’re friends.”
“I’m not sure I would go that far,” he says.
“But you’ve never spoken to her about business things.”
“What are you getting at, Charlotte?”
“She’s writing an article. About exploitative situations in reality television.” I cross my arms over my chest, and for a second, try to channel him. The commanding presence I’ve seen him put on like a cloak. “She thought of me, even though I’ve never spoken about my experience publicly.”
“Did she?” He’s standing very still. So am I. Like a sudden movement from either of us could break this stand-off.
“Yes. Even said that she would mention me regardless of whether I made a statement or not.” I shrug and work hard to keep my voice under control. “Then, she assured me—and here’s the weird part—that I wouldn’t have to worry about Titan Media suing me for breaking the NDA I signed for doing the show. You know why?”
Aiden blows out a breath. “Chaos.”
“Do you know why , Aiden?”
“I do. I made it clear to her that I won’t stand in the way of an independent investigation.”
“You made it clear to her. Or did you encourage this? You forget that I know you fairly well by now. Even if you’ve made it difficult to get close to you.”
Aiden’s jaw tenses. “You’ve gotten closer than I’ve allowed anyone else for as long as I can remember.”
“Did you encourage her to write the article?”
There’s a moment of pause. “I gave her the idea,” he says.
The punch knocks the air out of me. I knew he was manipulative, in a way that most successful people are. He plans, he’s strategic, his focus is always on winning.
But this?
“Why,” I breathe.
He takes a step closer and reaches out. I react in kind, taking a step back until I’m in the hallway outside his office. “Charlotte, it was never meant to hurt you. Quite the opposite.”
“Right. Because dragging up my past would help me how ?”
“Because I want him discredited,” Aiden says. His voice is tight with suppressed fury. “I can fire him from all our shows in a heartbeat. That decision has already been made. After this season airs, he will never be on Titan Media’s payroll again. But it’s not enough. I don’t want him to work in this industry. Ever.”
“Aiden,” I say.
He shakes his head. “It’s not fair, Charlotte. It’s not fair that you had to suffer questions and embarrassment when you’ve done nothing to feel ashamed of. It’s not fucking right that opportunists made money off your soundbite with a song, and you never got a dime. You should have had the choice.”
“I’ve made my choice.” My voice feels choked, and I force my feelings down. Bury them deep and lock them away. “I told you that I don’t want this mentioned again. That I hate when people drag up the past. That I don’t want my name to be associated with that time in my life ever again if I can help it. I changed my last name!”
His eyes are fierce. “I know that. And you shouldn’t have to feel that way.”
“But I do!”
“You did nothing wrong.” His voice is hoarser than I’ve ever heard it, thick with conviction. He throws out his left hand. “ Nothing. You were nineteen, and you were taken advantage of. I’m trying to make it right.”
“Nothing will ever make it right,” I say. “I’ve already come to terms with that.”
“No, you haven’t.”
My breath catches, and he sees just how hard his words hit me. But he keeps going. “You haven’t, Charlotte, not really. I’ve seen how you constantly look around wherever we’re in a crowded room. How deeply those people who recognized you by the restaurant hurt you. You’re still ruled by someone else’s narrative. By Blake’s narrative, and by Jeff’s.”
I take a step back, and then another. There’s too little air in here. “You didn’t just say that to me.”
“Is it not the truth? You’ve told me over and over again to own my narrative, Charlotte. I’ve let you do it.”
“Because you asked me to! Because I’m writing a memoir !”
“Yes, and I’ve learned just how powerful that can be, thanks to you. I’ve read all the preliminary chapters you’ve sent me, Charlotte.”
The ones about him and his good qualities. His tenacity, his drive to overcome things. How broken he felt when the FBI charged his father. How he stepped up to clean up Alfred Hartman’s mess when he didn’t have to.
And how much the accusations and suspicions hurt.
That he was somehow involved. In the know. When he was, perhaps, the one person who had been deceived most of all.
“Don’t believe your own puff piece,” I tell him.
The words land. He pulls back, his eyebrows lowering. “Charlotte, the article is for you.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“Maybe not, but you need it.”
“That’s for me to decide.” I walk to my bedroom.
He follows. “Don’t run from me.”
“I don’t want my name in the media. I don’t want to dredge up the past. Isn’t that my decision?”
“Yes. But if that’s what you decided, you’ll just keep burying it instead, Charlotte. And it will always catch up with you.”
“It works for you,” I call over my shoulder.
“It doesn’t. It hasn’t. That’s what I’m learning.” He blows out a breath, and I hear the frustration in it. “That’s what you’ve been teaching me!”
His exasperation mirrors my own. “How could you not have asked me first?”
“I didn’t know she was going to reach out to you directly.”
I shake my head. “Not an excuse. How could you not have asked me, Aiden? If she hadn’t called me, would you have admitted you were behind the idea?”
The answer is in his eyes. He knows I wouldn’t have agreed if he’d asked. “I did it for you,” he says.
I shake my head. “You should have spoken to me.”
“I’m speaking to you now.”
That makes me laugh. “Yeah, but it’s a little too late, don’t you think?” I move to shut the door, but he holds up his hand and catches it neatly.
“Charlotte,” he says fiercely. “Don’t run away from me.”
“I need time alone,” I say. “Can I have that in the guest room, or do I need to leave?”
He takes a step back. “It’s not a guest room. It’s your room.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say and close the door. I lock it, too, knowing he can clearly hear the sound on the other side.