Charming Mr Carrington (The Obsidian #4)

CHAPTER ONE

GEMMA

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“Well, Ms. Ford, I’m afraid that decision is not up to you. Obsidian Capital now owns your business,” Drew Carrington snaps at me over the phone. “So, unless you want to be in breach of the terms of our fucking contract, I will see your ass in my office on Monday morning.”

I stare at the phone as it goes dead.

What the hell?

He did not just hang up on me, did he?

Yes. He did.

Despite the shocked expression on my face, I’m not surprised. Drew Carrington is a cold-hearted, inflexible asshole. It’s what he’s known for in the business world, but what can I do? I chose to sell to him.

He’s right, I am obligated to show up on Monday, but when I heard rumors that he was going to shut down some of the branches of my former company, taking jobs, I hit the roof.

That was not the deal we made.

Was it the deal we made? The contract was so thick, I could use it as a doorstop, and his lawyers confused me.

I’m so out of my depth here.

I pace the polished wood floors of my penthouse, ignoring the views of Manhattan below, and curse his name while simultaneously questioning myself.

I should never have been thrust into this position. Never. I was supposed to raise our daughter and let Anthony run the family business. But oh no, he had to go and die on me.

Sorry, darling, I don’t mean that. I glance upward and grimace.

God, I’m a horrible person.

I glance at the roaring fire, thinking so hard my brain hurts. Didn’t the contract protect the company from being torn apart?

I spin around, stride across the room, and head down the hall.

“Gemma, take your shoes off if you’re going to stomp around,” Mom says, sipping her martini from the doorway, which she shouldn’t be drinking given she was babysitting today. Unless it’s her first, but I guarantee you it wasn’t. “They make a racket, and you’ll wake Zoe.”

My daughter Zoe is three going on fourteen and is a mini version of me, but she has her father’s intelligence. She’s far too bright for her own good, with the silliest sense of humor.

My wee princess has kept a smile on my face even on my darkest days. Days I’ve tried to hide from her so she isn’t impacted, but the truth is, as any parent knows, kids are highly intuitive.

It’s a survival instinct, I’m sure of it.

Regardless of the resilience that kids naturally have, I want to protect her and will continue to do that. Which means not letting her see the burden I’m under.

Grief is healthy.

But not the business stress and worry I carry each day and have for the past twelve months. The fear that if I don’t get this right, not only will we have lost her father’s legacy (which was meant to be hers) but also our home.

I can’t.

That would break me.

“I don’t stomp around. I’m not ten,” I snap at Mom and continue down toward Anthony’s office.

My husband passed away a year ago—one year, three days and *checks my Apple Watch* five hours.

My heart still aches from the loss.

We were supposed to have more children, travel the world, vacation in Hawaii and one day Switzerland, then retire to the Hamptons and grow old together.

On our wedding day, while saying my vows, I saw an image of us holding hands as we took our last breaths, surrounded by our children and grandchildren. It was the most beautiful, romantic movie...but that’s not how our story ends.

Ended.

Instead, Anthony died in a motor vehicle accident when the brakes of a truck failed and plowed into the side of our Lexus.

They tell me it was quick.

I know it was quick, but not in the way they meant. We only had eight short years together. Yes, I’m grateful Anthony didn’t suffer, but I’m still fucking mad he was taken from me.

I collapsed to my knees the day I was told, going into shock and disbelief. Mom took Zoe while my sister, Belinda, stayed with me as I came to grips with what happened.

Oh, it’s an awful process.

I had to identify his body. What a cruel but necessary thing when you’re falling apart.

Zoe and I deserved more time with her dad—we deserved a lifetime with him. That’s what he and I promised one another.

I grieved the love of my life. The man who was supposed to be my life partner, father of my children, and protector was gone.

Now it’s just Zoe and me.

Anthony’s mother survived him, but his father and grandparents are gone. Which meant I had to tell her when I sold Open Leaf.

She was very emotional.

Ford Bookstores, a chain of forty-something bookstores around America, created by Anthony’s father and grandfather in 1978, was rebranded to Open Leaf a decade ago.

Anthony’s father handed over the reins to my husband just before he turned thirty. We had been married for only a year, and while I was five years younger, we had our life planned out.

He’d worked in the business since he was twenty-one and clearly proved to his father that he was ready for the role.

As a newly married couple, the position and financial benefits set us up for life. Two years later, Zoe was born.

I thought my life was perfect. Anthony had proposed at the top of the Empire State Building, sliding a stunning diamond onto my finger, and just before Zoe was born, Anthony had surprised me with the key to our new home.

The penthouse we now live in.

Together we decorated it, including Zoe’s bedroom, while my tummy was swollen. We made love in front of the fireplace and debated baby names for months.

We never found out if she was a boy or a girl, and when she was born, we both cried.

Yes, he traveled a reasonable amount, but I loved how hands-on he was with all the stores. I understood because before Zoe was born, I’d worked for the company for a short period.

I had a degree in marketing, and Anthony said he’d rather I work for the family business than anywhere else.

At the time, Ford Senior was the CEO, so at least I wasn’t reporting directly to my soon-to-be-husband. In truth, I was inexperienced, and it was agreed that I’d leave to focus on our home and family.

We didn’t need the money, after all.

Shame slices through me as I push open Anthony’s office door, and I walk inside.

I’ve let the Ford family down.

Him, his father and grandfather.

Having to step in and run the company while grieving my husband was an impossible task. I’m not sure I’ve even grieved him yet. Some days I want to scream and cry at the same time.

Right now, my tears are laced with anger at that jerk Carrington. If he’s put small print into this goddamn contract and I’ve missed it, I’ll sue the pants off him.

Don’t think about his pants.

It’s not his pants I’m thinking about. Which makes it all the more uncomfortable given I should be a grieving widow.

Shouldn’t I?

I loved my husband.

But Drew Carrington is a very, very, good-looking man who oozes sex appeal by just standing still with his square jaw, strong brows and steel eyes.

He also knows it.

Those strong shoulders and tailored suits hang from his large frame like he was born with them on. The day he slid his jacket off and handed it to his PA, then rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal a hefty silver timepiece and sexy tattoos, I began coughing.

Thank God there was a glass of water in front of me.

“Are you okay, Ms. Ford?”

That motherfucker.

He knows I was married and that my title is Mrs. and yet he refuses to acknowledge it. Which makes my inappropriate attraction to him even more infuriating.

In fact, I’d even go so far as to say he uses it as a weapon.

When I learned he was interested in buying Open Leaf, my lawyers warned he had a cutthroat reputation, but I was told he was an ethical businessman. That he would pay a fair rate.

That lined up when Drew Carrington proposed that Open Leaf would remain trading, and I would receive ten percent of the profits for a maximum of five years.

‘While it remained trading.’

The small print I didn’t pay enough attention to.

Why would he buy a company, then start closing stores?

It’s true I have little business experience and had never worked anywhere prior to my short marketing stint at Open Leaf, then as the CEO for the past year, and I take full responsibility for its failure, but why offer a share of profits if you never intend to invest in the company?

I truly thought he would bring it back to life.

Otherwise, I never would have sold it to him.

I wanted Zoe to one day walk into an Open Leaf store and say, my grandaddy started this company.

I’m heartbroken that I was wrong.

I’m furious.

Mostly at myself.

This is my fault. I wasn’t raised by businesspeople. They are both doctors who could afford to send me to Columbus University. My fancy degree and education attracted Anthony the night I met him at a party, but he’s probably looking down from heaven, just as ashamed of me as I am of myself.

His mother didn’t chastise me, simply shook her head, saying what a great shame it all was. Then she patted my hand and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea.

I’m sure it was one of those, keep your thoughts on the inside moments.

Zoe is her granddaughter, after all, so the relationship between us is important. I respect her for that.

As I left her home in the Hamptons, she took my arm. “Gemma, dear, had Anthony’s father died and left me with the responsibility of running Open Leaf, I don’t know if I wouldn’t be in your shoes. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“It’s difficult.”

“Raise your daughter right. Which I know you will. That is more important. Hopefully, this Mr. Carrington will bring Open Leaf back to life.”

Hopefully.

Except it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Unfortunately, I was committed to staying on as a consultant for three months to watch either way.

That wasn’t my only concern.

The way he makes me feel, my growing attraction to this man who feels like my enemy, is so inappropriate I can’t put it into words.

Worse, I know it's not one-sided.

He watches me.

Dark eyes drift over my skin, sending shivers through me during meetings. When I lift mine, I find his on me every time. Intense, unreadable and sizzling with a hunger that almost steals the oxygen from my lungs.

It’s palpable.

Every day I expect someone to stand up during a meeting and scream, get a room, you two!

No one does, even when he walks to the side of my chair, waiting for me to stand, and his large hand guides me back to my office.

Wordlessly.

The moment he leaves, usually drawn away by someone wanting him, I pull as much air into my body as I can and close my office door.

The mornings are the hardest.

Waking with my legs moist, images of Drew Carrington lapping at me like I exist for his pleasure. His mouth glistening with my juices.

The need to touch myself and relieve the ache.

But I can’t.

I know I will sleep with another man one day, but not him. Not the man who bought Open Leaf and appears to be doing the opposite of what I believed.

The liar.

I tug out the file, read through the clauses one by one.

Nothing.

There is nothing restricting him from ripping the company to pieces and doing whatever he wants.

I drop my face into my hands.

Oh God. I was relying on the ten percent payments to service the mortgage on the penthouse. It’s the only thing keeping the bank manager off my back.

Once news gets out, they will want a different security and...

I don’t have one.

I don’t have a Plan B.

That motherfucker!