Chapter 12 Unwelcome Surprises 

Charlotte sat on the couch, her mind spinning. She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at her. Who was upstairs? Charles had dismissed it casually, but her instincts screamed otherwise.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Charles said, leaning forward, fingers steepled together as if he had nothing in the world to hide.

Just then, there was a loud clatter from the staircase. Both their heads snapped toward the noise. A tall, blonde woman appeared, walking down completely naked, but with a G-string and a bra, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. 

“Baby,” the woman purred, flashing a flirty smile as she reached the bottom step, “you left me upstairs... again.” She paused mid-step when her gaze landed on Charlotte, sitting in the middle of the room, wide-eyed.

The woman’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. “Oh my God!” she screamed, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. “Who is this? Are we going to have visitors now?”

Charlotte’s face was impassive, but inside, she could feel her temper bubbling. , Of course. Another one of those girls. The kind Charles probably picked up like they were accessories, only to be discarded after one use.

Charles, completely unfazed, waved his hand dismissively. “Chelsea, we’re done for the day. I have a business to discuss with my PA.”

Chelsea huffed, pouting. “Fine. But next time, don’t leave me waiting.” With that, she sauntered back up the stairs, swaying her hips exaggeratedly, giving Charlotte one last look as if she’d won some kind of twisted competition.

Charlotte held her jaw tight, resisting the urge to say something. The guy I was falling for is just another playboy. She thought back to all those fleeting moments where she felt a connection, where his charm had wrapped around her like a web. But now, seeing this... her heart sank. He changes girls like toothbrushes.

Charles exhaled loudly once Chelsea had left, turning his attention back to Charlotte as if nothing had just happened. “So, where were we?”

Charlotte blinked, still reeling from the encounter. “We have projects to complete at the office for the company,” she said, her voice colder than she intended. “Mr. Maxwell is eager to meet with you.”

“Maxwell?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “What time is the meeting?”

“8:00 p.m. tonight.”

Charles leaned back, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “And what does Maxwell want?”

“I asked Mason to dig into it. He suspects Maxwell wants to partner with your father’s company, but I think something’s off.”

Charles frowned, his gaze sharpening. “Why?”

“If he wants to partner with your dad, why is he coming to you instead of directly approaching him? He knows your father’s reputation—brilliant, shrewd, not easily fooled.”

Charles nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re not wrong.” He stood, heading toward his bedroom. “I’ll get ready for the meeting. I’m starting to think Maxwell might be trying to use me to get to my dad.”

As Charles disappeared into his room to change, Charlotte sat back on the couch, her thoughts racing. *How did I end up in the middle of this?* 

Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Eleven Madison Park, the air in the car heavy with unspoken tension. Charlotte couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Maybe it was Maxwell. Maybe it was Chelsea’s sudden appearance, like a cold splash of reality. Whatever it was, her nerves were on edge.

At the Restaurant

The soft glow of the restaurant’s ambient lighting did little to soothe Charlotte’s anxiety. They were seated at a table in the center of the room, and the waiters moved seamlessly, their voices low and polite as they brought coffee to the table. Mr. Maxwell was already there, a smug smile plastered on his face as Charles made the introductions.

“Maxwell,” Charles greeted, shaking his hand. “This is my new PA.”

Maxwell nodded, but Charlotte noticed his eyes linger on her for a second too long. She shivered and quickly looked away.

The conversation kicked off with a small talk, Charles expertly guiding it toward the real business. But as they discussed the upcoming projects, Charlotte’s mind wandered. Her eyes drifted towards the restrooms, positioned conveniently opposite the table. Her stomach twisted. 

*Oh no. Not now,* she thought, squeezing her legs together. She had been disguising herself as a man for weeks, but now, sitting directly across from both a male and a female restroom, the pressure was too much. *I should hold it till we get home,* she told herself, but the urgency was building.

After a moment, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Excuse me,” she muttered, rising from her seat, heart pounding. 

She headed to the male restroom—What choice do I have?—keeping her head down as she pushed through the door. It was worse than she imagined. The sight of men casually peeing made her stomach turn, but she steeled herself, rushing to one of the stalls.

Once done, she darted back to the sink, washing her hands hurriedly, when the door creaked open. She froze.

Charles

Charles watched Mr. Maxwell, his suspicion growing by the second. Something about the man felt wrong. His smile was too slick, his responses too calculated. He wasn’t here to simply “partner” with the family business. He had other intentions.

Midway through the conversation, Maxwell’s gaze shifted behind Charles, and the man's smile faltered. “Uh—” he stammered, his eyes bulging.

Charles turned just in time to see it. Mason—no, Charlotte, in her awkward disguise—came stumbling out of the restroom, her expression horrified as she collided with a waiter carrying a tray of steaming hot coffee.

The next few moments were a blur. Charlotte crashed into the waiter, sending the coffee flying—right onto Mr. Maxwell’s pristine white suit. The man jumped up, yelping in pain as the hot liquid soaked through his clothes, his face twisted in disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Charlotte gasped, mortified. “I’m so sorry!”

Maxwell turned to Charles, Furiously. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Before Charles could respond, the restaurant manager appeared, apologizing profusely and offering Maxwell a free meal to calm him down. But Maxwell wasn’t having it. He shot Charles a look so cold it could have frozen fire.

Charles leaned over, his voice low but steady. “Maxwell, we’re done here.”

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. “You’ll regret this, Goldberg.”

And with that, Maxwell stormed out of the restaurant, his wetsuit leaving a trail of angry footprints behind.

Charles sat back, rubbing his temples as Charlotte slid into her seat, face burning with embarrassment. “That… could’ve gone better,” she mumbled.

He sighed, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I think you just saved me from making a terrible deal.”

As they prepared to leave, Charlotte still reeling from the disaster, a shadow appeared at the entrance. It was a man, tall and imposing, his face obscured by the dim lighting. He was watching them closely, his eyes fixed on Charles.

“Who is that?” Charlotte whispered, nudging Charles.

He glanced up, his face hardening. “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

And b

Before Charlotte could stop him, Charles was already heading straight toward the stranger.