9. Byron
9
BYRON
S uddenly, my goal to get Miss Belfiore away from Belmont Manor as quickly as humanly possible had faded into foggy distance.
Why was that you ask?
Because nothing about what just happened in the last twenty minutes indicated that Meg hated me as much as she wanted to, or as much as I thought she did.
Please let’s not forget when she hit her head on my desk and I had the pleasure of steadying her, my hand trailing down her waist until it landed on the curve of her hip.
At the same time, her scent wafted up my nose, a sweet, citrusy burst with the warm, musky smell of a golden sunset in a field of wildflowers.
(And there it was, that last sentence, a sure sign that I was losing my mind. Because sunsets didn’t smell. Did they? )
Anyway, all of it was taking my imagination on a wild ride from which I reluctantly returned, crash-landing into reality when Meg severed herself from me like I was the bubonic plague.
Not that I was so ignorant as to think something more than being co-workers could ever work between us. But we had a decent chemistry that I thought would serve well in a sweat-breaking environment where hundred-million-dollar deals were on the line every day.
I needed a lawyer with some spunk by my side to navigate this cutthroat business world. And let’s face it, no one could accuse Meg Belfiore of lacking any spunk.
Not that I had the faintest idea of her capabilities, but if Roman thought she was good, I was going to trust his word.
Sure, it would take some willpower for that chemistry between us at the office not to bleed into my private thoughts, but what were these little obstacles in life other than learning curves?
And if my shaky rationale sounds like bullshit to you, then you might be half right.
There was a moment, a couple actually, when I stared into Meg’s eyes where something other than loathing was flickering, and I can’t say it didn’t leave me wondering--
Nelson cleared his throat again, his patience running out. He waited for me to put my shirt on before giving me the menu options for lunch.
I chose fettuccine Alfredo with a side salad and chocolate cake with ganache glaze for dessert.
If you guessed that I didn’t shy away from good food, you’d be correct. Thus, my preference for a woman who could indulge in a good meal.
Which, due to a lack of suitable candidates in my previous life, led to my dining experiences becoming a sacred ritual I preferred to enjoy all by myself—most of the time.
The last thing I needed was to be chastised by a diet nut for relishing an absurd amount of carbs and enjoying a medium- rare steak, and let’s not forget enjoying a sinful dessert with my coffee, which was the perfect way to round off a delicious meal.
And now my thoughts ventured back to my co-worker next door and what she was going to order for lunch.
I prayed that Meg would order a salad as her main meal because that would definitely be the Universe telling me to back off and stay in my lane.
On the other hand, if Meg ordered something I’d enjoy eating myself, then I would face a pesky dilemma because then she’d be ticking off every damn box.
As if things weren’t complicated enough.
“If that is all, I’ll let you get back to…business,” Nelson said and strode to the door like the proper houseman he was.
“Nelson…” I called out carefully.
He turned in his step. “Yes, Byron.”
“I know what a pain in the ass I was before, and how disrespectful I was to you at times. And I want you to accept my sincerest apology. Please believe me if I tell you I’m not that guy anymore.”
It took Nelson a few seconds to assess my sincerity, during which I felt a prickle of tension pulling at the back of my neck.
Nelson was an institution at Belmont Manor, highly regarded by the staff, and more importantly, the man my father and Emily had trusted for over two and a half decades to run this house.
Then he smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate the apology. But I must say, despite the wicked front you put up all these years, I knew somewhere inside you was a decent man. I’m glad he found his way out.”
As he started to make his way to the door, I plucked up the courage to stop him again.
“If you could do me one favor, please…” I said hesitantly.
Nelson turned around. “Yes?”
“Could you please text me and let me know what Meg ordered for lunch?”
There was a moment when Nelson looked like the schoolmaster about to scold an unruly boy. “Byron…”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir?”
“Be careful with Meg. She might not be as tough as she makes herself out to be. Behind that bold exterior is a kind and vulnerable soul. I’d hate to see her get hurt. We’ve had enough of that going around lately, don’t you think?”
That should have been the end of the conversation, but suddenly, I felt the need to unburden myself to someone. And who better than the man who had on occasion stepped in as a surrogate father, and who’d attended my high school graduation with Emily when my father was on one of his overseas trips.
“She’s like no one I’ve ever met, Nelson. And this feeling…it’s not a feeling I can explain. But yes, I don’t plan on doing anything stupid. You have my word.”
“Excellent, I’m happy to hear that,” he said. “And yes, I’ll text you once I know what she’ll be having for lunch.”
This time, Nelson made a clean escape, and I was left alone in my new office, the black flash drive begging for my attention.
But my curiosity superseded my sense of duty, and now I had this overwhelming desire to trespass and investigate the secret passage I shared with Meg Belfiore.
Where apparently, there were rules for me to follow now.
Before I could make any attempt to investigate, a sharp knock on the door delivered a man about Roman’s age into my office, wearing black horn-rimmed glasses and a black suit.
He was what I would have expected a CIA agent to look like in the 1950’s. Then I realized.
“Andy Wilson? You’re Roman’s assistant.”
He nodded, and it was impossible to ignore the tinge of disapproval in his voice. “His day assistant, yes. You and I have spoken a few times on the phone,” he said, not in any rush to shake my hand.
I sighed on the inside. Yet another person I owed an apology for being a prick.
“Not always pleasant conversations, and I’m sorry about that,” I said.
If I expected this guy to fall over his feet accepting my apology, I was sorely mistaken.
He barely shrugged. “That’s fine, I didn’t take it personally. I had no skin in the game. Just doing my job.”
“If it’s of any worth to you, I’ll be conducting myself better from now on.”
His reaction was minimal, and I was beginning to realize Andy might be the world’s least impressionable man.
“We have a lot to get through today,” he said. “So, the sooner we start… Roman told me he gave you a flash drive. I take it you’ve had a look at it?”
I fished the black drive out of my pocket. “I was actually just about to,” I said quickly.
He scanned me from my shoes up with no intention of sparing my feelings. “I’d say face-to-face meetings with execs are out of the question for a while. Not the best look for the Belmont Trust when the new CEO looks like he got into a barroom brawl with an enraged biker. For now, we’ll keep it to the more administrative part…”
A text buzzed on my phone, and a vine of heat coiled into my chest.
It had to be Nelson texting me about Meg’s lunch order. I was about to find out if Miss Belfiore was ticking off that final box.
I didn’t dare look at my phone because I had a feeling that Andy wouldn’t appreciate the distraction. And in the next hour, Andy picked up where Roman had left off this morning and meticulously outlined the key responsibilities that would define my role as CEO of the trust.
Slowly but surely, my initial apprehension of taking on this responsibility began to vanish.
For the first time, I felt a sense of clarity and direction that had eluded me for so long. As if I had a purpose and that I wouldn’t be a waste of space for the rest of my life. And that just perhaps this might be my chance to prove to my father and Roman that I could become a valuable and indispensable part of the Belmont Trust.
I was still basking in the afterglow of my aha moment when there was a knock on the secret passage door.
It opened in a slit and Meg snarled through the crack in a raspy voice. “Are you respectable? Because I would hate to catch you naked again…”
Andy’s brows might’ve ascended a millimeter as if he wasn’t sure what he’d just heard.
Meg didn’t wait for a reply and promptly swanned her way into the office, now wearing her heels again, I noticed.
I stood up and smiled as she approached my desk. If nothing else, my manners as a gentleman were impeccable.
“The new contract lawyer Roman employed to help me out,” I said to Andy. “Please meet Meg Belfiore. Meg, this is Andy Wilson, Roman’s assistant.”
I felt a little smug when Andy showed no class and remained in his seat.
Meg locked eyes with him. “Hi…just the guy I wanted to see.”
“Well hello,” Andy said, not nearly as gruff with her as he had been with me earlier.
She chuckled. “If you were going for the old-timey spy look, congrats, you pulled it off. But listen, when you have a minute, I have some questions about the instructions Roman left me on the flash drive. They came with no clarification whatsoever, and I’m kinda in the dark about a few things. My office is next door.”
“I have a few minutes now,” Andy said, ready to abandon me with zero qualms. “I’m sure Byron needs a break.”
Who was this guy, and what had he done with the Andy Wilson I met? I sat down again.
“I don’t need a break, I’m fine,” I interjected. “Someone was kind enough to rub some pain-relieving cream on my back, and it’s working like a charm.”
There was a split second when a temperamental pout tugged at Meg’s mouth before she revised her posture and slipped into lawyer mode. “Actually, I have a question for you too, Mr. Belmont.”
“Call me Byron. I mean, you’ve had your hands on my naked back, and more specifically, my hematomas.”
“Your hema-what?”
“Hematomas… When bruises go big or go home.”
Her temperamental pout returned in full force. “Well, if you can give me directions to your amazing library here, I’d appreciate it.”
“I could just take you there if you want.”
“That would take twice the time since you need a cane to walk.”
“I’ve ditched the cane. My back pain is all but gone, thanks to you.”
“Directions would do just fine.”
“I would hate for you to get lost.”
“I’d hate that too,” she said, “but see how I deal with my fears and confront them head-on by asking for directions.”
Meg Belfiore was not to be toyed with, and I reluctantly gave in. “Out the door, turn to your right. It’s a bit of a walk, but you will eventually find the double oak doors on your left.”
“Thanks. See, that was not so hard,” she taunted me and turned her attention to Andy. “I have to do a little research in the library first, but how about meeting me an hour from now in my office? It’s right next door.”
Andy smiled, a little too friendly, I thought. He was neutral no more. “Sure, I can arrange that,” he said, still smiling.
I felt a pinprick of what could only be a touch of heartburn and definitely not jealousy because the only time I was jealous in my life was when Harrold Bingham got on the waiting list for the Bugatti Tourbillon before me. Which I was going to cancel now anyway because I was not that guy wanting a Bugatti Tourbillon anymore.
A Range Rover, like the one my brother drove, would fit my current needs just fine.
While Andy and Meg were discussing their oh so important meeting, I stole a glance at the text Nelson sent me.
And there it was, Meg’s lunch order. She’d opted for a burger, fries, and a root beer float. Ticking off the last damn box.
I was so fucked.
It was time to butt in and tell Andy how the rest of this day was going to play out in case he thought he could dawdle in Meg’s office forever.
“I’d like to get as much as possible done today,” I told him. “So, if you don’t mind getting back as soon as your meeting with Meg is done.”
“Of course,” he said, noticeably not smiling at me. “But I have to say you’re getting a handle on things much quicker than I expected…so, I’ll have lunch with Meg and then you and I will get right back to business.”
Did I hear correctly…he was having lunch with Meg?
My heartburn became slightly worse. “Then you’d better put your lunch order in because I doubt she’ll share her burger with you,” I said, realizing that nanosecond too late—
Meg cocked her head, eyes glinting unnaturally. “How do you know I ordered a burger for lunch?”
A slimy white lie slipped past my lips. “Just a wild guess…” And because it was impossible to get a handle on this peculiar feeling sweeping through my chest, I simply had to double down. “You look like someone who might enjoy a good burger.”
Shit . If that didn’t sound like the worst thing to say to a woman.
And if anyone would take it the wrong way, that would be Meg. She didn’t have to say a word, it was all neatly stated in the defiant glare she hurled my way.
She whipped her messy curls over her shoulder with a brisk flick of her hand. “Well, it’s not just any burger. It’s medium rare with bacon, onion, and extra cheese with guacamole on the side for some added spice. And I eat with my hands. Like the saying goes, If it doesn't get all over the place, it doesn't belong in your face. ”
I had to shift slightly to make space for the swelling in my pants.
Who knew arousal was possible in my condition? And not just any arousal, this was for my co-worker I hardly knew, and who I might have just insulted.
With a little wave at Andy, she set out for the long trip to the library.
You have to believe me when I say it was impossible not to watch Meg walk away. I could probably pen an ode to watching her move, and since a classic ode was structured in three major parts, at least two of them would be dedicated to the sway in her hips as she sashayed on.
At the door, she swung around briefly, only to blast me another cheeky look, a smile slowly curling to life on her face.
“I’m going to the library now,” she declared. “I’ll try not to get lost. If you see Roman before I do, please tell him that if all this work he gave me was his way of bullying me into spilling the beans about Isabel, he chose the wrong woman to intimidate. Toodle-oo.”
Slamming the door could’ve been an accident, it could also have been a passive-aggressive way to make her point.
Either way, the big room suddenly felt very empty without Meg.
And just like that, Andy was back to being a dispassionate prick. “I don’t think she likes you very much,” he said, some glee in his tone.
At least he had the good sense not to look too arrogant.
I might have snarled a little. “Well, as Roman said, this is a place of work, not a congeniality contest.”
“The burger comment probably didn’t help,” the starchy bastard added with a headshake and an incredulous snort. “Man, that was really insensitive.”
There was a distinct possibility that I might call on Old Byron to take the wheel here. But by some miracle, the little angel on my right shoulder managed to drown out the little devil perched on my left.
And what was this if not the first lesson in how to ignore the indignity I felt, smile until my cheeks hurt, and pretend I didn’t give a damn.
I plastered a grin on my face. “Well, now that we’ve established what a dope I am, why don’t we get on with business so I at least get one thing right today.”