Page 70 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
After a moment’s hesitation spent with my teeth digging into my lip so hard it hurt, I stood, too.
* * *
“Charlie,” I said, coming to a stop a half-dozen steps away from him in the hallway.
The blue circles under his eyes looked familiar from my own mirror. Had he stayed awake all night too, unable to sleep for the gnawing in his stomach? I pressed my lips tight.It doesn’t matter what he feels.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I heard from James.”
I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak, and anyway, the only thing I could think to say waswhat are you doing here?I didn’t want to care what he was doing here–no, Ididn’tcare. I stayed silent.
“I’m interrupting,” he said at last. His shoulders looked tense and uncomfortable in his slightly-wrinkled dress shirt. “I’m sorry. I came as soon as I could. I had to arrange things.”
“Arrange what things?” I asked, then shook my head. “Actually, I’m not interested.”
“I know,” he held up his hands. “I know. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to–”
“I don’t want to hear it, Charlie,” I decided. “I never want to hear from you again.” I folded my arms across my chest, so tight that the button of my navy blazer dug into my sternum, and I was thankful for the focal point. “I got my award. Go.”
He huffed out a laugh, one corner of his mouth crooking upwards a fraction, and my jaw clenched. “No, no, you know, that would have fooled me a few months ago. You had me convinced, just like everyone else,” he said. “Samantha Scott, the agent who doesn’t believe in romance, only sells it. But I know you, Samantha,” he continued, taking a step closer. “You want everyone to think that that girl from high school is gone, that the Samantha Scott I knew a decade and a half ago is gone. But I know that’s not true, and I think you know that too.” I pressed my lips together tightly. “You’re her. The same Samantha Scott who loved pink cashmere and poetry and ate in the library so she could read just one more chapter, just to get a little closer to theI love, I love, I love yous.”
“I don’t like–”
“Pride and Prejudice. I know.” He laughed. “God, I fuckingknow. So this…” He pressed the slim folder into my hands. “This is for you.”
I flipped it open.Letter of Intent. It was full of legalese, but I’d seen enough contracts to get the picture. I closed it again, held it out in front of me. I had already told him I didn’t want this.
“You sold your company.”
He nodded, but didn’t reach for the folder.
“I’m sure my brother is very pleased.”
“I doubt it. I didn’t sell it to him.”
My heart stopped, my blood motionless in my veins.That’s why he isn’t here tonight.He would be furious. If he wanted Veritech, and Charlie had sold it out from underneath him…
I opened the folder again, scanning for the last name we shared. It was nowhere to be seen. There was another name.Aoki.Aoki. It was there again.Aoki, and an address, somewhere in Tokyo.
I looked up from the document to Charlie, standing in front of me, hands in the pockets of his khakis, scruffy five o’clock shadow on his face. The tired blue rings under his eyes. Had he slept at all? He hadn’t been up all night tossing restlessly in bed, like I had; he’d been doing this. Selling his company. The one he’d worked so hard to build, the one which had made him who he was.
But he hadn’t sold it to my brother.
He’d sold it to someone half a world away.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
“I had other offers before his, Samantha. Veritech is… well, you know.” He shrugged. “It’s made me Manhattan’smost eligible billionaire.The company made a lot of money for me, and now, it will make a lot of money for someone else.”
“But… What about your IPO?”
“Takes too fucking long.”
I frowned. I didn’t know why he was telling me this. “I’m sorry, I don’t…”
“Listen, Sami–Samantha,” he corrected, his brows furrowing over the word. “I hadn’t seriously considered selling until your brother made me that offer. Wait,” he said, seeing something in my expression. “Not because I wanted to sell to your brother. Well, I did, but.Fuck, I’m doing this wrong. Just,please, let me explain–”
“Okay,” I said, holding my arms even tighter across myself, as if they could protect me. As if the flimsy documents clutched to my chest could keep my heart from falling out.
