Billionaires for Charity: Part Three (Menage Romance Serial) by Carnay Marie

Author:Carnay, Marie [Carnay, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

JAMES GULPED THE last of his scotch and set the glass on the desk. He’d been staring at his computer for hours. Watching. Waiting. Wondering when Templeton’s request to redeem would be processed. How many more minutes would he be able to claim the title, billionaire?

After Miranda had left them Saturday afternoon, they’d buckled down. Tried to find a way. Calling in every favor they’d ever earned. Giving Niles unlimited resources to track Templeton down. Using the full power of their assets while they still had them. But…nothing. They couldn’t locate their major investor and couldn’t get traction in the media. It was over.

So he’d fled to his house in the Hamptons. Closing himself in and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. No television. No phone. No internet. Nothing but his own spiraling thoughts and sense of impending doom. He’d never been powerless before and it wrecked him. By the time the night sky filled with stars, he’d been three-quarters of the way through a bottle of scotch and he didn’t stop drinking until he passed out Sunday night.

When the markets opened again, he’d finally dragged himself into his office to watch the train wreck unfold. But the whole day had passed without event. He checked his watch. Only an hour until markets close. Piss. He shoved back from the desk and stood, running his fingers through his hair and cursing to himself when the doorbell rang. What the…?

Jogging down the hall, he ran through the possibilities in his head. Ballsy reporter, most likely. Ready to capture the first photo of him penniless. He stopped in front of the door, threw it open, and blinked.

“Hello, James.”

“Mr. Templeton. Hello, sir.”

The older man smiled. “I’m sorry to be dropping by unannounced. Have I caught you at a bad time?”

The worst time of my life. “No.” James shook his head and stepped back. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you.” He walked past James and stopped in the entryway. “You have a lovely home. Did you build it yourself?”

James glanced up at the house he might not own in the morning. “I did. It took me five years. It’s my dream house.”

“Well, it shows.”

“Can I get you anything? A drink?” A change of heart?

“Scotch, neat. If you have it.”

“You’re lucky. I still have a bit left.” James motioned past an archway to the living room. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” He loped off to the bar while Templeton walked into his living room. Templeton is here. In my house. He pulled the bottle from the cabinet and shook his head. The man wouldn’t come by himself to rub it in. Would he? He poured two glasses and strode back into the living room. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Templeton took a sip and sighed. “Ah. Delicious. I’ve always loved Glenfiddich. Is this thirty year?”

“Forty.”

“Mmm. You have excellent taste.”

Fuck the small talk. James couldn’t take it another second. “Forgive me for asking, sir, but why are you here?”

Templeton pushed himself off the couch and walked over to the window overlooking the ocean.

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