CHAPTER NINE
DREW
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My eyes are on the clock the next day, waiting for Gemma to show up.
I want you to include me.
What I should have done is reiterate that I have no plans to include her and no legal requirement to do so, but I need her here keeping the company running while my team finishes due diligence and setting a strategy for Open Leaf.
I could hire someone else, but it would have been fucking nice if I’d realized she was going to be a no show.
If she doesn’t turn up today, I’ll be forced to recruit someone quickly.
Which will piss me off.
Taking legal action that will impact Gemma and her daughter is not what I want to do. She lost her fucking husband.
I feel like wringing her damn neck.
Chloe knocks on my door, snapping me out of my irritable thoughts.
“Gemma is here.”
“Show her in,” I say, relieved.
I lean back in my chair as Gemma strolls in with her head held high, her freshly trimmed dark hair perfectly styled and bright red lipstick on.
My cock stands to attention. Which means, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be staying seated.
Goddamn her.
An image of those red-stained lips wrapped around my shaft while she’s on her knees before me slams into my consciousness.
Fucking hell.
“Mr. Carrington,” Gemma purrs, removing her handbag from her shoulder and placing it on the table a few feet from me.
“Please.” I point to the seats in front of my desk because, as I said, I cannot fucking move as my cock is as stiff as a handrail. “Close the door, please, Chloe.”
Gemma tucks her dark strands behind her ear as she slides into one of the chairs.
“I want to apolo—”
“No need.” I lie because she should, and I should let her, but it’s becoming clear I am irrationally attracted to her, and we should limit the time we spend together.
I can’t walk around the office with an erection for three damn months. And I can’t fuck her until her contract is over.
She’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But it’s more than just her beauty. Her dark brown eyes have a mix of pride and vulnerability that brings out a protectiveness in me.
Out of nowhere, I might add.
The only people I protect are my friends and family.
Gemma Ford is a business associate.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Yet I gave her a week to get her shit together, and here she sits before me, a grieving widow with a tiny child. Not my responsibility.
However, I can’t stop thinking about the financial position she’s been left in. How difficult she must have found things when she tried to keep her husband’s company above water—an impossible feat, we now know—and what that did to her confidence.
Her pride as she fights to keep her chin up right now.
I want to round the desk, pull her to her feet, grip her neck and tell her to let out the scream I can see simmering in her chest.
Anthony Ford was not the man she thought he was.
Good one, Drew, that would crush her.
Which just adds to my growing list of reasons to hate him.
I can’t do any of those things, but I can throw her a bone. The one she asked for—not the one in my pants, unfortunately.
“To move forward, I want to have a frank discussion about what my plans are so there are no surprises.”
“That would be appreciated.” Gemma nods as I take in her smooth, slim neck and the thin gold chain she wears.
Is it significant?
Has she been touched since she became a widow?
I wonder a lot of things about this woman that I shouldn’t.
Does she pleasure herself late in the night when the city is sleeping? Does she think about my cock sliding deep inside her weeping pussy...or are those only my fantasies?
Yes.
Does she plan to remarry one day, or simply take a lover?
Would I want that man to be me if Gemma was open to it? An idea forms in my head, and before I can stop myself, I start talking.
“You can make up your missed hours by attending a fundraiser with me tonight.”
“Tonight?” Gemma’s eyes bulge.
“Yes.”
What am I doing?
“Tonight? I’ll have to organize a sitter. And I don’t have anything to wear.” She splutters, looking pale.
But she knows I have her cornered. I just don’t know why I’ve done it. Taking Gemma to an event with alcohol where my friends will also be attending is a very bad idea.
Yet, on I go.
“I have an account at Neiman Marcus or Saks. You choose. Stop on the way home, and I will pick you up at seven.”
Gemma fish-mouths it for a moment.
“Or I can have our lawyers send you an invoice for the hours,” I nudge, because for some reason I want her there with me tonight, and apparently I’m willing to blackmail her into attending.
Which is fucking ridiculous given the amount of women in this city who would give an organ to be on my arm.
Her lips press together. “Fine.”
“Good.” I flip open the folder in front of me, all businesslike while my cock is doing the tango.
Settle down, boy, this is a work function. You won’t be fucking her afterward.
“Obviously, it’s black tie,” I add, lifting my gaze.
Gemma nods. “Noted. Shall we begin?”
Oh, sweetheart, we’ve already begun.
Now we play.
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GEMMA
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FOR THE NEXT few hours, I catch up on emails, call back a few of the messages from store members, and approve system requests.
A few of Drew’s team come and go, asking questions about some financial activity that took place while both Anthony and I ran the company.
I’m embarrassed when I can’t answer some of their questions, but none of them make me feel bad. I do spot a few shared glances, and the shame deepens.
“Perhaps you could call Matthew Higgins?”
“Who is Matthew?”
“He was the financial controller,” I reply. “He left soon after Anthony died. About seven months ago.”
Matthew was close to retiring, so I wasn’t surprised. I got the feeling he didn’t like reporting through to a woman and wrote it off as a generational thing.
But I had been asking questions which he wasn’t able to answer at times. When I dug further, he snapped at me.
“Neither of the Ford men involved me in their decisions on these matters. Perhaps you could...dig through their files, Gemma.”
“Oh. Yes. Good idea.” I’d nodded and returned to my office, where I sat staring at the wall.
What files? There weren’t any secret handover files with Open this, Gemma, if we all die. I was winging it.
Later in the afternoon, Drew calls us all into his office to do a quick round table update on Open Leaf. He’s cordial, businesslike, and I’m starting to relax.
Except for this event tonight. I can’t believe I agreed to accompany him to this black-tie charity function. The fact is, I needed every dollar and didn’t want the four, nearly five, days deducted from my income.
Especially after seeing another missed call from my bank manager this morning.
Chloe refreshes the pot of coffee and slides a plate of cookies into the middle of the table. “Do you need anything else?”
I watch her smile at Drew, and it’s clear she finds him attractive.
Christ.
Does every woman lust after this man?
With the top two buttons on his cornflower blue shirt undone and sleeves rolled up, he looks disheveled and sexy.
I bet he knows how to pleasure a woman.
I bite my bottom lip as his eyes dart to mine, like he can hear my thoughts.
“Gemma?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“I have a meeting,” Robin says, and the other two men gather their things and leave while Drew stands and walks to his desk.
Instead of leaving, I watch the movement of his back muscles under his shirt and imagine the strength of his thighs as he walks. I can only imagine how beautiful he is naked.
This is completely inappropriate, but I’m not one of those women who finds many men attractive. Sure, I might agree a certain man is handsome if pointed out, but I don’t really notice them.
I’ve only slept with two men in my life. A boy I dated in high school who I lost my virginity to, and then Anthony, who became my husband.
A sexy celebrity might catch my attention, but I never feel like this. I never study a man’s physique like he’s a piece of fruit in a grocery store. One I’m eager to sink my teeth into.
Gemma!
An image of Drew naked, stroking this thick, long cock in front of me slams inside my mind. The image is vibrant as it leaks pre-cum, his strong hand moving up and down—
A throat clears.
My eyes snap up from his penis.
Oh, good god—I was staring at his crotch!
“Shall we finish up?” Drew smirks while I die.
“Yes.” I stand, dropping my phone to the ground.
Shit.
We both reach down simultaneously, bumping heads. I knock his laptop with my elbow and curse.
Jesus Christ.
As we rise, our faces are inches apart, mine undoubtedly bright red as I pant anxiously.
Oh god.
His mouth.
His lips.
His scent...it’s so masculine and musky. His brows dip, nostrils flare, and I’m so startled I gasp and wobble on my heels.
Drew grabs my upper arms, steadying me.
“Gemma,” he rasps.
“Sorry.” I swallow. “I have a headache. I...um, too much coffee.”
His hands fall away reluctantly.
Without looking him in the eye a second longer, I gather my things, shoving them into my bag.
Aware that he hasn’t moved, except to slide his hands into his pockets—which I note with my peripheral vision—I start muttering my farewell.
“See you tonight. Seven, right. That’s fine, I’ll feed Zoe. Get mom to stay over or something. Black tie. Good. Okay. Well, yup, good.”
“Gemma,” Drew says when I reach the door.
Damn it, now I have to look at him.
I turn.
“Breathe. And wear black.” His voice is low, rough and incredibly arousing.
Breathing is optional at this point, I’m afraid.
I nod.
Scorching desire swirls inside his steel-blue globes as my instincts scream at me to run for my life.
I don’t want to.
I want him to spread me open and do all the bad things a man like him does to a woman. I want him to stop my mind from working overtime, trying to figure everything out. I want him to remind me I’m a beautiful, sexy woman.
The problem is Drew Carrington would destroy me if I let him do any of that. Just as he might do to the Ford legacy.
My job is to survive this.
Survive him.
For Zoe.