04

People wouldn’t say I was the most charming of men.

In fact, I was probably too serious that people around me outside of my family and friends treat me with such deference it actually got frustrating sometimes.

I understood it though and didn’t complain because I was Brandon Maxfield, after all.

I had responsibilities—money to make, people to keep employed, projects to do. I had to take things seriously with so much at stake. But even though I was often preoccupied to the point of being unapproachable, I was never as much of a beast as I’d been the last couple of days, since Dad dropped this complicated baggage called Charlotte Samuels on my lap.

Our first meeting didn’t go well but I had no plans of backing off. I knew my way around high-stakes negotiations. I often won them. But I have to admit that I’ve never met quite as wild a creature as Charlotte. It was going to take a different approach but I was by no means skittering away at the first snap of her teeth.

The memory of our heated confrontation at Marlow’s yesterday was seared in my brain that if I wasn’t muttering sulkily to Simone, I was ignoring her while we had dinner last night at her place. When she finally reached out to touch my hand because I didn’t even hear her calling my name, I felt a pang of guilt.

I’ve known Simone for years and she’d always been a good friend. She was glamorously beautiful and intelligent that it was no hardship when I agreed with her to make what started out as a casual thing between us into an exclusive relationship. It made sense. We had something good going. The sex was pretty good. The companionship was nice. The biggest relief for me out of that arrangement was that we understood where we were with each other. She’s a businesswoman with a work life as demanding as mine. She didn’t cling or pout when I couldn’t call her or make plans for dinner. She’s been married before and this was as casual for her as it was for me so there were no ripples. Just smooth-sailing—exactly how I liked my relationships.

So I don’t know what came over me when, as we sat there, comfortably chatting away after finally mentally kicking myself at being such surly company, I blurted out the fact that I was getting married.

Her face lost all color and her eyes grew wide as she gaped at me for a while.

I probably should’ve segued into it more smoothly. I probably would’ve if I’d even planned on saying it in the first place. But I hadn’t planned on it. It hadn’t even come up.

For one, Charlotte hasn’t even agreed yet. Two, even if she did, I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to do with Simone. My marriage was going to be in name only—a mere technicality. Was I even going to give up Simone or the other women who may come into my life in the year I was married ?

I wasn’t planning on claiming my husbandly rights with Charlotte. It would be crude to demand that when I was paying the girl a fortune. It made it too black and white. That didn’t mean though that I haven’t entertained the idea. Well, my body entertained it yesterday, before and after I realized who she was, but my brain had to shut it down. It was purely a business deal and mixing in my pleasures would be disaster.

Since Simone looked like she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her, I felt compelled to explain in hopes of taking away some of the sting of my announcement.

But as I explained, she just looked more and more confused that I eventually sighed and told her not to worry about it. That I was going to take care of it. She didn’t ask what was to become of us, and I was grateful for that because I didn’t have answers. The ingrained principle in me to be faithful to one’s wife and the urge to rebel after having been forced into this situation warred inside me and it was giving me a headache and the grumpiest disposition in the world.

When I left Simone’s place, I called up my lawyer. Over the phone, I told him the contract he needed to prepare, along with all the stipulations I required in it. If he’d seemed surprised by the turn of events, he didn’t say.

With little sleep, I dragged myself out of bed this morning, as grimly determined as ever to come to a settlement with Charlotte. I knew I had to think of a new approach and I spent the few hours at work distractedly contemplating all the possible ways our second meeting could turn out.

The girl had a prickly pride, I’ll give her that, and despite my initial assumptions of her part in this ridiculous scheme with my father, she was strong-willed and daring. She could also lop off body parts with her razor-sharp retorts. If I wanted to come out of this meeting with her agreement and my anatomy intact, I had to take care not to insult her. In my mutinous state yesterday, I got carried away and made things worse with her.

Gilles, the man from my security team that I’d asked to keep an eye on Charlotte’s comings and goings, told me she reported to the diner instead of staying at home on her day off—another indication of her dire financial situation.

The moment I entered Marlow’s, it almost seemed as if a radar went off because a waitress automatically came my way to say that Charlotte was out back in the alley taking out the trash.

I thanked her through gritted teeth as I made my way to the back of the diner.

She was taking out the trash. Great.

I wasn’t sure which upset me more—the fact that a young, vibrant girl like her was suppressed in such a small world as this or the fact that Dad had somehow put me in a position to feel responsible for her knowing I couldn’t just easily walk away.

That simmering emotion boiled over when I instantly spotted the couple tangled in a passionate embrace by the dumpster in the empty back alley.

At first, I was furious that she still messing around with other men when she was marrying me but that rage transformed into a dangerous aggression when I realized that Charlotte was twisting around to get free while Clarence, of all men, had his tongue down her throat and his hand on her breast.

My feet carried me there in a flash. I couldn’t even pause to reassess the situation I was walking into because the moment I saw her eyes squeezed shut in combined panic and revulsion, my fists just swung and didn’t stop until Clarence was a writhing mess on a ground.

He was the lowest form of men. I’ve heard talks about the sexual harassment cases he’d tried to hush over the years. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near women at all. He’d messed around with enough of them to no real consequence. If he thought to add Charlotte to that list, he was very wrong.

I made it very clear to him that he was to never approach her again.

She was going to be my wife and damn me if I let slime like him come anywhere near her or mark her like he did on her jaw. He was lucky I let him escape in one piece.

She seemed relieved by the rescue but whatever small advantage I’d gained by tossing out Clarence got decimated when I couldn’t help pointing out the risks she took by dallying with men like him for a some small change.

I didn’t miss the hundred-dollar bill that had fluttered to the ground. Nor did I miss the shame that dimmed her usually sparkling blue-green eyes, even as she stubbornly shot back at me for implying her to be a prostitute. She’d like to believe she wasn’t but how could she clearly keep an eye on the line she shouldn’t cross when she’s lightheaded from hunger and pulling double shifts ? She could fight back but could she do it well enough to defend herself if she runs into men who wouldn’t be as easily dissuaded as Clarence ?

It burned in my throat to tell her that she was worth more than what she was settling for but I think she knew that. Her righteous anger proved it when she slapped me. That gave me hope that maybe she hasn’t let herself sunk as low. It would be such a waste for someone of her spunk and spirit.

I stated my offer again and reassured her that I didn’t require her to fulfill her marital duties to me in bed. I had hoped to give her some reassurance. Even if she flirted with danger by courting the attention of men like Clarence, she was offended enough by the idea of trading sex for money.

I didn’t want her to think of my offer that way because it wasn’t like that.

It was a solution to both our problems, and even though I felt the most alarming stirring to pull her into my arms and hold her until she stopped trembling, I wasn’t going to act on my inconvenient attraction to her.

She was a means to an end.

That’s all.