The Worst Best Man(113)

She high-fived them down the line and handed over Aiden’s gift card. Christian shoved an appointment card at her. “See you in six weeks.”

“I’ll be here,” she said decisively. Positive mental attitude. She would win. Or she’d be curled in the fetal position being eaten by cats.

“Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” they chorused after her as she strode out the door and into battle.

He was already there waiting for her at the bar. A double of something in front of him despite the fact that it was barely 11 in the morning.

“Good morning, Elliot,” she said, sliding onto the stool next to him.

The younger Kilbourn straightened in his seat, leering at her cleavage. “I had a feeling I’d be hearing from you again. What can I do for you? Help you get revenge on brother dearest?” He straightened his tie.

“Oooh. I’m afraid you’re about to be very disappointed,” Frankie said, unpacking a file from her bag. She slid it across to him. “Here. This is for you.”

With still too much confidence, Elliot flipped open the folder. It took a full four seconds for its contents to sink in. His eyes widened, pupils dilating. “What is this?” he demanded.

“This is every dirty deed I could dig up on you over the past ten years. I don’t know what Boris Donaldson has on you, but I’m willing to bet it’s somewhere in this file.”

“How do you know about Boris?” he asked, scrambling through the photos, the photocopies, and the interviews.

“You pushed for him for CFO despite the fact that he’s currently under investigation for fraud and, as of about ten minutes ago, embezzlement.”

“What?” He reached for his drink and drank it down.

“Well, what kind of investigation would I be doing if I didn’t pry into my boyfriend’s enemies? You people will never understand that your underlings see and hear things that your dirty money can’t cover up. By the way, the SEC’s anonymous tip website is so easy to navigate. Now, let’s talk about you.”

He was flipping through papers alternately going beet red and ashen.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy. Using your expense account to pay for prescription drugs and lap dances. Side note, they’re not actually into you. Then there’s these sticky consent cases that you paid off. Anything other than a yes is a no, Elliot. All of that I almost expected from you. But what even I was surprised by was you bringing a male prostitute back to your then-girlfriend’s apartment and—”

He slapped the bar. “She signed a non-disclosure agreement! I paid her!”

“Oh, sweetie,” Frankie said, laying on the phony sympathy. “She signed a non-disclosure, but her doorman and housekeeper and personal chef didn’t.”

He swore. “I’ll sue. I’ll sue you for defamation.”

“Then Chip will press charges for abducting him. That’s a felony, by the way. And I don’t think your defense is going to be able to come up with any character witnesses for you. Not with all of this in your history,” she said, tapping the file.

He picked up the file and ripped it in half.

Frankie sighed. “Is this a temper tantrum? Because you know I have copies of copies of copies.”

He braced his elbows on the bar and put his face in his hands. She didn’t feel the tiniest bit of guilt.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m glad you asked. It’s very simple. I want you to leave Aiden alone. Permanently. You don’t have a blackmailer to pay off anymore. You’re welcome, by the way. So, you can have a fresh start. Step down from the company, stop acting like a fuck-up, and don’t so much as glance in Aiden’s direction except for the occasional uncomfortable family dinner. Got it?”

“If I do what you want, what will you do with this?” he asked, pointing at the shredded paper.

“I’m going to hang on to it, very quietly. But if you step a fucking toe out of line if you take advantage of one more woman or buy one more bottle of pills, I’ll know. And I’ll go to every gossip blogger and society journalist in the country with this dirty little packet. Imagine what your mother would think. Or worse, your father. You’re at my mercy. And with the SEC taking out your blackmail buddy, you basically just won the lottery today. Don’t fuck it up.”

She slid off her stool and straightened her dress.

“Do we have a deal?” she asked.

He nodded glumly.

“Good. Now, there’s just one more thing.” She picked up his drink and tossed it in his face. “That’s for every one of these women. Be better from now on.”





Chapter Sixty-One


“Your one o’clock is here,” Oscar announced, poking his head in Aiden’s office doorway.

“My what?” Aiden looked at his open calendar on his monitor. Who the hell was he supposed to—

She walked in wearing the red dress that haunted his dreams.

Aiden wasn’t even aware that he’d risen from his desk so suddenly that his chair went spinning behind him.

“Franchesca?”

Had he finally lost his damn mind? Was he missing her so much he was now hallucinating her instead of catching the ghost of her scent, the echo of her laughter?