Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(29)

"What is it?" she said again, her voice softer this time. "There's a coffee shop on the corner."

The idea of a destination seemed to cheer him. He nodded and they set  out. "I have to tell Jack something. Something awful. But I thought if I  started with you maybe you could … smooth the way."

Was he going to confess? Cassie stayed silent, having learned in her  years as a bartender that when people wanted to get something off their  chests, it was usually best to get out of their way. Cassie watched Carl  while the barista made their drinks. She assumed since he and Jack had  gone to university together, they were roughly the same age. But Carl  looked a decade older. Deep creases ran along the sides of his mouth,  and his complexion was ashen. He drummed his fingers on the bar. Once  seated at a small table in the back, he fidgeted and avoided looking her  in the eye. Still, it wasn't her job to make life easier for him.  Things might be weird with her and Jack, but that didn't mean she wasn't  firmly on Jack's side.

After a full minute of increasingly uncomfortable silence, Carl finally  managed to look at her. "I have a gambling problem. I've gambled away  Britney's college fund."

"Excuse me?" This was the polite version of what Cassie was thinking.

"She wants to go to art school, study photography. You've seen her  stuff-she's good. Could you imagine what she could do with some formal  training?

Cassie had to agree there. "Carl, I'm not sure why you're telling me this."

"It gets worse," he went on, ignoring her objection. "I … I stole from the  company, to try to win back what I lost. I told myself I was only  borrowing the money, that I'd win it back and more. But … "

"You lost it all." Cassie recognized some of the same rationalizations  from her years of back and forth with her mother. She'd come to learn  that people like Carl and her mother actually believed their own lies,  at least initially.

He slumped in his seat, looking nothing less than stricken. "I know it  doesn't make sense." He shook his head in disgust. "It sounds ridiculous  when I describe it."

Opposing emotions warred inside her. She wanted to berate him for  stealing from the man who'd made him-gave him a job that allowed him to  live in luxury, mentored his daughter. And he'd done it by taking  advantage of Jack's one weakness. But he looked so pathetic, so  miserable, that a tiny part of her felt bad for him.

"How much did you steal?"

He winced at the word steal, but if he thought she was going to  sugarcoat things, he was mistaken. Of course she knew the ballpark  answer, having reverse engineered his crimes, but she wanted to see if  he was still in denial.

"A lot. More than I can repay. I can only hope that Jack doesn't decide to press charges, which would be more than I deserve."

"You have to tell him."

"I know. I will. I plan to. I've already asked Seth to book a formal  meeting with him for the first day back. January second, I come clean."

Cassie started to say he should tell Jack sooner-now. He deserved the  truth. She began formulating an "If you don't tell him, I will" threat.

"I don't want to ruin his Christmas holiday," said Carl.

That stopped her in her tracks. He had a point. Not about the holiday so  much as about the Wexler trip, which of course Carl knew nothing about.  Jack didn't need any complications that would jeopardize the deal. And  though it was good that Carl was planning to come clean, dealing with  the outcome of the confession would be a huge upheaval. It was better  for the deal for Jack to stay angry and honed. So she would hold her  tongue. For now.

"All right, but if you don't tell him when the office reopens, I promise you, I will."

"I will. Thank you."

"You still haven't told me why you're telling me this." It was bugging  her. She hadn't done anything except be his involuntary confessor, and  now she was saddled with this knowledge she didn't want. "You just met  me."                       
       
           



       

Carl buried his face in his hands, and when he spoke his voice was  muffled. "I don't know. It's just that Jack has never had a girlfriend  who stuck before." Cassie winced at the word girlfriend. "I thought it  would be good if you knew ahead of time, so you could … help him when he  finds out. It's a big betrayal." Then he looked up. "That's not true.  Well, it is, but it's not the whole truth. I think the real reason I'm  telling you is because you're in college. God, the idea of you having to  work so much to pay for school." He raked his hands through his hair  and looked at the ceiling, as if seeking divine guidance. "That's what  I've condemned Britney to."

A sharp burst of anger animated Cassie's limbs, and she had to bite her  tongue to keep from saying something she would regret. Who did this jerk  think he was? She settled for saying, "My life isn't so bad, you know."  He was pulling some kind of psychological BS on her here. Like he  thought if he confessed to Cassie the College Student, she could somehow  absolve him for screwing his own daughter's future. Meanwhile, Cassie  Jack's Girlfriend was supposed to smooth the way for Carl to confess his  crime. Nope, all Cassie was going to do was keep his stupid secret long  enough for Jack to do a major deal behind his back.

Carl looked down at his drink, some kind of awful Christmas-themed thing  topped with a dollop of whipped cream dusted with red and green  sprinkles. "It being Christmas and all that, I just wanted to be honest  with someone."

A pit opened in Cassie's stomach. If he only knew. How ironic that there  were two people sitting at this table, and only one of them was being  honest-the compulsive gambler-slash-crook. Which left her-the liar.





Chapter Fourteen

By the time Jack picked up Cassie the next morning, he was in the zone.  She'd been right-they needed the time apart to clear their heads. Two  days from now, Wexler Construction would be his. He didn't care what he  had to do, he was going to win the company-and the island. He was now  fully focused on Wexler. There wasn't room for anything else.

Correction-maybe there was a little room. "Hi!" Cassie called as she  burst through the door of her building. She had on big Sorel boots and a  bright green parka with a fur-lined hood. How could she be so bundled  up and still be so hot? Anyway, nothing to do about it. It was perfectly  normal to admire an attractive woman like Cassie. It would be weird if  he didn't notice her. The trick was to appreciate her from afar, like he  would any other beautiful woman.

The trick was not to think about getting into her pants.

"Brr!" The temperature had plummeted overnight, and she did a little half-wiggle, half-hop as a gust of frigid wind hit them.

Yeah. So much for not thinking about getting into her pants.

"The car's all warmed up," he said, taking her suitcase and popping the trunk.

"Nice wheels!" she said as she settled into the front seat. "Ooh! And  seat warmers!" Another little wiggle as she ground her ass into the  heated leather.

God almighty, this was going to be a long trip.

"This is totally the kind of car you would drive," she said.

"What do you mean?" He glanced at her as he started the engine. She was stroking the leather seat.

"Aston Martin! Who drives an Aston Martin? But it's perfect-fast, refined, but not too showy. Very you."

He couldn't help but smile. He'd been worried this was going to be  awkward, an extension of the weirdness that accompanied last night's  parting, but it seemed they were going to glide into being friends with  no trouble at all. As long as he kept his hands to himself. "What kind  of car are you, then?"

"Ha! I'm a city bus! I wonder what that means?"

"Not literally how you get around, but what kind of car would you be?" he asked.

"Oh, man, I don't know. I'd like to be something classic but not boring."

"I got it. You're a VW Bug. One of the old ones. Timeless, but fun and quirky."

"Yes! A Slug Bug! But in a crazy color!"

"But of course," he agreed. "Lime green or something."

"I always wanted a Bug!" She clapped her hands with delight. "Okay. Trees."

He shot her a skeptical glance as he navigated onto the highway. "And  after we decide what kind of trees we are, will we hold hands and sing  Kumbaya?"

"You would be a birch tree," she said decisively. "Tall, straight,  strong, yet, with the white bark, apart from all the other trees."                       
       
           



       

The back of his throat tightened at the truth of the image she conjured.  "Okay, uh, you would be … " He ran through his admittedly limited mental  catalog of trees. "I think you'd have to be some kind of coniferous  tree."