CHAPTER EIGHT
GEMMA
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“Bye, Mommy.” Zoe jumps up and down at the elevator as Mom tries to get her inside. I swear three-year-olds are a cross between a puppy and one of those bouncy goats. They never keep still, but they are cute as hell.
“Go, go. Before Grandma has to ride the elevator on her own.” I wink at Mom over Zoe’s head.
“Oh no,” Zoe cries and runs into the elevator, hugging Grandma’s legs. “You will be okay, Grandma. I’m here.”
“See you tonight,” Mom says, pushing the button.
“Love you, Zoe.” I blow her a kiss.
“Wuv you, Mommy.” She waves out her hand like a pageant princess.
My daughter is nothing short of dramatic. I’m almost certain she’ll be an actress.
Or a vet.
We shall see.
I was planning to head into the OCP offices today, but when I woke up, I remembered I had a hair appointment, and as most women know, a cut and color take hours. The timing is terrible, but I’m not waiting six weeks to get another appointment, so Drew Carrington can wait until after lunch.
I’m having lunch with Belinda, my sister, and then I’ll grace his presence.
I’m sure he will be thrilled.
I suppose I’d know if I’d read or listened to any of his messages, but I’m not a sadist.
Grabbing my purse and sliding my feet into a pair of navy Michael Kors flats, I check the time on my phone as I close the ranch sliders in the living area, then head down in the elevator.
As I walk through the lobby, I suddenly stop dead.
Leaning against a post is Drew Carrington, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and looking like something out of a mafia movie. Especially with his security guard standing a few feet away.
Good God, Drew is insanely handsome. Despite the gangster vibes—which, let’s face it, are directed at me—he looks ready for a photoshoot. He’s dressed in tailored black pants, designer shoes, and a pin-striped shirt rolled up his forearms, revealing a chunky silver wristwatch and a tattoo.
Oh, my ovaries.
Two women walk past him, flicking their hair, seeking his attention. Unfortunately for them and me, it’s locked directly my way.
I gulp.
Pushing away from the post, Drew stalks towards me while I stay rooted to the floor.
“I thought I would pick you up this morning, Mrs. Ford. It appears you have forgotten how to find my office.”
Drew stops before me, his eyes drinking in all of me in appreciation.
I suppress my shiver.
For a brief moment I imagine him cupping the back of my neck and kissing me painfully as I groan against his lips. How he’d drag me into the elevator, punch the button, then strip me naked before reaching my penthouse.
“Mrs. Ford.”
Shit.
Get it together.
“I have a hair appointment this morning.” I start to step around him, but he blocks my path.
“You have a legal obligation. Don’t make this difficult. For either of us,” Drew snaps.
Can he hear himself?
How is this difficult for him?
I’m the one who is out of her league. I’m the one losing my mind by wondering how thick his cock is behind his damn zipper.
“Drew, please.” I attempt to get around him because I cannot look into those steel-blue eyes while my panties are this wet. “I will—”
“Gemma.” He leans in, and I can’t breathe. “You do not want to cross me.”
I swallow as he straightens and glances around the luxurious lobby.
“Legal action will tie you up for twelve months and more. Do you want to lose your apartment?”
“Penthouse,” I snarl.
He lifts a brow.
Motherfucker.
“Why did you walk out?” Drew demands.
I glance around, not wanting to have this conversation here.
“Your comment was derogatory and inappropriate. I have a right to know what you are doing with Open Leaf.”
His brow slightly lifts, and I hate that we both know I’m wrong.
“Fine, I don’t. But I want you to include me.”
“Then talk to me. Do not run off and gaslight me like you’ve done the past few days.
” Drew slides his hands into his pockets as even more shame ascends on me.
As if he’s aware, he glances around, then turns back, locking our gazes.
“Go to your hair appointment and take the rest of the day, but Gemma, I expect you in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”
I let out a sigh.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“Yes,” I nod, chagrined. “Oh, no, sorry, my daughter has an appointment in the morning, so I will be there at ten.”
It is a medical appointment, so I’m not moving it for anyone. Drew stares at me for a long minute, his gaze wild like the ocean.
“I’m not in the habit of moving my itinerary for absent business partners and three-year-olds. Don’t make me regret it.”
It’s not until he’s out the door that I wonder how he knew how old Zoe was.
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AFTER MY HAIR appointment, I meet Belinda for lunch as planned. A liquid lunch.
“How’s my niece?” she asks.
“Good. She’s with mom.” I sip the martini and let out an appreciative moan. “Do you think it’s creepy that Drew Carrington knew Zoe was three?”
Belinda bites into her Caesar salad and shakes her head. “No. It’s called due diligence.”
I shrug.
“Guess so. Zoe doesn’t have anything to do with the business, so I just thought it was strange that he mentioned her.”
“You’re being a mom. I doubt hearing a strange man talking about her felt good. How was it framed?”
Ah. Well.
I guess it’s time to confess.
“He said, and I quote, I’m not in the habit of moving my itinerary around for absent business partners and three-year-olds. Don’t make me regret it.”
Belinda’s fork freezes on the way to her mouth. “Back up the bus. Absent?”
I wave my hand out. “We had an argument. I decided not to go into the office.”
“You breached your contract.”
Did I mention she was a lawyer?
“I’m not one of your clients.” I study my salad, then decide the martini is more appealing “Don’t lecture me. He was incredibly rude about me on the phone to someone while we were at the Manhattan store, indicating he had no plans to include me in any future decisions about the company.”
She drops her fork and reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Gemmy, you don’t own it anymore; he does.”
I tug my hand away.
She only calls me Gemmy when she is trying to placate me. I’m not a highly strung person, and it annoys me. In fact, it’s only been since Anthony was killed that I’ve really found my voice.
At least, that’s how it feels.
“I know that. I know,” I cry under my voice. “Why does everyone keep telling me? Jesus. I’m just trying to do what’s right for Zoe. For Anthony. For the Ford legacy.”
Belinda gives me a sad smile and picks up her fork and resumes eating. “Gem, you didn’t destroy it.”
“Yes, I did.”
Everyone is just being polite, but the fact is, the company was ticking along just fine while he was at the helm. Things were obviously in a state of change, and I’m sure he had a plan.
I’m...mostly sure.
It was me who wasn’t able to work it out and keep the ship afloat.
I’m to blame.
Now the people who’ve worked for Open Leaf for years could lose their jobs.
Because of me.