Forbidden Kiss (Carson Cove Scandals 1)

Earlier that day

“Mr. Benson? Don’t forget that you have the art show tonight.” My secretary, Cassie, knocked on my office door and pushed it open.

“The art show. Right.” I nodded and leaned back in my chair as a sigh rushed across my lips.

Fuck. That’s the last place I want to go today.

“You can buy me a Rembrandt to hang above my desk if you want.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

“No.” I narrowed my eyes and growled, which caused her to make a swift exit.

It was bad enough that an emergency at Benson Enterprises forced me to bring some of my staff in on a Saturday, but I wasn’t even going to be able to relax when I finally sent them home. I had to put in an appearance at Wellington’s to pretend like I nee

ded to see the stuff I planned to buy at the annual art auction. I already knew which pieces I was going to bring home with me—hell, I requested them from Mr. Wellington personally. The auction was just a formality so that everyone felt like they were getting a fair shot at them and avoid the perception of favoritism. I wasn’t his only client, and it was a good cause, so I didn’t mind overpaying since some of the proceeds were going to charity.

Mr. Wellington has been good to me, so I guess I can put a smile on my face for a few hours.

* * *

Several hours later

“Okay, everyone—listen up.” I walked out of my office and positioned myself so that everyone could see me. “We’re going to call it a day. I think we’re as caught up as we’re going to get on a Saturday. I’m sorry I took you away from your family on the weekend, but I’ll make sure you all get a bonus on your next check to make up for it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Benson.” An employee named Charles leaned forward in his chair and gave a nod.

“No, thank you.” I pointed at him and turned back towards my office.

“Do I get a bonus too?” Cassie looked up from her desk and tried to give me her best impression of puppy-dog eyes.

“I already pay you too much,” I growled under my breath. “Yes, you’ll get a bonus too.”

“Thank you.” Her face lit up with a huge smile.

“Yeah, yeah…” I shook my head and walked past her desk. “Why don’t you send me my schedule for next week before you go, so I can look over it.”

“Did something else come up?” Her voice echoed concern.

“I might want to move some stuff around.” I slammed my door and chuckled under my breath.

I should actually do it just to annoy the fuck out her…

I wasn’t really planning to move anything on my schedule—I just wanted to make sure I was prepared for Monday. Truthfully, I was just stalling for time. There was nothing wrong with being fashionably late to the art show if I could blame it on work. I couldn’t even claim a family emergency with all of my kids in college and my wedding band at the bottom of Carson Bay—where I threw it after the love of my life told me that she wanted a divorce. Half the people in Carson Cove had at least one divorce to go with the skeletons in their closet, but I thought my marriage was going to last—I didn’t even realize there was a problem until it was too late. I had to take my share of the blame once I heard why she was unhappy. I just wished she would have said something before she was ready to call it quits.

I can’t avoid the art show forever—I might as well head that way before fashionably late becomes disrespectfully absent.

Every social event in Carson Cove was an excuse for people with too much money to dress up, show off their latest arm candy, and vulgarize their wealth. I hated it. I tried to raise my kids to appreciate the friendships they made, regardless of social class, and do what they were passionate about instead of what was supposedly expected.

My youngest daughter, Victoria, seemed to get it, but she was the only one. My other two kids fell victim to temptation—and Carson Cove was full of them. It wasn’t like I could say anything. My wisdom came with experience. When I was their age, I didn’t know any better either—even though my father gave me the same speech I gave them and had to watch it bounce off my thick head.

Time to pretend I give a fuck about all of this.

My first stop when I walked into Wellington’s museum was the bar. If there was one benefit to attending the art show, it was the Scotch. Mr. Wellington knew what I liked and always made sure there was a bottle behind the bar with my name on it. I grabbed my first drink and said hello to a few people so that my presence would be noticed. After that, I started browsing the high-end pieces that were going to be auctioned.

I feigned indifference for the pieces that I planned to buy, and paid careful attention to the ones that I didn’t have any interest in—it was nothing more than a game—if I showed interest, others would wonder if they were missing out on something and that helped Mr. Wellington.

“You’re thinking about the Rembrandt?” Jon Alcott—one of my closest friends and a client I managed money for—walked up beside me.

“Yeah, it’s interesting.” I nodded. “I believe it is from his later years…”