25. Meg
25
MEG
MEGAN.
W hy did hearing him say my full name fill me with such foolish delight?
You thought you knew pain?
Try having a crush that just wouldn’t quit while the person you’re hopelessly into becomes even nicer, funnier, and more charming by the minute.
It was a special kind of agony.
Let’s not even get into the lunch plans that went down while no one was paying attention. And rambling like a Cupid casualty about his looks and feeling my tongue…ugh.
This was some alternate reality where I was stuck in the same loop, one smitten moment at a time.
And it was quickly becoming obvious that the more I resisted Byron, the clearer it became that my sanity depended on holding out as long as we worked together… The holding out part, which, if you hadn’t noticed, was getting flimsier by the second.
So yes, I was warming up to the idea of a quick, no-strings-attached fling just to nip this crush in the bud before it started sabotaging my productivity.
A speedy affair should take care of this silliness for sure, and I could bid this crush adios and carry on with my plans to conquer the world.
Byron and I might be from two different realms, but we were basically cut from the same cloth. Having fun would never get in the way of business, and neither one of us was the type to get tangled up in emotional drama.
As long as Isabel and Roman (or anyone else, for that matter) never found out, everything would be fine. Perfectly fine. And I was almost sure he harbored the same sentiments.
With that tempting thought, I finished my espresso, and my mind wandered back to Elio Ricks. I wanted to text him that hell was about to rain down, but I held back.
If Byron said he’d handle it, I trusted him. To say nothing of the rush I felt as he took command. And also saving me from ending up doing twenty to life for going through with my homicidal plans.
I’d scarcely sat down at my desk, ready to attack the ton of work I had to do, when my phone dinged with a text. It was Roman.
Roman: Contract problems?
Me: Yup .
Roman: My office in ten.
As if it couldn’t have been settled over text or email. There was only one reason Roman insisted on seeing me in person, the contracts probably being second on his list.
I grudgingly made the long trek over to his office and announced myself with a sharp knock on the open door. True to form, Roman stood up when I walked in.
I’d say this for them, both the Belmont brothers knew their manners, if nothing else.
“Hey,” I said, noticing that he looked even worse than yesterday, like torment was slowly eating him up from the inside.
Once again, I reluctantly felt a pang of sympathy.
“How are you, Meg?” he asked, gesturing to a chair for me to sit in, which I did.
“Dancing on cloud nine. Doesn’t look like I can say the same thing for you, though.”
A tick harried his jaw, his face stone. “Talk to me about the contracts…” he said, not wasting time. “And I want the names of every single lawyer responsible for the lazy mistakes.”
I answered him with a glare. “Great! Next thing I’ll be known as the bitch who snitched. And you know what they say, snitches get stitches . Good thing this isn’t jail, or I’d be shanked by noon.”
Roman was unimpressed by my mini outburst. “Can we skip the dramatics, please. Nobody will ever know where this information is coming from…I’m listening.”
Given the go-ahead, I laid it all out, ticking off one issue after another with how the Belmont Trust was mishandling their new contracts.
Roman listened intently, his focus unwavering. His business mind seemed unaffected by his heart being squashed to smithereens. Or maybe that was just his way of coping, who knew.
“For example, Albrecht Telekom,” I continued. “In the batch of contracts with them, the terms are riddled with vague clauses that leave too much room for interpretation, like the language on payment structures, which can be twisted to delay compensation indefinitely. Then there are the indemnity clauses. Albrecht Telekom pushes all the responsibility onto the Belmont Trust, leaving Albrecht Telekom off the hook entirely in case of any legal fallout, regardless of whether their actions triggered the issue.”
"Oh, really," Roman grumbled, a storm brewing behind his blue eyes. “Some heads are going to roll over this.”
It was my turn to drive the point home. “And by the way, I saw the contract law book you were reading in the library. I presume it’s you unless Nelson became a contract law enthusiast.”
“What about it?”
“Come on, Roman. It’s the worst book on contract law. I have a better one for you to read.”
“One not in our library?”
“Somehow, I don’t see your library acquiring a book called Contract Law for Total Dummies. ”
I marked the nerve pulsing in his jaw, and it was during the awkward silence that Roman realized I was not joking. “And you stand by this book’s authenticity?”
“Otherwise, I would not be recommending it.”
“Fine, text me the details,” he relented. “I’ll ask Andy to get me a copy.”
I fished a copy of the book out of my bag and plonked it down on his desk. “I have one for you right here. I suggest you read it soon.”
An hour later, Roman had Andy set up a meeting with a few of the senior lawyers in their legal department and asked me to sit in on it.
“Friday, at eight. In my office,” he told me. “That should give you enough time to prepare.”
“Are you kidding? Those old stiffs aren’t going to listen to what a rookie like me has to say.”
“They will if I tell them to,” he said, his tone final.
“Okay, if you say so,” I said and stood up, preparing to leave.
“Sit, we’re not done,” he ordered, his voice shoving my ass right back into the chair.
I bristled. “And here I thought we were.”
“Not until I say we are,” he warned me. “Be angry about Isabel all you want, but you’re still working for the Trust...and that would be me.”
He had a point, much as I hated it. Working for the Belmont Trust was my ticket to a thriving career. So, it was suck it up or go somewhere else. Not that an opportunity like this existed anywhere else for someone who didn’t graduate from Havard or Yale.
But hell, if I was going to let him bully me into giving him any info about Isabel. “Roman, I’m not telling you where she is.”
“Can’t remember asking you, Meg. I just want to know if she’s okay.”
I scoffed. “Depends on what you define as okay. At a fair guess, I’d say she’s not. To tell you the truth, she was not okay with any of what you offered her, but between her poor defenseless heart and me pushing, pushing, pushing, she gave in. But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? And now you and I are both suffering the consequences.”
“Meg, you did nothing wrong, it was all me.”
“I’m smart enough to see someone like you coming, and instead of paying attention to the red flags, I totally ignored them because you made her happy. And I stared myself blind at that.”
Every drop of blood drained from his face. My eyes drew to Roman’s hands, and to my surprise, they were shaking, desperation oozing out of him.
Where he was the big scary boss a minute ago, he now sounded like a man unraveling.
“I want to tell her how sorry I am, that I regret it more than I can ever say. But she’s not answering my texts or calls,” he admitted. “In fact, she’s blocked me on every number. And I understand why. But can you please give her a message for me? She’ll listen to you.”
For a split second, I was torn. It still didn’t make sense how these two people, once the epitome of timeless love, had ended up here.
Their bond was the kind everyone envied and would have given anything to have. And now? All scattered to the winds.
I shook my head no. “You should know better than to ask me to do that. Isabel needs time and space, and a lot of it. Me turning into your private messenger would be a complete betrayal to her. I feel shitty enough for pushing her into this relationship in the first place. So, you’d better tell me now if refusing to pass your messages on means I’ll eventually have to pick between this job and Isabel.”
A tense calm settled in the air, and nerves were tying my guts into wicked knots.
What if Roman didn’t appreciate my loyalty to Isabel all that much? No way did I have the resources to enforce the contract I’d signed with the Belmont Trust.
He got up from his chair and walked to the window overlooking the front terrace, his back to me. “You have to believe me, if I tell you, I will find a way to make this right.”
“And how do you plan on doing that, Roman?”
Roman swung around. “I need some time to figure it out, but I will. It’s also ridiculous to ever think I would expect you to choose between your job and staying loyal to Isabel. It’s actually a comfort that she has you as a friend. And also, you’re an asset to the Belmont Trust, and I never let business interfere with my personal life.”
A breath of relief escaped me. “Okay, then. I’m glad that’s settled.”
He walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, took out a small, flat pouch, and handed it to me. “Your expense account. For anything you need.”
I slid the black Amex card out of its pouch, and no joke, I almost drooled all over the damn thing. Not to mention my name printed at the bottom: Megan Belfiore .
“You’re gonna need to be more specific,” I mumbled. “Where do I draw the line between what I want and what I need for the business?”
For the first time, Roman almost cracked a smile. “It’s yours to do what you want, Meg. And that includes anything Isabel needs. I’ve tried to deposit funds into her bank account, but they’ve been declined. And I respect that.”
My expression might have given away my question before I asked. “Dare I ask what the limit on this thing is, or would that be too tacky?”
“It’s a hundred thousand. If you need more down the line, just let Andy know.”
My mind swirled. The things I could do with a hundred thousand dollars. At the same time, I suddenly felt this great sense of responsibility assaulting me. I wasn’t going to be stupid with this card.
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “I’ll be responsible with it, I promise.”
Roman gave me a measured look. “Well, that’s entirely up to you. Just don’t blow it on something the Trust would cover anyway, like student loans.”
I blinked. “Did you just say the Trust covers student loans?”
“Yes. It’s not a burden we expect anyone working for us to carry.”
He paused. “And it’s definitely not contingent on giving me any information on Isabel, in case you were wondering.”
I had a few more questions, but it appeared the meeting was now over. Roman had returned to his desk and was scrolling through one of his phones.
As I made my way to the door, he called out. “Oh wait, before you go, Meg… There’s a personal project I’m developing. It’s very important to me, and I want you and Byron in on it. But what I need to know from you is if you’re okay working with him.”
It was a strange question that caught me off guard. I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Roman brushed a hand through his hair. “He had reservations about the two of you working together, so I just wanted to make sure you were on-board.”
My chest constricted. “Oh… He had reservations?”
To Roman, it was all business, a piece of information to relay. Unaware of the confusion brewing inside me, he continued. “As I told him, it’s his decision whether he wants to stay on the project. But you’re staying on it, one way or another. I’m sure he’ll do what it takes to make it work.”
His phone beeped. It was Andy, giving Roman a five-minute warning for his next meeting. I saw my chance to escape before I lost my cool.
And to retreat to the privacy of my office and figure out how to deal with the fact that the guy I had a crush on was turning out to be a complete asshole after all.