CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GEMMA
––––––––
I step out of the elevator and smooth my hands over my black dress as I head toward the hotel restaurant.
It has been a whirlwind day visiting both the Atlanta and Chicago stores. I phoned Zoe before I came downstairs to say goodnight and can’t wait to get home. I hate leaving her, but I knew these trips would be required. It was one of the key reasons OCP needed me.
It’s the first Dufort Hotel I’ve stayed at, and the rooms are lovely. I wanted to pour a bubble bath and order room service, but we’re having a team dinner.
The less time I’m around Drew the better, so my plan is to eat one course, then fake a migraine and go pour that bubble bath.
The thing is, he’s so damn handsome.
Even when he’s being the boss, doing all the boss things, I can’t help the way my body reacts. Just standing talking to his team, the way he runs his fingers along his jawline, it makes me all tingly.
I couldn’t let him know.
Running out on him like I did after we had sex on Friday was rather childish of me. I feel embarrassed. It’s the first one-night stand I ever had.
When I told Belinda about the diamond necklace—come on! You would too!—she said that negated the one-night stand status.
“A man fucking you with millions of dollars in diamonds around the neck does not make you a slut.”
“I never used the word slut,” I responded.
“Still.”
“I don’t know what its value was.”
“You are missing the point, Gemma. Diamonds. Big chunky diamonds and he...did his thing all over you.”
“Came. I’m not a child. You can say came.”
“Can I? You can be a prude sometimes.”
“I’m not a prude!” I snapped. “I was a wife and mother...this is all new to me.”
“Well, you seem to be doing just fine,” Belinda sniggered.
Then she insinuated that I should have taken the necklace home with me. I told her that it would have been theft.
She disagreed.
I’m sure we have different fathers.
Nevertheless, she’s wrong. I’m not a prude. The things I let Drew do to me, things I wish he would do again, made me feel like a very sexual woman.
He tasted all of me.
Aside from his comment on the jet, we’ve both been very professional during this trip. I’m glad it hasn’t been awkward. It would be if Drew knew how much I was affected by his very presence, but he doesn’t, so thank God for that!
When I’m shown inside the restaurant, I find Drew sitting alone. There are only two seats.
“Oh.” I slow my walk as I approach. “Are Robin and Theo not joining us?”
Drew’s steel-blue, sexy eyes meet mine as he stands. He indicates that the waiter, who’s approaching us, should leave, and pulls out my chair himself.
I sit.
“Robin has family here, and Theo is preparing some documents for me, so is dining in his room.”
This is a bad idea.
Being alone with Drew feels risky.
Being alone with Drew while eating dinner, which feels like a social, not a business thing, feels very risky.
The way he’s looking at me.
The desire is back in his eyes, and he’s not even trying to hide it. I was clearly wrong. He’s hidden the way he feels very cleverly today.
Have I? Or was it obvious?
I think about our day. The way he glanced my way while talking, opened a door, and only slightly touched my waist as I passed him. The way his hooded eyes met mine as he sipped a coffee.
Christ, have I lied to myself?
Was it there all along?
“If you want to do the same, I’m happy to—”
“You’ve dressed up. Done your hair.” Drew indicates my black Prada dress and the curl I’ve put in my hair.
Did I do them for him?
I snort. “It’s nothing. It took two minutes.”
Twenty. My hair is too short for curls, so I had to wet it and start again so it created a sexy wave.
Now why would I want sexy waves for a dinner with colleagues?
I push back my chair.
“Stop.”
“I wish you’d stop commanding me.” I lift my eyes to him as he rounds the table and sits.
His jaw muscles flex as he smooths a hand down his black shirt. “I don’t think you do.”
Oh, God.
Swallowing, I search for a response, but the waitress arrives, and Drew places both our orders, leaving me wondering what I’ll be eating tonight.
Am I on the menu again?
Is that what I want?
“Where were we?” he asks when she leaves, slowly spinning the stem of his wineglass and watching me.
The movement reminds me how he pinched my nipples and they hardened. My eyes shoot up and lock with his.
“Keep looking at me like that, Gemma, and we will be eating in my room.” His voice is husky.
“We aren’t doing that,” I say with little conviction.
He grunts and sips his wine.
I do the same, swallowing too much too quickly and coughing.
God, why am I such a klutz around this man?
I dab my mouth with the napkin, noticing the lack of response in his expression, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re the same eyes that bore down on me as he thrust his cock inside me.
My entire body shudders.
I need to bring the focus back to business.
“So, what did you think of the stores?” I ask.
Our bread arrives, and he grabs a roll and starts buttering it. “Everything is matching up with what I see on paper.”
What a non-answer.
“So, you see potential?” I straighten my silverware.
“I didn’t say that.” He takes a bite and indicates I should try the break rolls.
“I’m gluten-free.”
“Of course you are.”
“It’s a health thing. Don’t be rude,” I snap. “So, you don’t see potential?”
He chews, watching me with his unreadable expression, and I want to scream at him. I want to tell him to stop taunting me with his solid jaw, his big, strong shoulders and the way his shirts fit him in a way they do no other man.
To stop his eyes from glowering in a way that makes my panties wet no matter where we are.
That he needs to stop showing up in my early morning dreams, his face between my legs feeling so real I wake up on the edge of an orgasm.
How I wish I were someone else. That he was someone else. That we were on that vacation in the Maldives for a month and could simply be naked and enjoy this chemistry.
But he’d laugh at me.
I was a one-night wonder to him. Despite the diamonds. There is no way I’m going to embarrass myself further.
Better to let him think I’ve forgotten it and am purely focused on the business.
“One of the challenges with keeping owners on as consultants after buying a company is the attachment they have to the outcome.”
“What outcome?”
“The potential you’re asking about.”
He chews some more, and I start to get angry. Drew is treating me like an idiot.
I might not have been able to keep Open Leaf afloat, but I’m not completely stupid. I did get a degree from Columbus, after all.
“Well, you wouldn’t have purchased it if you didn’t see potential. Surely. I doubt a man like you throws money at things you don’t think will have value.” I finally sip my wine and mumble against the glass. “Even diamond necklaces.”
Shit, that fell out.
His eyes glower.
I look away.
That was dumb.
I crossed the line.
Please let him forget that comment.
“That was an investment which has already shown excellent returns.”
I take a very big sip this time. Then, a second one.
“Gemma.” Drew leans an arm on the table. “I’m going to ask you a question. One I want an honest answer to.”
“Okay,” I almost whisper.
“Why do you want to see Open Leaf succeed?”
My mouth falls open. I’ve never been asked a more ridiculous question in my life. Is he serious?
“Why...how could I not? Ford Books was started by Zoe’s great grandfather. Run by her grandfather and then her father. It’s her legacy.”
And to keep my home. Which I have no intention of going into. Those ten percent shares are important. One keeping my bank manager off my back.
“Not anymore,” Drew says, holding my stare as I feel tears forming.
I fight them, hating my body for being so treacherous. My face lowers, and I stare at the glasses, cutlery and napkins for a long minute.
Not anymore.
Drew is a professional, a wealthy businessman. He’s unmarried and has a reputation for doing what he does. There is no emotion in anything he does. Not even fucking.
How could he understand?
How could he care about the need of a mother to save something for her daughter, the legacy of her father and forefathers, to protect the employees who have been so loyal to the Ford family for generations?
He doesn’t care.
Drew Carrington is a heartless man.
And I slept with him. Regret seeps in, despite acknowledging how handsome he is.
Women seated around us have been glancing at him since I walked in. Hell, I’m sure the waitress slipped her number under his napkin. For all she knows, we are married.
I still wear my wedding ring, after all.
His eyes dip to my hand, to my ring, and then our eyes meet. He’s annoyed. I can see it.
Rarely can I read this man, but it’s there in black and white in his gaze.
Why?
I spin the gold band, and a glint appears, as if he knows I’m taunting him. Drew breaks the connection and takes a sip of wine, his jaw tight.
God, he’s confusing.
It’s almost like he wants to own me, hates that I was married, and yet loves that the barrier exists to keep me from getting too close.
It’s hard to completely regret Friday night. I was ready to have sex, after a year of celibacy. Strangely, my guilt hasn’t been to Anthony but more about this odd situation I find myself in about the company.
I suppose it has more to do with my daughter and protecting her.
But we cannot keep doing this.
And he has no right to be annoyed that I’m wearing a wedding ring.
I don’t belong to him, despite the way my body thrums whenever he’s near.
Like now.
The way I want his touch, his mouth on mine, his body up against mine to feel that possession. It’s...addictive.
At the same time, his decisions about Open Leaf are a stark reminder that he somewhat holds my future in his hands. My financial future and how Zoe will be impacted.
But there’s more.
Unlike him, I do care.
I have known these employees for nearly ten years. As Anthony’s fiancée, then his wife and their Marketing Manager, Zoe’s mom...then Anthony’s widow and the new CEO...I failed them.
I wasn’t experienced enough to do what was necessary to keep the family business afloat, nor were there the funds to employ someone who could. We had to sell.
I had to sell.
I want to know what he has planned.
So, you see potential?
I didn’t say that.
He’s keeping his cards close to his chest and has hit the nail on the head with his final comment.
Not anymore.
I study the stem of my glass and search for an appropriate response. My chest hurts and my pride hurts.
What if I lose our home?
Panic flares inside me, and I push back my chair.
I can’t do this.
“Gemma.”
“You’re right. It’s not her legacy anymore. I took that from her. She lost her father, and now...I have to go. Enjoy your dinner. I’m sorry.”
I pick up my purse and walk out of the restaurant, blinking and hoping like God the tears will wait until I reach my room. At the elevator, I punch the button, step in, push my floor, and then let out a breath as the doors close.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter, thanking the fates that I’m alone as I shake my head.
Ping.
I step out and stride down to my room, desperate to be behind the door and able to let down my defenses and cry.
I press the plastic card on the reader, and when it beeps, I hear my name.
“Gemma!” His voice is deep and firm as I close my eyes, knowing I was lucky to get this far.