Page 73 of The Billionaire's Promise

"What's going on, Charlie?" I demanded.

None of this made sense. Charlie didn't need a place to live. She had a whole suite at Winters House, with a cook and a housekeeper and Aiden to keep an eye on her. She didn't need this place. And she didn't know anything about construction or renovations.

"Why would you buy a heap like this?"

"I'm moving in. I'm going to live here," she said.

"What do you mean, you're going to live here?" I asked. I may have shouted. Rosie squirmed against me. I kissed her temple and said, "Does Aiden know?"

Charlotte looked at Magnolia, guilt all over her face. "Not yet. I wanted to see what you said first."

I understood immediately. I was protective of Charlie. We all were. She was the baby of the family. But I was still way more laid back than Aiden. He was going to go ballistic. I shook my head.

"You'd better show us around."

Magnolia and I followed as she led us through the house. The floor was sound, but the brick and tile on the fireplaces had been stripped. The woodwork was fantastic, original and perfectly done, except some moron had painted it in thick layers that would have to be carefully stripped. If Charlie put in the time and money, the house would be amazing.

It was going to be a lot of time and a ton of money. Charlie had the money. Not family money, but her own. She'd been working for Winters Inc. since she was eighteen, part-time all through college, and she had done her MBA while working for the company full-time. She was a vice president at twenty-three, and as far as I knew, she'd spent very little of her salary.

She lived at Winters House, and there was no way Aiden would let her pay rent. She never took vacations. She drove a ten-year-old Audi Aiden gave her at sixteen when he'd upgraded to a newer model. If she'd been banking her salary all these years, it wasn't a stretch to imagine she had a small fortune in cash socked away. But why would she blow it all on a money pit like this place?

"Lay it out for me," I asked after a quick swing through the second level. "What does it need? Other than new plumbing and a new roof?"

Charlotte wasn't easily intimidated, especially by her family. She met my glare and said, evenly, "All the woodwork needs to be restored. The floors need to be refinished. The kitchen and bathrooms are a gut. The upstairs needs to be redone. It has seven bedrooms, including the attic, but only one bath and no master. I want to turn three of the bedrooms into a master suite and add another bath."

"That's all?" I asked, not trying to hide my sarcasm.

"No," Charlotte said evenly. "There are other issues, but those are the big ones."

"And when are you going to do all this work?" I asked. "Honey, you work seventy-hour weeks. Do you have a contractor? Please don't tell me you think you're going to do the work yourself."

"I'm figuring that out," she muttered, breaking eye contact, her gaze sweeping over the foyer of her disaster of a house. There was a light in her ocean blue eyes I hadn't seen in years. Longing and excitement.

Shit. I didn't like this plan of hers for so many reasons. But if it was going to bring life back to Charlie, maybe even drag her out of the prison she'd made of her job, I was all for it.

"Magnolia and I are taking it easy right now. If you need a little help lining up work, let me know," I said. Charlie's face lit with a smile. Yep, I'd do a lot to see my baby cousin look happy. I wish I could remember the last time I saw her smile like that.

Losing Aunt Olivia and Uncle Hugh had changed us all. Some of us, like Gage, Annalise, and me, had extreme reactions—me with my drinking, Gage joining the army and disappearing overnight, and Annalise taking off to roam the country with her camera.

We'd been the showboats in our grief. Charlie had just dried up and shut down. The vibrant, off-beat, funny, irreverent girl she'd been had faded away, and she'd become the Charlotte we knew now. Perfect in every way, but not quite Charlie. I missed her. We all did.

"Do you want me to talk to Aiden for you?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I'll tell him. Just give me some time. I don't want to say anything until we get the new nurse hired and Aunt Amelia settled. And I have some work to do here before I can move in."

"Plumbing first?" Magnolia asked. Charlie nodded. "I'll get you the number of the guy we’re using on the carriage house. He can at least get you a working bathroom while you figure out what to do with the upstairs."

Charlotte started to answer, but the roar of a lawnmower outside the window had her swinging her head around. Magnolia let out a giggle and strode to the window. Her hands on her hips, she gave a low hum of appreciation.

"Charlie," she hissed, as if whoever was outside the window could hear. "Come here."

Charlie did, joining Magnolia at the window. A faint blush rose on her cheeks as she stared at the neighboring backyard, and she bit her lower lip.

What the fuck?

I joined them just in time to see a giant of a man, every inch of him muscle and ink, pushing a lawnmower. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but at this distance, I couldn't place his face.

God damnit. Why was nothing ever easy? "Stop ogling your neighbor, Charlotte," I said. Her clear blue eyes slid to meet mine, a flash of embarrassment in them before she and Magnolia dissolved into giggles.