CHAPTER TEN #2
Seb, Mason, Colt, and Zander all knew mom, and were there grieving alongside me. While I’m close to Damon and Derek, there’s something about having a group of friends like these guys and what we’ve been through that has bonded us.
I don’t know if they know, but I keep an eye on Sandy, Jack’s murderer. She’s been lying low but one day she will misstep.
When she does, we will act.
I do believe karma, with a little help from us, will have its day.
So yeah, throwing money at the AHF has purpose.
“Your boy is just showing off,” Zander says.
Gemma startles. “Oh, no. Mr. Carrington is not my boy.”
I roll my eyes and shoot Zander a thank you very fucking much, asshole look.
“He knows you are my business associate, Gemma. Ignore him. He’s a scoundrel, and all the rumors are true about him.”
Zander grins wider. “Yes, they are.”
Gemma swallows and glances between us.
“Jesus. Let’s go.” I take her hand. “Let’s go look at the auctions.”
“Don’t bid on the bracelet. It’s mine,” Lexi calls out, and I catch her running a hand across Mason’s chest as we turn away. “Right, baby?”
“You know the conditions,” I hear Mason reply as we move through the crowd.
“What are the conditions?” Gemma asks,
I have a strong feeling it has something to do with his cock and Lexi not talking. That Gemma hasn’t connected the dots just shows me how inexperienced she is.
Innocent? Not so much, but I bet one look inside the Obsidian Club would have her running to the West Coast.
“Nothing we need to get involved with.” I smile at her, then wonder if she might be into threesomes.
For three guys who used to share lovers at the club for over a decade, now they’d skin someone alive for touching their women.
“Did I miss something?”
“I hope so.” I keep my eyes looking forward, wondering how I’d feel about Zander and me sharing Gemma if she was so inclined.
No.
Big fat fucking no way!
We line up, taking in all the valuable auction items. Each has a tablet attached where you can place a bid. The card I was handed when we arrived has my personal details, so all I need to do is swipe, and if I’m the highest bidder, the funds will deduct from my account.
“Is that the mayor?” Gemma whispers.
“Yes.” I lean down to read the small print on the ten-day vacation in the Maldives.
God, I could do with a holiday.
“Oh, look, it’s vintage Chanel. The Chanel Haute Couture gown was worn by Cindy Crawford in 1993,” Gemma reads out loud. “Stunning.”
While I swipe the Maldives package, Gemma gasps, and my spine snaps into an upright position, looking for the threat.
Which doesn’t exist.
She’s leaning over a display further along as if there’s a bunch of damn kittens in it.
“My goodness!” she exclaims. “Drew, look at this.”
I take a few steps to her side and find myself almost blinded. A breathtaking twenty-carat teardrop diamond pendant suspended from a pavé diamond chain lies on a bed of black velvet.
I understand her gasp.
It’s fucking stunning.
Gemma can’t seem to look away. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” Her eyes lift to mine, and I almost say yes. “Well, aside from my daughter, of course.”
That’s not what I was going to say.
“Sorry, I guess I’m a bit of a magpie. I saw the Crown Jewels in England once. They made my jaw drop, but of course no one can ever wear them except the royal family. Even then, they rarely do, and how would...”
When she looks back at me the second time, I’m grinning.
“God, I’m rambling. Sorry.”
“It would look gorgeous on you,” I rasp as Gemma steps away the moment she becomes aware of a group of people gathered behind us.
I do the same, and she tucks herself into my side.
Does she know she’s done it?
She blushes again. “It would look beautiful on any woman.”
Not true.
We watch a celebrity couple admire the diamond and then walk off muttering, and I can’t help but wonder if they are going to bid. I know who they are, and I don’t think they have the spare cash that item would take.
I could be wrong.
“God, imagine having the sort of money to buy something like that.” Gemma shakes her head and then catches herself and looks embarrassed. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
“I’m deaf in this ear.” I tap it and wink.
“Thank you for saving me from my big mouth.”
I laugh and lead her a few feet away from the diamond, but she glances back at it a few times. “You are right, very few people on the planet could buy that diamond.”
And if I did, I’d want to fuck you while you wore nothing but the brilliant gem.
I am surprised she is so enamored with it. Gemma seems like the sort of person who would be more impressed with feeding the starving or adopting a kitten.
“Well.” She finally catches herself. “Right now, I’m focused on paying my mortgage, unlike most people in this room.”
There it is.
“You’d be surprised.” I lead her past the rest of the auction items and place a few more bids.
“How much did you spend?” Gemma asks, intrigued, and I think she might be enjoying watching me spend my money.
I should be triggered given what Sandy did to Jack, but I find myself enjoying the glint in her eyes.
“I don’t know yet. I won’t win them all.”
That’s by design.
The more bids, the higher the money raised this evening. That’s why we’re here after all.
“Must be nice. I know Anthony and I never struggled, but I can’t fathom having billions. Sorry, this is so inappropriate. I blame the champagne.”
Again, I should be triggered, but instead I glance down and note the regret on her face. She’s right, that drink is like a truth serum.
And it’s almost refreshing. Gemma is not intimidated by my wealth, almost fascinated.
“Well, you chose to be a mom, not a businesswoman. Am I right? If you’d wanted to pursue financial gain, you would have.”
“Well, I thought my husband owned a thriving business. Not that it’s why I married him, but when we got pregnant, we agreed I’d be a mother. That’s what you do when you are in partnership.”
“You trusted him that much?”
Fuck that. Having money gives me power, independence, and a sense of security that I’d never put in anyone else’s hands.
“Yes, he was my husband.” She frowns as if the question is irrational. “Of course I did.”
Sure, but how’d that work out for you?
That’s when I realize Gemma blames herself, not Anthony Ford, for the failure of Open Leaf. I study her as she takes another sip, and start seeing things from her perspective.
And I don’t like it.
Yet I can’t correct her without sharing some information that I don’t have confirmation on, and nor is this the time and place to do so.
“My point is,” I bring us back to the original conversation, “If I were a family man, raising a child, instead of intensely focused on my business, I wouldn’t be worth what I am.”
“Which is?” Gemma smirks.
I lift a brow as my lips twitch. “You googled me.”
“I doubt it’s accurate.” She shrugs.
“Correct.” I nod because my net worth moves around as I trade and invest. “So, going back to your first comment, is it nice? Yes. But would you swap your daughter for a billion dollars?”
“Never!”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t you want a family? Children?” Gemma asks.
“No.” I start to walk away, and she scurries after me.
“Not at all?”
“That’s what no means.”
“What about love?”
Jesus Christ.
“How many women in this room do you think are in love with the men they’re accompanying tonight?” I stop, and Gemma almost bumps into me, then we simultaneously glance around us.
Couture gowns, watches worth more than luxury vehicles, and jewels of every hue glisten under the enormous chandeliers as thousand-dollar bottles of champagne flow.
I know I’m being cynical, but I also know I’m not wrong.
“A few. Some. I don’t know,” Gemma splutters. “Fine, a partnership doesn’t have to be about love. It can be...mutual respect and—”
“Is that what you had with Anthony?” I lower my brows.
“I’m not talking about me. I’m asking what you want?”
Why?
Why does she want to know what I want?
“Sex,” I reply bluntly, my eyes landing on her ruby red lips.
Gemma rubs them together, her tongue sweeping out and leaving a glistening hue when she’s done.
My cock turns to granite.
This is not good.
I should have driven past her apartment building and told her to enjoy the dress another time.
Gemma keeps hold of my stare while taking a big sip of champagne. I’m sure it’s her second glass, and that explains why she’s suddenly becoming so bold with me.
I like it.
I like it a whole damn lot.
“Sex. That’s all?”
Yes, and if you wanted to see what it feels like, I’d be happy to oblige.
Still, her question and newfound confidence have me leaning closer, my lips quirked as I whisper. “I’ve never been asked is that all when I’m done with a lover.”
She draws in a sharp breath, her breasts heaving.
Jesus fuck, if we were alone, I’d shove that red fabric up over her ass and find a surface sturdy enough to slam my cock right inside her.
We both know she’s wet as hell right now.
Unfortunately, we are not alone.
“Well...lucky them.” Gemma swallows, glancing away as she clears her throat. “And lucky you.”
I straighten, I take in her deep red cheeks and wonder how I should play this. I shouldn’t touch this woman until her contract ends. But those are my rules. And I must admit, the thought of breaking them and tasting Gemma Ford is very damn appealing.
The next move must be hers.
Would it be terrible if I got her another glass of Cristal for encouragement?
Probably.
Gemma focuses for an unnaturally long time on the wall behind me while white-hot chemistry sparks between us.
Finally, she hands me her glass. “I need to use the restroom.”
As I take it, our fingers brush, and her eyes snap to mine, mouth parting. Then she darts away.
Groaning, knowing I should be a better man, I down the rest of her liquid courage and place the glass on a nearby table. Then I wander over and join my friends, sliding a hand into the pocket of my Tom Ford tuxedo pants.
“That one you can’t have.” Zander gives me a sideways glare.
“Why not?”
“You know why.” His voice is low and firm.
I rock on my heels. Yeah, I do—Gemma is way too good for a bad boy like me.