Bottom Line: Callaghan Brothers, Book 8 Read online

  Bottom Line

  Callaghan Brothers, Volume 8

  Abbie Zanders

  Published by Abbie Zanders, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BOTTOM LINE

  First edition. May 28, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Abbie Zanders.

  Written by Abbie Zanders.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Bottom Line (Callaghan Brothers, #8)

  Before You Begin

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  A Note from Abbie

  More to Come...

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Also by Abbie Zanders

  Bottom Line

  Callaghan Brothers, Book 8

  Before You Begin

  WARNING: Due to frequent strong language and graphic scenes of a sexual nature, this book is intended for mature (21+) readers only.

  If these things offend you, then this book is not for you.

  If, however, you like your alphas a little rough around the edges and some serious heat in your romance, then by all means, read on...

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to Aubrey Rose Cover Designs for this amazing cover!

  Special thanks also go to some very special ladies – Deb B., Anjee Z., Shelly S., Carol T., Tonya B., Susan J., Perryne D., Carla S., Stacy T., and Shayne R. (and a few of you who prefer to remain unnamed – you know who you are) - for reading the first draft and making invaluable suggestions. This is a better story because of you!

  Chapter One

  Aidan watched from beneath half-shuttered lids as Kieran gathered his new wife into his arms and led her out of the ballroom. Christ. The way she looked at him! Even obviously exhausted, her face shone with the radiance of the sun.

  He didn’t know why it still affected him so much. It was a phenomenon he’d seen replayed time and time again over the last five or six years or so. All the Callaghan women looked at their men like that – like they’d hung the stars and the moon just for their pleasure.

  It wasn’t any different for the men, either. In their brides they found the soul-deep peace they longed for, the ones who completed them, who would always stand by their sides, without question, without condition. They called them their croies – their hearts - and believed that they had been created for them and them alone by God or Fate or Destiny or whatever controlled those kinds of things.

  Time, apparently, didn’t diminish the effect. Taryn and Jake, who had been together the longest, were closer now than they had been when Aidan first met them. And the others were just the same. Each year that passed strengthened their bonds, made them closer, stronger, unbreakable.

  Aidan had up close and personal seats to witness two such couplings – his best friend and business partner, Lexi Kattapoulos, had married into the family five years earlier. Her husband, Ian, was the very air she breathed.

  And Aidan’s own sister, Rebecca, who had spent more than ten years in the cesspools of the world helping the less fortunate via the International Red Cross and Catholic Relief Services, had wed the alpha of the clan, Kane Callaghan, only two years prior.

  Both of those women were strong-willed creatures, not at all likely to swoon or be swayed by things like the Callaghan genetics (which made them attractive to the fairer sex) or wealth (the bastards were not only big and good-looking they were smart and rich, too), so maybe this croie thing actually did have some basis in fact.

  Aidan grimaced at the uncomfortable ache in his chest. It wasn’t in his nature to be envious. At thirty-two, he was the CEO of the Celtic Goddess franchise, wealthy by even mogul standards. His mixed heritage gave him Greek god-like good looks – golden hair and skin, brown-gold eyes, and a natural smile that melted female hearts effortlessly. His keen intellect and business instincts had more than doubled his net worth in the last ten years. Everything he owned was top-shelf, from his designer clothes to his professionally decorated condo and customized Mercedes.

  Yet, despite all the wealth and prestige, a strange feeling coursed through his gut. He reluctantly recognized it for what it was: longing. A desire for something his family name, his looks, and his money had been unable to attain thus far: a woman who looked at him like that.

  No longer feeling in quite the party mood, Aidan slipped into the shadows and made his way up to his private office. No one would miss him; they were all wrapped up in their own little nirvanas.

  Oh, he thought with a ghost of a smile, Lex might wonder where he’d disappeared to. In an hour or two, he would probably receive a text asking him where he was, if he was okay, and berating him gently for leaving without saying goodbye. Lexi loved him, cared for him like a favorite brother, and he soaked in her affection like a dry sponge. But it would never be more than that. As close as they were, she belonged to Ian.

  Long before he knew about soul mates and croies, Aidan had considered asking Lexi to marry him eventually, a natural progression of their close relationship. He knew now that would have been a mistake. They could have been happy together, and Lexi wouldn’t have wanted for anything, but Aidan couldn’t give her what Ian had – that is, his very soul.

  He wasn’t even sure he had one to give.

  Pouring himself a drink from the twenty-year old bottle of Scotch, he glanced out his floor-to-ceiling windows, down into the sparkling valley. It was too idyllic, really. A veritable winter wonderland, with sparkling lights far below and the full moon bathing everything in a silvery glow. So pristine, so perfect. Like his hair, his clothes, his cars, his house.

  Yet for all its stunning beauty, it was still cold, painful if you touched it too long, and capable of sucking every last bit of warmth from you if you allowed it.

  Was there someone out there for him, hidden beneath all that perfection? Someone who would be his perfect mate in every way?

  He almost laughed. Not likely. To be more than just a blip on his radar, she would have to have a spotless past, one capable of standing up to the intense scrutiny of the watch dogs intent on keeping the Harrison name pure and scandal-free. She would have to be strong enough to share the great weight of his success as well as the benefits. Intelligence, wit, and a sense of humor were absolute musts. Aidan wanted a woman he could talk to and laugh with. He had more than enough attractive but essentially useless possessions; his wife would not be another.

  Those were the obvious things, of course, the things any man in his position would desire. In truth, he’d run across several prospects in the last few years that would have satisfied those requisites beautifully, and would have been quite happy for the opportunity to prove it.

  But it wasn’t enough. Aidan needed more than a trophy wife capable of standing up to public –and not so public - scrutiny. He needed a woman who could love him and want him in spite of his success, not because of it; a woman who could find happiness with him even if he suddenly decided to say “fuck it” and just walk away fro
m it all.

  Not that he would, of course. Aidan liked his excessive wealth, just as he liked the power and prestige that came with it. But unlike many of his peers who married for business or social reasons, he would not marry a woman who didn’t love him.

  A woman who wanted him for more than his bottom line.

  And therein lay the crux of his problem.

  He drained his glass and wondered, not for the first time, if the whole croie thing only applied to the full-blooded and ancient Irish Callaghan clan, or if anybody could dare hope for such a thing.

  His sister, Rebecca, believed there was someone out there for him, but he wasn’t so sure. Rebecca had more faith in her little finger than he had in his entire body. Maybe it was as simple as believing.

  He snorted softly. As if believing in anything was easy for him. He was a man who made his own path, was responsible for his own destiny. The very things that made him successful in life and in business – his drive, his need to control, his intelligence, his experience – also taught him to be wary and suspicious of everyone outside of an exclusive few.

  It was human nature. People could say what they wanted; they could spout clichés about money not buying happiness, but when it came right down to it, there were any number of people willing to do just about anything to get what he had. Women looked at him and immediately saw dollar signs flashing in front of their eyes, their minds conjuring a future of diamonds and furs and decadent luxury. And it would all be true, because if he ever did find a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he would give her everything.

  Unfortunately, most of the women he met were so blinded by his wealth and power that they looked right past him. Not the well-coiffed, designer-clad billionaire, but the man inside. Maybe, for a little while, he had to stop being Aidan Harrison, wealthy CEO playboy, and start simply being Aidan Harrison, the man.

  But how?

  One thing was certain, he wasn’t going to find the answer by standing alone in his opulent office drinking finely-aged Scotch. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. The perfect time to try something new.

  With a sigh, he locked up his private office. Instead of taking the main bank of elevators, he veered toward the right, preferring the less used employee-only stairwell. In his current state, he had no desire to run into any of the wedding guests or other revelers. He made his way down the ten flights, so caught up in his own thoughts it was almost a surprise when he found himself on the ground floor.

  Avoiding the main lobby, Aidan took a circuitous route toward the side entrance where a young valet waited patiently for the next guest to come his way. This location was considerably less busy than the main entrance, generally reserved for those who highly valued their privacy.

  “Jared, do me a favor?”

  The young man’s eyes grew big and he stood up a little straighter when he realized who it was who had called to him with such familiarity. Surprise became confusion, then worry.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on in the boy’s mind; clearly he was mentally backpedaling, trying to recall what (if anything) he might have done to garner the attention of the CEO.

  Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence.

  It saddened Aidan. Yes, he was the boss, but he wasn’t a tyrant. He knew the names of everyone who worked for him, whether world-renown chef or chambermaid, and he made it a point to treat them all with respect.

  “Anything, Mr. Harrison. Want me to bring your car around?”

  Aidan thought about the idea suddenly taking root in his mind and shook his head. It was impulsive and foolish on so many levels, really.

  It was also exactly what he needed. “What do you drive?”

  Jared blinked. “Sir?”

  Aidan smiled patiently. “What kind of car do you drive? You do have a car, don’t you?”

  “Um, yeah, sure. It’s a 2002 Honda.”

  Aidan grinned. Perfect. “How about a trade? Your Honda for my Benz?”

  “Sir?” Jared glanced around as if looking for hidden cameras. When he looked back at Aidan, he was more confused than ever. Either that, or he was convinced that Aidan had completely lost his marbles.

  “I’m not crazy, Jared, and it’s not a permanent trade,” Aidan assured him. He realized he was going to have to be more forthcoming if he wanted to move this along. “Let’s just say I just want to stay under the radar for a night or two, and my Benz will draw too much unwanted attention.”

  Aidan loved his GL63 AMG SUV, but men who wanted to appear like “regular guys” didn’t typically drive around in vehicles with a six-figured MSRP.

  “You’re not going to do anything illegal, are you, sir?” Jared asked, licking his lips nervously, but with a mischievous glint in his eye that told Aidan the kid might think more of him if he did.

  “Not in the plans, but who knows?” Aidan responded smoothly with a conspiratorial wink. “What do you say, Jared? Help me out?”

  It took a few moments for the clearly stunned valet to make up his mind (Aidan couldn’t help but wonder just what the kid was pondering), but then he grinned widely and reached into his pocket. The keys he withdrew had a well-worn leather tag etched with a bizarre symbol that looked vaguely familiar. Aidan recognized it as one Taryn Callaghan sported on a T-shirt occasionally.

  “You like DarkWing?”

  Jared’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Hell, yeah! You know them?”

  “Who doesn’t?” Aidan asked, though he would be hard-pressed to distinguish one of Taryn’s head-banging heavy metal bands from another.

  “That is so sick,” Jared beamed. Aidan realized he’d just achieved almost god-like status in the kid’s eyes. “My car’s in the employee lot, towards the back. Dark blue Accord.”

  “Thanks,” Aidan said, already walking away with the keys in his hand. “Enjoy the Benz.”

  “Uh, sir?”

  Aidan turned to look back at him and found the kid blushing six shades of red and looking nervous. “Since I’m working tonight, I’m taking my girl out tomorrow to celebrate, and ...”

  Aidan grinned, realizing the kid wanted to impress his girl by showing up in a hundred thousand dollar plus car. “Keep it till Sunday, yeah?”

  “Yes, sir! Thanks!” the young man beamed. “I’ll take good care of it!”

  If only his own funk could be lifted so easily, Aidan chuckled as he walked away.

  * * *

  Mary O’Rourke ordered her usual – a hot chocolate with Bailey’s and whipped cream – and sat back in the comfortable corner booth with her paperback. It was nice of Tommy to let her come here and take up space on a Friday night – and New Year’s Eve, no less - knowing he could make more money if she didn’t. The prime booth could easily seat four people who’d come out to drink and party and ring in the New Year, earning Tommy a bigger profit than Mary’s spiked hot chocolate and fried mozzarella sticks.

  She did this every year. It was a tradition she’d continued even after her husband’s untimely death. Cam had liked it here. He used to bartend on the weekends, something he continued to do as long as he could even after he’d been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer only weeks after their wedding.

  Sitting here, amidst the warmth and revelry but staying removed from it, she could remember a time when life held the hint of hope; when the New Year promised new beginnings. It seemed like so long ago. If she stared at the bar and let her eyes relax long enough, she could almost see Cam’s grin as he joked with the regulars sitting there, guys he’d known his whole life.

  But it was getting harder and harder to see him. Harder to remember as the details faded away with the passage of time. She wasn’t so young anymore – already past the thirty mark by more than a year, and it had been a long time since she’d felt even a hint of anticipation for what the New Year might bring.

  Tomorrow, sadly, was just another day.

  It wasn’t that she had a bad life; she did quite well, actuall
y. She had her own business – a small flower shop in town that she loved. A nice house, no mortgage, and a dependable car. And an entire town of people who knew her, knew what she’d been through, and went out of their way to be nice to her.

  Tommy was one of them. He was kind to Mary even now, but she knew that when he looked at her it brought back some of the grief. Cam had been his nephew, and Tommy, like so many others, had taken his illness and death hard. That was one of the many reasons she preferred to stay out of the way, out of their direct line of sight, especially during what was supposed to be a time of celebration.

  Five years. It had been five years ago to the day that Cam’s ravaged body had finally succumbed to the horrendous disease. As sad as it had been, it had been a relief, too, for he had battled a long five years before that.

  They’d only had a few weeks to enjoy being newlyweds before the awful discovery was made, and even that time had been shadowed by the warning signs – Cam’s sudden and unpredictable weak spells and his constant fatigue. Most of their honeymoon had been spent in the hotel (and not in the usual way) because Cam had thought he’d come down with some kind of flu.

  She sighed, hating herself for the wave of resentment she invariably felt when she allowed herself to think upon it too much. Why? was a question that had no answer, the same one millions of people looked heavenward and asked every day.

  Not one to wallow, she only allowed herself to take a dip in the self-pity once a year on the anniversary of his death. The feeling was accompanied by guilt, then immediately followed with shame. It wasn’t as if Cam wanted to get sick. He didn’t go out looking for cancer. He did everything right – he ate reasonably well, took care of his body, led an active and healthy lifestyle.

  It made no sense. It was grossly unfair. Nevertheless, it was.

  And while everyone around her smiled and laughed and danced, Mary silently hoped they were savoring every moment.