Page 3 of Beautiful Desire
“Why me?” I ask. “Why not ask his mother?”
A smirk tugs up on the corner of his mouth. “You want to keep your bookstore, don’t you?”
Prick.“Yes,” I grit out. “But what makes you think, even for a second, he’d listen to anything I have to say?” Fletcher is a spoiled fucking brat and always has been. Although, it’s not all that surprising, considering the man sitting before me is the man who raised him.
“Since Fletcher was born, the plan has been for him to become a co-owner of St. James Properties when he turns twenty-five,” Alden states, twisting a pen between his thumb and index finger. “That’s next year, and he’s not ready. My son lacks the discipline and maturity for such a large responsibility, and I had hoped as he got older, things would change, but he’s proven time and time again, he’s not ready.”
I snort. “Well, whose fault is that, Mr. I Gave My Teenager A Black Card?”
He purses his lips, but says nothing to that. “Fletcher needs to finish his MBA; he’s starting his final year next month, and he needs to learn some responsibility and discipline.” Tipping his head toward me, he adds, “That’s where you come in. Keep an eye on him, make sure he does what he needs to do, and you keep your bookstore. I’ll even sign the deed over to you once Fletcher graduates.”
My heart thumps violently as I process what he’s saying, what he’s offering. Not only would I get to keep my business where it’s at—and keep it open—but in a year, I would own the building.I’d never have to worry about this happening again, because it would be mine.
But still, one question sits at the forefront of my mind. “Why me?” I ask again. “If he doesn’t listen to you, what makes you think he’d listen to me, of all people?”
“Well, off the top of my head, I can think of a couple reasons,” he murmurs, holding up a finger. “For one, you have your MBA. You know what it takes to get it done, and I think Fletcher could really use somebody, other than me, who’s been where he’s at. But secondly, your strong, take-no-shit-from-anybody, not-afraid-to-say-what’s-on-your-mind personality is exactly what Fletcher needs. He needs somebody who’ll call him on his shit, and while his mother loves him and, of course, wants what’s best for him, she’s always struggled with being firm with him.”
“So, let me get this straight,” I say. “If I make sure Fletcher graduates next year, and somehow teach him discipline, the building will be mine, legally?”
He nods once. “Correct.”
Hands clammy and pulse racing, I ponder his words for a moment. Do I really want to agree to be a man-child’s glorified babysitter for the next year? That sounds god awful.Butif Iagree to it, I’d get to keep my store—the single most important thing in my life. I cannot lose it.
Sliding my gaze over to him, I ask, “What if I can’t do it? What if he won’t listen?”
“You can, and you will,” he replies matter-of-factly. “If you want to keep your bookstore, you’ll find a way.” Holding out his hand, Alden arches a brow, and asks, “Do we have a deal, Georgia?”
I hold his gaze, knowing I don’t have a choice. This rich prick has me right where he wants me, and I have no one to blame but myself. With my jaw clenched, I exhale a harsh breath and slide my hand against his. “We have a deal.”
1
Fletcher, One Month Later
“Yo, did you order the food?” my buddy and the attorney for my father’s company, Reese, asks as he strolls back into my bedroom, handing me a beer before cracking open one of his own.
“Yeah.” I nod, taking a large swig from the can before placing it on top of my dresser, so I can get back to emptying out the drawers. I leave in the morning for Blossom Beach, and in true Fletcher fashion, I waited until the last possible minute to get this condo packed. In my defense, I don’t fucking want to go, and a part of me naively thought I could convince my dad to call off this ridiculous move.Lot of fucking good that did me.
“Can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” Reese mutters.
“Yeah, me fucking neither.” I huff. “But what choice do I have?”
“I don’t know, man. It’s too bad you’re not an adult who can make his own choices.” Pausing, he drags his gaze over at me, a smirk tugging on his lips as he adds, “Oh, wait— You actuallyarean adult who can make his own choices.”
Flipping him off, I reach for my phone as it starts buzzing on the dresser. Seeing the name flash across the screen, I heave a sigh before answering. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” I can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes me feel like shit for dreading this move. It’s not that I don’t love seeing my mother, but my life is here, in Charleston. It always has been. Even when she and my dad got a divorce and she moved away for work, I stayed here with my dad. “You got everything ready for tomorrow?” she asks.
“Just about.” That’s not the whole truth, but it’s not exactly a lie either. Between Reese and I, and the twenty-four rack of beer we picked up this morning, we’ve managed to make quite a dent in packing, but I still have a ways to go. “I’m leaving here first thing.”
“Good, good,” she chirps, her tone taking on a high pitch, like it does whenever she’s nervous.
Blowing out a breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose, already not liking where this is going. I don’t know what she’s about to tell me, but whatever it is, it’s going to piss me off. “Just spit it out.”
“There’s been somewhat of a hiccup and aslightchange of plans…” she starts to say, then clears her throat. “But I don’t want you to worry, honey, because we’ve got it all figured out”
Clenching my jaw, I heave a sigh. “What hiccup, Mom?”
“The plan was for Edward and I to move back into the house today, since the contractors finished all the work that required us to be out of the house. However, this morning, we learned a pipe burst in the middle of the night and flooded most of the main level.”
