Page 2 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)
“No, please let me finish.” My tone softens, full of emotion as I hold up my hand.
“Asking you to change your plans isn’t fair of me, I know that.
I know it would cost you money, but at the end of the day, you would still be okay—you’d still have your cushy bank accounts, your vacation homes, your boats.
If you lost out on money from this, you would be fine.
But I wouldn’t. If you move forward with this plan, I will lose everything .
So please, I am begging you—and that’s not something I do, ever —if there is ever a time to allow emotions to affect your decision making, it’s now.
There must be some sort of an agreement we can come to, some scenario that allows me to stay where I’m at. I will do whatever it takes. Please .”
An uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest as soon as I get the words out, and it only intensifies as the seconds tick by and Alden says nothing.
Elbow propped on the arm of his chair, his fingers rub along his stubbly chin while he shifts his attention to the computer screen again.
I can’t read his expression, and it’s making me squirm.
Finally, clearing his throat, Alden slides his gaze over to me. “Whatever it takes?” he asks, arching a brow.
Um, what? My face twists up before I can stop myself. “Anything legal and within reason, yes,” I clarify. Eyes narrowed on him, I add, “I’m not going to sleep with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
In the span of a few seconds, I watch an array of emotions wash over Alden’s face.
His dark, bushy brows furrow, a deep crease settling between them, before shooting up, wrinkling his forehead.
Pressing his lips together so tightly they blanch, he frowns and shakes his head.
“No, that is, in fact, not what I was getting at,” he mumbles, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat.
His whole face is a bright shade of red, and the vein in his forehead pops as he looks everywhere but at me.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man look even remotely flustered or uncomfortable, and if I weren’t so on edge and stressed out, I’d probably find it amusing.
“Hey, as a woman in our society, you never know,” I offer with a shrug.
Alden finally meets my gaze across the desk, his discomfort rolling off him in waves. “No, Georgia, I have never, nor will I ever, exchange property for sexual favors.”
“Okay, in that case, I’m listening.”
“My son,” is all he offers.
“What about him?”
“Next month, Fletcher will be moving to Blossom Beach to live with his mother for the foreseeable future.”
“He is? That’s news to me. Since when?” I ask, brows pinched. Then, shaking my head, I add, “Never mind. I’m gonna need you to quit saying everything so vaguely. What does Fletcher moving in with my dad and Denise have to do with me?”
There’s a brief pause, and then, “I’d like you to keep an eye on him.”
“Keep an eye on him?” I scoff. “He’s a grown-ass adult, and I’m not a babysitter.”
“I’m aware, Georgia. Thank you.” Alden huffs out a small chuckle. “I’m not asking you to babysit him. More like…” He gestures in front of him with his hands, like he’s trying to find the right words. “Keep him in line, make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
“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. But if I agree 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.”