Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(49)

When I come back down about ten minutes later, I hear them talking in the front room. Stopping in the kitchen, I listen in.

“I feel like such a fuck-up,” he mumbles.

“You’re not a fuck-up,” she replies. “You’re going through a rough patch. You have to live with your mom for a while, so what. It’s not forever. You’ll get back on your feet and everything will be fine.”

The comforting sound of her voice makes me smile.

“I lost my job, my place, you…” His voice trails, and I feel the hairs on my neck rise.

And it dawns on me in that moment—Charlotte means something to Beau. Whether they broke up or not, she means something to him. And quite possibly, he means something to her. How could I get in the middle of that? How could I have even done the things I already have?

“You didn’t lose me,” she replies softly. “We’re still friends, Beau.” Her voice is so low, they sound close together. There’s silence, clothes rustling, movement on the couch, and I wish I could stop myself from listening now.

“Give me another chance,” he mumbles, and I can’t stop myself. Making my steps loud, I walk out of the kitchen, going straight to my desk. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. Getting Charlotte back with Beau was what I wanted. It’s the whole reason I hired her. It’s what was going to make everything between me and Beau better, so why am I trying to stop it?

They scoot apart on the couch, and I glance up to see her face. She’s glaring at me, eyes wide with an expression of fear as if she’s been caught. And she’s trying to gauge my reaction.

“Sorry to interrupt. Let me get you that check.” Sitting down at my desk, I reach into the top drawer and pull out my checkbook. While I’m filling it out, Beau stands and walks over to me.

He’s positioned a foot or so away. When I glance up at him, I notice his eyes aren’t on me or the check, they’re on my desk. I follow his gaze and am suddenly filled with horror. The form Charlotte filled out is sitting face up on the desk, open to all of those filthy consent questions. Quickly, I grab it and flip it over, but I catch the way he tenses, his eyes narrowing with judgment. My son is disgusted by me. And at the moment, I can’t say I blame him.

Luckily, there’s no way for him to know it’s Charlotte who filled out that form.

“How much do you need?” I ask.

“My half was one thousand.”

My shoulders drop. “How much to get you through the next couple months, son?”

“I don’t need your money,” he snaps.

“I’m not giving it to you because you need it. I’m giving it to you because I want to.”

“Well, I don’t want it.”

“Beau…” Charlotte’s soft voice breaks through as she comes to stand next to him. “He’s just trying to help.”

I wince. The last thing I want is for her to take my side, no matter how good it feels. It will only drive him further away from me.

“He thinks he can pay for everything and that it will just solve all of our problems,” he says, staring coldly at my face.

“No, I don’t.”

Charlotte breaks in again, this time with a hand on his arm. “At least he’s trying. My dad hasn’t even spoken to me in months, let alone tried to help me or my family financially.”

Beau looks at her, and his expression softens. Come on, son. Do it for her.

“Fine,” he says.

I fill out the check for ten grand, and tell him to come back for more when he needs it. It feels like bait, but I don’t care. Anything that brings him back into my life. Even if he’s mad at me because of it.

Charlotte looks pleased for a moment as I hand him the check, so I don’t know why I say what comes out of my mouth next. Self-preservation, I guess.

“Why don’t you take Charlotte out for dinner?” I say, and her head snaps in my direction. “If she wants to, of course.”

Digging into my pocket, I find my wallet and pull out a hundred-dollar bill. Beau stares at Charlotte with hope in his eyes, but she’s still watching me.

I need Charlotte to no longer be an option. If she’s really with Beau, then I no longer have to resist the urge to have her for myself because the choice would be taken away.

I hate the way she’s staring at me right now, disappointment and anger and guilt all rolled into one.

“What do you say, babe? Want to grab some dinner with me?” He squeezes an arm around her waist, and I have to look away.

“Sure,” she replies softly, and it kills me.

After she gathers her things, she sends me a small wave goodbye, which is more than my own son can manage. I return her wave with a nod of my head. Watching her walk away with him is torture. But I’m doing this to myself for a good reason. Charlotte is not mine, no matter how much it feels like she is.





RULE #22: IF YOU WANT IT, TAKE IT.





Charlotte





“Maybe instead of going out, we can order in and go hang out at your place,” Beau says, as he puts his hand on my thigh while I drive. He had a friend drop him off at his dad’s, which makes me wonder if this was his plan all along. My skin is prickling just from his touch.

I can’t tell if Beau’s changed, I’ve changed, or the entire dynamic between us has. But there is no chemistry, no sparks or any kindling of what we had before. This guy I used to be so smitten over, who I let bring me down so low…can’t hurt me anymore.