Chapter -2-
“What took so long?” Kami hisses as Denz slides into the chair next to her, fifteen minutes late. He nudges the muffin box to the center of the conference room’s walnut-finished table. A peace offering.
At least the meeting hasn’t started yet.
“Was there a problem?” Kami persists.
“Nope!” Denz rasps, throat still too tight.
What happened at Crema was bigger than a “problem.” It was a whole epic-fail compilation video on YouTube.
A replay of stutters and trips and what-the-fuck moments.
A specific kind of nightmare where Denz’s ex-boyfriend drinks tea and speaks in a British accent and is suddenly living in Atlanta again.
When Kami tilts her head expectantly, waiting for more, Denz blurts, “They were busy.”
He can’t tell her. Not yet. Considering his family stopped being Team Bray immediately after Denz recounted their breakup a week before graduation, this is one secret he needs to keep.
“What’s the holdup?” He waves a hand around the room, deflecting.
“Dad’s waiting on a special guest.”
“Me?”
“Keep dreaming,” Kami says flatly. “I don’t know who. He’s been on the phone since I walked in.”
For a Monday meeting, the conference room is surprisingly empty. Even after the holiday. Denz does a quick head count. Out of a staff of thirty, only six seats are taken.
Jordan sits on Kami’s other side, overhead LED lights washing over his warm brown skin as he scrolls through emails.
Across from him, a curl of floppy dark hair falls over Eric’s brow.
He’s studying contracts on his tablet. If anyone’s capable of challenging Kami for Most Dedicated Employee, it’s Eric Tran.
Rounding out the staff are Kim and Connor, two thirtysomething event coordinators passing a sheet of paper back and forth.
To anyone else, it might look like they’re plotting the company’s next big celebration, but Denz knows better.
It’s plans for their annual cosplay party.
At the head of the room, Kenneth Carter paces, phone to his ear.
“Of course! Your day should be flawless.” He adjusts his designer horn-rimmed glasses. “We’ll fix any detail you’re not in love with.”
Denz smiles. This is his dad at his finest. Armani suit jacket removed. Shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Monochromatic green tie loosened as he listens closely, occasionally dropping suggestions like it was the client’s idea all along.
The icon Denz has spent decades trying to impress.
Kami elbows him. “Fifty bucks says he convinces them to go with the peonies.”
Denz scoffs. “You make twice as much as me.”
“Fine. Coffee? No, a latte.”
“Deal.”
He hooks their pinkies. Kami’s midnight-blue nail polish matches the backless Valentino number she wore Saturday night. Denz predicts she’ll be on top of all the best-dressed lists for the next month.
“Cuz.” Jordan leans forward. “You sure about that bet?”
“You want in?”
Jordan snorts. He’s a year younger than Denz, but they practically grew up together.
“Thing One and Thing Two,” the elders in their family called them.
An unbreakable bond of pranks and video games and Monopoly, which is how Denz discovered Jordan’s hyper-competitive streak.
He hates losing. Any given game night would end in a thrown board or minor bloodshed.
“No, thanks,” Jordan says. “I don’t like those odds.”
Denz turns to Kami. “Dahlias.”
“Dahlias?” she says disappointedly.
“What?” Denz smirks. “They’re versatile. Like me.”
Jordan face-palms. Kami flicks Denz’s forehead just as Kenneth’s hearty laugh echoes in the room. He says, “Now, about that flower arrangement. I think the peonies…”
Denz groans, “How’d you know?”
“The Kenneth Carter playbook never changes.”
It’s a sad truth. Denz adores all the five-star, glamorous parties his dad throws.
Nothing but the best. But not much changes from event to event.
The personalization their brand once promised has become a paint-by-numbers checklist used to woo clients.
He misses the old 24 Carter Gold. The one splashed across magazine covers, raving about their parties and weddings.
Kenneth ends his call. “Thanks for your patience, everyone.” He eases into his chair. Checks his gold watch. “We’ll start soon.”
Denz follows his dad’s gaze to the two empty chairs between him and Eric. One should be filled by—
“Don’t worry, we’re here!”
Auntie Cheryl glides into the room in a pencil skirt and geometric print blouse, box braids woven into a crown on top of her head.
She sets two iPhones on the table before slipping into the chair closest to Kenneth.
As his executive assistant, she keeps one of her devices strictly for work.
The other is her personal phone. She’s the family’s gossip hotline, affectionately nicknamed Auntie C.C. —Carter Confidential.
“Well, well.”
Denz straightens at the new voice. Strutting toward the last chair is Auntie Eva, Cheryl’s fraternal twin.
The ends of her auburn bob wig cut across her round cheeks.
Her pleated minidress is at least two seasons ahead of anything on the Paris runways.
She’s a former model turned private fashion stylist. The who’s who of clients knocking at her door are pretty impressive.
Denz isn’t sure why she’s at their Monday staff meeting. Eva doesn’t work for the company.
“Nephew?” She studies him with a sharp eyebrow raise. “Are you auditioning to be an extra in a Hallmark movie?”
“Told you,” Kami coughs into her hand.
“Is that…” Eva eyes his sweater. “J.Crew?”
“Ralph Lauren,” he says proudly.
Eva sighs. “Tragic. Certainly not the choice Kamila’s made.”
A tight grin strains Kami’s mouth.
“Save the family reunion stuff for later,” Kenneth says. “Now that we’re all accounted for: I have an announcement to make before someone ”—He stares pointedly at Cheryl—“makes it for me.”
Cheryl lifts her eyes from her personal phone, unbothered.
“And I’m sure you’re all wondering why Eva’s here,” Kenneth continues.
Wary glances are shared around the room. Denz bites into a blueberry muffin, trying to temper the anticipation growing in his belly. His dad’s dramatic pause doesn’t help.
“I wanted my family present when I say this.” Another breath. “I’m retiring.”
It’s unnervingly quiet for a beat. Kenneth reclines in his chair, smiling as if he didn’t drop the most unexpected news ever. Denz, on the other hand, feels like he’s been crammed into one of those T-shirt cannons, waiting to be shot out into a crowd of starving sharks.
“You’re… what?”
“Stepping away as CEO of 24 Carter Gold,” Kenneth confirms. “It’s time.”
Time? He’s only fifty-eight. Denz isn’t certain how the whole pension thing works, but he swears that’s too young for retirement. And it’s not as if anyone’s trying to force him out. This city—hell, the world adores him. Step aside Nicolas Cage, Kenneth Carter is the real national treasure.
Denz’s next question slips out during the congratulatory applause from the staff: “Who’s your successor?”
More silence. The aunties trade whispers. Kami’s curious eyes slide to Kenneth as he grabs a chocolate-chip muffin from the box. “Next week, we’ll send out a formal announcement,” he says. “After that, a wide search for the next CEO will be conducted.”
Eric chokes on his coffee when Cheryl says, annoyed, “You can’t do that, Kenny.”
“I’ve made my deci—”
Eva cuts him off. “It’s the wrong decision.”
A mix of confusion and slow-blink shock spreads around the table. The twins are three years younger than Kenneth. That’s never stopped them from acting like they were here first.
“You can’t give the keys to a multimillion-dollar company— our family’s legacy —to some stranger who sent you a résumé on LinkedIn,” Eva chastises.
Kenneth chews his muffin thoughtfully. “And what’s your suggestion?”
“Keep it in-house,” Cheryl demands. “The next CEO should be someone who knows this company. Who loves it.”
“Preferably a family member,” Eva says not so quietly.
“That’s not a requirement,” Kenneth insists.
Denz picks at his muffin. He watches his dad steeple his fingers, ignoring Eva’s snappy comeback. Kenneth’s in the zone.
Denz is too.
The inception of 24 Carter Gold was inspired by an idea his dad had right after college.
He was the King of Parties. Not keggers or the frat-house, vomiting-in-the-bushes ’80s movies kind.
Thoughtful, organized, full-on celebrations that had everyone on campus begging him to coordinate their next get-together.
Denz’s grandparents, a retired doctor and teacher, funded most of the start-up.
Their connections provided the initial clients.
When they died, their shares were left to Kenneth, the aunties, and their husbands.
What Eva said makes sense. The company should stay within the family, one way or another. But it’s still his dad’s decision.
“I’m not stepping away until late spring, so…” Kenneth pushes up his glasses to eye every face at the table. “The public search can wait. I’ll take self-nominations. Everyone in this room has contributed to our current success—”
“Everyone?” Eva challenges, eyebrow arched.
They all know where her comment is directed: Kim and Connor, who started six months before Denz. While Kenneth is always diplomatic about his approach, the aunties are… direct.
Ruthless, to be honest.
“Everyone,” Kenneth affirms. “Any nominations?”
A hush. Denz anticipated a Carter Monopoly Night bloodbath. Who wouldn’t want a shot at Kenneth Carter’s throne? The second this goes public, ambitious event planners and CEO-wannabes are going to pounce. His dad is giving them first dibs, and no one’s shooting their shot?
Kami’s hand goes up. “I’m in.”
Denz grins proudly. Kami’s one of the most senior staff members. Kenneth has mentored handfuls of event managers who’ve gone on to start their own companies, but Kami stuck around, perfecting her craft while also elevating the company’s status.