23. Meg
23
MEG
A s we drove through the black gates of Belmont Manor and down the long, winding lane, the mansion slowly came into view.
For some reason, this morning it felt far less imposing, less intimidating.
I even noticed the charming fountain at the center of the pond, where a pair of chubby bronze cherubs were peeing into the water as if no one was watching.
And oh look, there were pretty gazebos which made it…what was the word? A kind of enchanting scene.
Kevin dropped me off at the south wing, and this time, there was no security waiting to greet me. Like I was expected to be there.
Strangely, it didn’t feel half bad. Not that I was about to start growing fond of the place, given all the baggage it came with, thank you very much.
I got out of the Navigator without waiting for Kevin to open the door. “Thanks for the backup, Kev. There’s a pizza at Pops’ Pizza Place with your name on it, any time you want. My treat.”
“Do they have vegetarian pizza?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes to the heavens. “For my sanity, I’ll just pretend you didn’t ask that…but hey, I guess you could get them to leave the pepperoni off?”
He chuckled. “Should I even dare ask if the ingredients are organic or if they have vegetarian cheese?”
The look I shot him said it all. “Goodbye, Kev. I hope you find a nice patch of green grass to graze on for lunch.”
Making my way into the south wing, I could still hear him laugh.
As I took the iron gate elevator to the second floor and walked down the maze of hallways, a few stray butterflies started flapping around inside my stomach, growing wackier the closer I got to my office.
Why, you ask? Good question. No one was supposed to get this excited going to work. Or maybe it didn’t have anything to do with work at all.
Sure, if you had to put it under a microscope, you’d probably find it was called being a lascivious little wench with a teeny tiny crush on her colleague at work.
Please, God, I prayed quietly as I walked down the hallway. Let me avoid running into you-know-who. Just give me some time to gather myself first, and to—
"Good morning, Megan," Byron said behind me, his voice warm and smooth, drizzling like molten lava over my poor defenseless heart, stealing the air right out of my chest.
Damn.
Even with my pulse fluttering at an alarming rate, I managed to do a dignified-ish spin around.
Byron was striding down the hallways toward me, all 6 feet 3 inches of him poured into a classic bespoke suit. And if Byron without a shirt was a sight to behold, let me present you this man in a dark three-piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt and silk tie.
Well, so much for my casual look today. And I had to hand it to him, his bruises were healing nicely. Or maybe they just didn’t make a noticeable dent in his hypnotic sex appeal.
My mouth opened and closed, and I might have struggled to find words before I finally managed to croak, “Oh... it's you. Hi.”
He came to a halt just a yard away from me, our eyes in lockdown, his gaze burning into mine, a whiff of his aftershave assaulting my delicate state of bewilderment.
“Hi,” he said as if he hadn’t just greeted me a few seconds ago. I also didn’t miss the way his eyes surreptitiously raked over my body, and all it did was ignite a frenzy of reckless thoughts swirling in my mind.
My breathing became a touch ragged, and as if that wasn’t enough to deal with, my dream from last night unexpectedly jumped the line and became a vivid memory, and my gaze slipped to his mouth.
The very mouth that, if you had guessed it, played a starring role in my dream.
A knowing smile bloomed on his lips as if he could read my mind.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late,” I stammered.
This acting like a lovesick floozie was total bullshit, I thought, and it was crucial I pulled myself together. So, I chose to ramble my discomfort away. “We made a pit stop on the way over here. I had to take care of something, and it took a little longer than I thought it would--”
“I don’t care about you being late,” he said. “I was just worried you’d decided to skip out on coming to Belmont Manor today altogether.”
Our gazes collided once more, and this time, I made sure to hold my ground lest my reputation as a force to be reckoned with go up in smoke.
I would not look at his mouth.
Nor would I see his bare chest in my mind’s eye.
And I would not discuss reacting to his stupid breath-robbing smile.
An awkward snort filtered through my fake bravado. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, after yesterday….” His eyes were now leisurely skimming me from tip to toe again, and I thought maybe the ripped jeans hadn’t been the best choice after all.
Mimi was right, they didn’t exactly scream lawyer or professional, and here Byron was all dressed up, looking like the proper CEO he was soon to be.
“Oh, please,” I said, waving away the absurd notion while flicking a stray curl from my face. “It would take a little more than just a few goofy things to happen before I quit. Besides, I need this job. If you haven’t noticed, they don’t hand jobs like this out at the local employment fair.”
I nailed the nonchalance perfectly, even if a flash of that gorgeous smile breaking through his facade suggested he wasn’t totally fooled.
I held up the small cooler bag like the first prize at a county fair. “Lasagna and tiramisu. You’re in for a treat at lunch. And the best part is my mom knows it’s for you and she doesn’t mind. My dad is another story, but he doesn’t have to know.”
“That sounds great,” he said. “And you’ll be pleased to know that we have a brand-new espresso machine.”
“Italian, I presume.”
“Is there any other kind?”
But before I could reply, my phone texted with a ding. I glanced at it to make sure it wasn’t from anyone in the family. Instead, I saw a message in all caps.
Text: YOU THREATEN ME AGAIN, BITCH, AND THIS VIDEO GOES ONLINE AND THEN YOUR DADDY’S BUSINESS IS DEAD FOR GOOD.
Attached to the text was a video of me inside GenZ ZA, filmed on an iPhone. My heart sank. The tone of the message was unmistakable — the video had been manipulated to paint me in the worst light.
“Excuse me, I need to deal with this,” I told Byron, then made a beeline for my office.
Once inside, I shut the door, put the cooler bag on my desk, and hit play on the video. It was worse than I’d imagined.
The sleazebag knew exactly what he was doing, editing the video to twist the narrative.
In the video, it sounded as if I was demanding drugs with my pizza, much like what they do at Pop's Pizza Place on special request.
Even though the voice wasn’t mine, it sounded real enough to trigger a storm of public backlash, which was bad news for Pops and business once everyone knew I was his kid.
My anger morphed into fear. If this idiot was just trying to mess with me, I could deal with him, but he was hell-bent on destroying Pops.
There was a knock at the door. It was probably Byron. Whatever he needed, it could wait.
“Not now, okay?” I muttered, my mind spinning. I’d faced my share of battles, but online blackmail backed by this level of technology was new ground for me.
I could go to the police, but the burden of proving the video was doctored would fall squarely on me. And by then, the damage to Pops’ business would have been done.
Another knock echoed through the door.
This time, I raised my voice. “I said, not now, please!”
The next thing I knew, Byron was in my office, striding straight toward my desk without hesitation. I couldn't help but notice he was moving a hell of a lot better than he had yesterday.
Not that I had the luxury of dwelling on it because I was staring down a crisis with that greasy fool at GenZ Za , who had me entertaining extremely violent thoughts.
“I said—” I began, but Byron cut me off before another word could escape my lips.
“I know what you said, Megan. But something’s clearly going on.”
Megan.
See how I brushed away the tingle zapping every nerve ending from my toes up.
“It’s nothing,” I muttered. “Really.”
He didn’t buy it. “If it’s nothing, then I’d hate to see when it’s something. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My nerves were already a little frayed, and Byron was making it ten times worse.
I needed to think, and he was distracting me by being so damn inquisitive. “Listen,” I tried again, “I don’t want to be rude, but it’s got nothing to do with you.”
Byron’s mouth formed a half-smile like he was trying to talk me down from a ledge. “Thank God for that. For once I’m not the one who screwed up. Imagine my relief.”
“What I mean is…it’s none of your business, Byron. So, don’t worry about it.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I apologize. Didn’t mean to intrude. But if there’s anything I can do…”
I shook my head, no. “Not really, but thanks.”
He flashed me a reassuring smile as he headed toward the door that led to the secret passage and his office. “Well, you know where to find me… I’m a few steps away.”
“Sure,” I replied, my mind already spinning through ways to untangle the mess I found myself in with the video.
Byron leaned casually against the door, hands in his pockets, his head slightly tilted. “I just need to know you're okay. The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll leave.”
Why did he have to say it like that? I was no damsel in distress, yet I felt this overwhelming urge to spill everything to him. Like I wanted to share this burden and not deal with it alone.
What was it about this guy that made me want to tell him my deepest secrets and bare my soul?
“It’s just this scumbag I’m dealing with…” I spluttered, immediately regretting sounding so weak.
It got Byron’s full attention. “What scumbag?” he growled. “Did he do something to you? Who is he!?”
Wow, not exactly the calm, collected response you’d expect from a CEO of the Belmont Trust, but fine. And let’s not ignore the zing his growl whispered down my spine.
“It’s a guy messing with our family’s pizza place…and you’ve never met such a greasy dipshit in your life… He’s threatening me with a fake video like he’s out for some kind of twisted revenge. And if that’s not enough, he has his cousin raise the rent on Pops’ Pizza Place just about every month. And I don’t know what to do or how to protect my family from any of this.”
Byron waited patiently for me to finish, even if it was a half-assed explanation.
“Meg…” he said as he came closer, his eyes finding mine. “What guy, what video? Tell me what happened. Start at the top and work your way down.”
Taking a deep breath, I explained the situation. By the time I showed Byron the video, his features had become steel, and he looked ready to crush whoever was the cause of all this misery.
“Well, his first mistake was messing with your family,” Byron said calmly. “His second mistake was threatening you. He fucked around and he’s about to find out.”
To me, it sounded as if Byron knew how to deal with a creep like Elio Ricks, and miracle to behold, my panic mysteriously began to subside.