A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5) Page 2

  “According to my contract you cannot reduce my hours to less than twenty- hours a week.”

  “I can do whatever I damn well please,” he argued. “It isn’t so easy to get your way without Nicholas here to protect you, is it?”

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. “Nicholas’ protection exceeds his presence,” she said. “And his influence at this magazine still stands. All you have is his title, nothing more. And eventually you won’t even have that,” she shrugged. “You are irrelevant.”

  Dean’s answering smile was spiteful. “Perhaps, one day will not suffice. Your services will not be needed tomorrow neither.”

  Nodding her head knowingly, Charlotte turned on her heels and walked in the direction of the elevators. Offering her colleagues a kind smile, she politely excused herself as she made her way through the crowded pathway.

  “Oh, and Charlotte, give Nicholas my warmest regards . . . you can do that for me, can’t you? After all, you two are involved, are you not?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Apparently, not all rumors are fabrications.”

  Stopping cold, Charlotte turned to face the vile man once more. “My husband would not welcome anything from you, least of all your regards− however warm you claim them to be,” she said, and then without another word she made her way to the elevators, taking no heed to the whispered babbling that her confession of her marriage to Nicholas had ignited. Don’t get too comfortable Dean, she thought, as she boarded the elevator. The same sword you’ve pointed at Nicholas, at me, is going to be the same one you fall on. It’s only a matter of time.

  Chapter Two

  The two unpaid days Dean had forced upon Charlotte turned out to be beyond relaxing, and while she could not afford the punishment, she appreciated the downtime away from Gizzelle. It was amazing how quickly the atmosphere of the magazine had changed in Nicholas’ absence. The atmosphere, the camaraderie . . . even the air seemed thick with change.

  Charlotte walked into Milton’s Bar & Grill, her big brown eyes immediately scanning the dimly lit establishment for Nicholas. Stealing a quick glance at her watch, she frowned. It was noon on a Friday, he should have been there . . . at their table, eating his favorite crab pretzel and slowly sipping on Milton’s draft. Does he not come here anymore? Charlotte wondered. Did he stop coming to avoid seeing me?

  “Well! Hey there, cutie pie,” Hendrix, the head bartender called from behind the bar. “It’s been a while.”

  Charlotte offered the older, tattooed man a warm smile as she made her way over to him. Sitting at the bar stool directly across from where Hendrix stood hand drying shot glasses, she reached for a menu. “How’s it going Heni?” she asked, her eyes absently skimming over the lunch specials.

  “I can’t complain.” Hendrix filled a large glass with water and placed it in front of her. “Got a lot on your mind?” he asked.

  Charlotte glanced up, briefly meeting the man’s bright blue gaze. “I’m sorry?” she frowned, knitting her perfectly arched brows.

  “You know that menu better than I do,” he said with a shrug of his muscular shoulders. “You’re going to have ten bone in, honey Old Bay wings with a side order of fries.”

  “You know me well,” she smiled sweetly. “Can I have a glass of Merlot while I wait?”

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

  Turning away from him, Charlotte continued her scan of the bar’s dining area. It was a useless act, of that she was certain, still, that didn’t stop her eyes from searching, from hoping. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Nicholas since the day after their wedding reception, one week ago. The night of the reception was indeed eventful. Not only had she learned along with hundreds of others that Nicholas would be returning to his family’s enterprise, Plotus Cosmetics, but her father- in- law, Spencer Elliot, had made his true feelings about her and her union with his son, crystal clear. Offering her a bribe of five- million dollars to ensure that she had zero rights to her unborn children, and then demanding that she sign a prenup had made the evening unforgettable. It was a memory that would no doubt be etched into her brain for all time. Though, those weren’t the only details that would be engraved in her mind from that night. After weeks of not being intimate, of not seeing one another, of barely communicating− they had given into the fire that naturally burned between them. A fire so hot she couldn’t put it out even if she tried to, and after weeks of not feeling his hard body against hers, of not tasting the sweetness of his kiss, she didn’t want to.

  Since their separation, two months prior, Charlotte had made every effort to keep her distance from Nicholas. And if truth be told, staying away from him was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. How did one keep away from their best friend without falling apart? Truly, it had been a woeful two months . . . a miserable, dismal period of her life. And while she had managed to make it through such a difficult time, if truth be told she was not the same woman she had been before finding out about Nicholas’ betrayal. Her heart felt broken beyond repair . . . fragmented pieces that would never quite fit together again . . . shards too impossible to put back together. Yet, she missed him.

  Charlotte missed Nicholas with every part of her being and that reality scared her, made her feel weak. And more than anything she detested the thought of being weak, not when she had fought for so many years to be strong. And that’s why you pushed him away. The day after the reception you pushed him away because making love to him made the reality of your missing him, needing him, too real.

  “Here you go, beautiful,” Hendrix said, interrupting her thoughts. Placing an oversized wine glass on the bar, he reached under the counter for an unopened bottle of Merlot. “You just missed him,” he told Charlotte before placing the bottle in front of her. “Nicky-Boy. He left about an hour ago . . . with a man and two women. He’s been here every day this week− nearly every night, too. Him, the man . . . and the two women.”

  Charlotte grimaced. Her heart did several somersaults before falling into her stomach. “A man and two women?” she repeated for clarification sake, though she heard him perfectly. Her voice was low, cracked.

  “Just before they left today, I overheard them talking about going up to New England for the weekend. Now, I’m not one to gossip, never been one to gossip,” he sighed. “But− yous two are good together. I’ve known Nick for many years, a few years before I had the pleasure of meeting you . . . and he’s calmed down since you’ve come into his life. You balance him out.” Shaking his head, Hendrix forced himself to continue, “Now, I know it’s not my place to be telling you any of this and that whatever it is yous two are going through is none of my business, but I think you should give Nicky- Boy a call.”

  Biting down on her lower lip, Charlotte fought to keep from crying. He went away with another woman . . . Blithe? Did I make him wait too long?

  “Alright, I’ve said my peace now enjoy your Merlot, it’s on me,” Hendrix said, gently tapping the bar with the side of his thumb. “I’ve missed that pretty face of yours over the past few weeks, so stop by every now and then.”

  Charlotte nodded her head, but remained silent. How could she possibly speak after having her world crushed for what felt like the millionth time? He’s with another woman, she cried inwardly, truly feeling devastated.

  Chapter Three

  Lying in her too large bed surrounded by too many useless throw pillows, and a comforter too heavy for the season, Charlotte quietly stared out into the dark nothingness of the room. Her chest felt heavy and her cheeks were raw from the continuous flow of tears that hadn’t ceased from falling since she’d left Milton’s, hours earlier. Her mind drifted back to a week before when she’d found Nicholas in her apartment. I was so mean to him. Why did I let him leave? Why did I have to push him away? Charlotte silently chastised herself. Wiping viciously at her eyes, she gave into the noiseless heaves that overtook her small frame. Shudder after shudder rocked her aching body, but the pain could not compete with the dull ache in her chest.


  Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a calming breath. If only she could swallow her grief . . . if only she could force her mind to stop racing. In that moment, her thoughts were her worst enemy and she was losing the fight with them− a timeless battle for peace of mind. “Sleep, Charli,” she whispered through painful sobs. “Sleep.”

  Charlotte sat silently at her parents’ large dining room table across from her younger sister, Marguerite, patiently waiting for Thanksgiving dinner to be served. Spending time with her family during the holiday season had always been important to her. Creating memories and bonding over food had been a sentiment she had cherished since her youth. Being the eldest of three daughters allotted her many privileges in the Toutant family, many privileges that indeed gave her great satisfaction. To be the first child served at dinner, to be the only daughter blessed with the responsibility of cutting her mother’s well-loved braided bread, a delicacy reserved for the holiday season, alone. To be the first one to receive a praline from her father after the dinner table was cleared and mint tea was served . . . every tradition, every custom that had been engrained into her from the time she was a child had become a pivotal part of her design. These short- lived moments meant everything to Charlotte, as they were hours, minutes, seconds that she would always remember, but never be allowed to relive again. Absent- mindedly, Charlotte ran her fingertips along the edge of the cream tablecloth, purposefully creating wrinkles in the thin fabric as she waited for her youngest sister, Adeline and her father, Manuel to make their way to the dining room.

  “Charli, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Babet Toutant complained as she placed the fried turkey in the center of the table. “I’ve completely outdone myself this year.” Her thin lips stretched into a smile that didn’t quite reach her almond brown eyes. Staring down at the multitude of food in front of her, she shook her head, genuinely feeling pleased with herself before taking a seat at the head of the table. “Alright, who wants to say grace?”

  Charlotte frowned at her mother. “Shouldn’t we wait for dad and Adeline?”

  Babet froze in her chair, her once soft expression now hardened. “Why would you ask that?” she demanded, her tone sharp. “Why would you joke around about something like that?”

  Charlotte’s frown deepened. “Joke around about what? Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

  Marguerite cleared her throat uncomfortably, seizing her sister’s attention. Shaking her head, she mouthed, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t? Don’t what?” Charlotte asked, perplexed. “Where is dad and Adeline . . . is this some kind of inside joke that I’ve missed?”

  “Enough!” Babet screamed, completely beside herself. “Charlotte, I’ve had enough. Going into another holiday season without . . . without your father and sister is hard enough without you mocking their memory.”

  “Their memory?” Charlotte repeated. “What do you mean by their memory?”

  Slamming her small shaking hands onto the table Babet rose from her seat. “At times you can be very cruel, Charlotte,” she said. Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears that were threatening to fall at any second. Several moments passed before she got a hold of her emotions and opened her eyes once more. Quietly, she stood there, unmoving, while her daughters looked on with great concern. “Sorry,” she murmured when she finally spoke again. “I seem to have lost my appetite. You two enjoy dinner.”

  Marguerite waited until their mother was no longer in the room before she spoke. “Why would you do that?” she chastised.

  “Do what?” Charlotte scoffed, indignantly. “What exactly did I do?”

  “Mentioning Adeline and dad like that. You had to have known it would be too much for mom . . . that it would make her upset. Are you that insensitive? Every day has been a struggle for mom since they’ve passed away . . . you −”

  “What?” Charlotte gasped painfully. “What did you just say?”

  Marguerite stared at Charlotte for a long moment, confusion overtaking her beautiful features. “Why are you doing this? Why are you pretending like you don’t know?”

  When Charlotte didn’t respond, Marguerite shook her head. “You could barely make it through the funeral . . . if Todd hadn’t been there to comfort you−”

  “What? Why would Todd comfort me. Where was Nicholas?”

  “Nicholas?”

  “Yes, Nicholas. My husband, Nicholas. Why would Todd comfort me when he’s with you . . . Nicholas−”

  “Charli! Stop it. I don’t understand what game you’re playing, or why you’re even taking it this far, but enough is enough.”

  Charlotte brought her hands to her face, and caressing her temples with shaking fingers she let out a painful wail. “Marguerite. Where is dad and Adeline?”

  Swallowing her frustration, Marguerite exhaled deeply. “Dad and Adeline were in a car accident back in August. A drunk driver sped through a stop sign and hit them from the passenger side . . . they died on impact.”

  Charlotte opened her eyes and was instantly greeted by the blackness of the room. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Inhaling deeply, she blinked rapidly, attempting to adjust her vision to the darkness. It was just a dream, she thought. Swallowing the fear that jolted her awake, she whispered, “Only a dream.” Speaking the words did not suffice, nor did hearing them aloud.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, and then opening them once more, Charlotte slowly exhaled. “A dream,” she repeated. Unable to press down the panic that was threatening to consume her, she anxiously felt around for her Blackberry, only breathing a sigh of relief when the device was against her face and the sound of ringing was loud in her ear.

  “Adeline!” she cried into the phone when the line finally picked up. “Adeline. Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Are you okay?” her youngest sister asked.

  “I had a nightmare . . . you and dad were in a car accident . . . and it was Thanksgiving and I had no idea that you had died, I didn’t know that you and dad were gone,” she rambled into the phone between sobs.

  “It was just a dream, Charli. Dad and I are fine,” Adeline assured her. “Don’t be sad.”

  “It felt so real.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Charlotte sighed, feeling foolish for calling the younger girl in the middle of the night. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  Adeline giggled sweetly. “You didn’t wake me up. I’m out with friends.”

  “Out with friends? At this late hour? Does mom and dad know?”

  “Late hour?” Adeline repeated, laughter heavy in her voice. “Geez, Charli. You’re turning into an old woman. It’s only quarter to nine and it’s Friday for crying out loud.”

  Charlotte stole a quick glance at her alarm clock. 8:45 p.m. Groaning into the phone, she said, “I am turning into an old woman. I didn’t know it was so early.”

  “Where’s Nicholas?” Adeline asked.

  Lying to her sister was the last thing Charlotte wanted to do; however, telling the younger girl the truth about her marital problems and admitting that she and Nicholas were separated was not an option. “He’s out.”

  “And you didn’t want to go with him?”

  “No, I wanted to stay in tonight . . . it’s been a long week,” she lied miserably. “Adie, I’m going to let you go, okay? I’ll call you again soon.”

  “Wait! Charli, wait! Don’t hang up,” the younger girl screamed into the phone. “Mom said she sent you a text message about my graduation . . . but that doesn’t mean you’ll actually show up. Promise me that you’ll be there.”

  “Adie, work is really hectic right now, and−”

  “Nope,” Adeline interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. No excuses. Promise me, Charli.”

  Charlotte silently contemplated what a trip to Baltimore without a car entailed. The travel costs alone made her inwardly cringe. Being the editor at the blossoming bridal magazine Gizzelle Bridal had spoiled both her fancies and her bank account. For years, Charlotte
had happily forgotten the struggle of what living from check to check felt like. Since moving to New York two years earlier her finances had grown astronomically, thanks to Nicholas and his belief in her capabilities. It was a good couple of years, she thought. But that was now in the past.

  Since being demoted to Dean’s part time secretary, Charlotte continuously stressed over the thought of spending money. Wisely budgeting her paychecks was non- negotiable, and it was a hard fact she had to grow accustomed to if she planned on maintaining a comfortable lifestyle. Especially if she had intended to keep her too small, well overpriced apartment in West Manhattan, that had overtime begun to feel like home. Her tiny dwelling had become a place that she had grown to love. She felt comfortable and safe there− and so, losing it was not an option.

  “Hello? Charli? Are you there?” Adeline groaned into the phone, interrupting her sister’s thoughts.

  “I’m here,” Charlotte answered. “And I’ll be at your graduation. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . just be careful and get home by curfew, so that mom won’t worry about you.”

  “Okay, Charli,” Adeline agreed, her tone blissful. “Talk to you soon. Have a good night.”

  Tossing her Blackberry to the mattress, Charlotte laid back down and heaved a sigh of frustration. How is it not even 9 o’ clock? Glancing at the alarm clock once more, she whined, “I have no life.” Irritated, she pulled her comforter over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that sleep would return to her quickly.

  Sitting at her parents dining room table, Charlotte stared at her younger sister, Marguerite in deep contemplation. It amazed her, how comfortable it felt to sit across from the other woman. After discovering Marguerite’s treacherous nature, it felt like her world would never be mended, could never be mended. As if the heartbreak of uncovering the truth about her sister’s affair with her fiancé, Todd Adams wasn’t enough, but to learn that her parents had known about the infidelity . . . at the time it seemed simply impossible to recover from, that is, until she met Nicholas. Nicholas had been heaven sent− a safe- haven in the midst of her battle with loneliness. With him by her side, nothing seemed impossible− not even the ability to forgive her sister for the chaos she had caused. In the two years she had lived in New York after abruptly leaving Baltimore− following her family’s disloyalty, she had finally found peace. Peace with Nicholas. Nicholas was her gift from God, and she missed him terribly. Being COO of Plotus Cosmetics and the Chief Director of Expansion for the European strategy team, Nicholas had very little time for himself, let alone for her. To say he had been busy over the past few months was an understatement, he was drowning in the sea of demands placed on him, and over the past several months their marriage had relied heavily on unfulfilling video chats and a multitude of short phone calls. Still, with even that being their reality she felt lucky to have him.