Chapter 10
Chandler
It was hard to focus on anything else but Gabriella as she stood just inches away from me wearing that gown.
All I kept thinking was how good it would look good on the floor of my bedroom.
And how good she would look out of it. I wondered if she wore a bra.
Or underwear. I willed my cock not to twitch as I thought about her bare, tan skin.
Enough of it was on display now for me to feel like I needed to loosen the collar of my button-down to breathe better.
The black satin fabric hugged her breasts, and without straps, it left her neckline bare.
Her light brown hair was pulled up atop her head, revealing the long line of her neck and emphasizing the heart shape of her face.
My eyes were drawn to her collarbone, imagining my tongue running up it, tasting her sweet skin.
Part of me wanted to see if I could rile her up, just to see how far her blush would creep down from her cheeks.
She was being surprisingly civil tonight, from the moment my heart stopped beating when I saw her on the stairs and helped her up.
I swore her touch had left a slow burn against my palm.
To now, as we talked to the other partygoers.
Well, as civil as the Wicked Witch of the Upper West Side could be.
Everyone seemed to love her, though. Everyone knew exactly who she was.
She knew how to work a room, too. She obviously saved her witchyness for me.
A special privilege I wasn’t sure I liked that I had earned.
I tried not to be enthralled by her smile or the ease she had in talking to everyone, but me.
Was that jealousy I detected? I swallowed it down with the bourbon I held in my hand.
“How do you feel about your father’s retirement?” someone asked her.
“I miss him, but I know he’s exactly where he’s meant to be now,” said Gabriella with a sly smile.
“And where is that?” they asked curiously.
“On the golf course.”
Everyone seemed to be in stitches over her little joke. I joined in with a small chuckle.
“No, but really. I miss him,” she said, placing her hand on her father’s forearm and giving a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been working side by side for almost ten years now. I’m so proud of everything he’s built, and that will continue to hopefully be built.”
Had it really been that long? She must have started right out of college, learning the business from the inside out from the very best person to teach it to her.
Her own father. The CEO. Her disappointment made a small amount of sense now, but what was done was done.
I was the CEO. Her father was the one who made that decision. I wasn’t about to second-guess myself.
“Thank you, honey,” said her father, somewhat uncomfortably. He looked across the room and seemed to see someone he knew. He patted Gabriella’s hand. “I see Mr. Rosenthrap. I’ll leave you to it,” he said, looking between the two of us.
I could tell Gabriella was uncomfortable for a split second, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of being left alone with me, even though we were in a crowd of five other people.
“So, Mr. White,” said the woman closest to me, her eyes blinking slowly up at me.
She was probably a good twenty years older than me, though you almost couldn’t tell from all the facelifts.
They didn’t hide her sagging neck or age-spotted hands though.
“What are your plans for Harold Enterprises?” she cooed, as she sidled in closer to me.
Gabriella watched on in pure entertainment, taking a sip of her champagne.
“Making it bigger and better,” I said assuredly.
“I like bigger and better,” said the woman, trailing her fingers up my arm.
I could have sworn Gabriella choked on her champagne. I shot her a look, and saw her eyes were watering and dancing with delight.
“Yes, well, Mr. Harold has built an empire that I intend to continue growing. I doubt I will ever fill his shoes, though.”
“Agreed,” said Gabriella under her breath, but no one seemed to hear. She had balls, I would give her that.
Before the woman made another move on me, her husband came to retrieve her, luring her away with another glass of wine she surely didn’t need.
“I thought she was going to eat me alive,” I said, pulling at the collar of my shirt.
“Too bad she didn’t,” said Gabriella before walking away.
I watched her go, her bare back warm under the chandelier lights.
She was making a bee-line for her father as if she had something urgent to say, and I had the urge to know what.
I casually followed after her, giving nods and smiles to the rest of the partygoers who would stop and murmur to themselves.
It was as if they were trying to assess me, figure out if I were right for the job.
“The band is great, Mr. Howard,” I said, as I stepped up beside Gabriella, who hadn’t gotten a word out yet.
She looked up at me, irritated.
“Gabriella actually found them,” he said, looking on at the band who was playing an upbeat number.
“You have a good ear,” said an elderly man I assumed was Mr. Rosenthrap.
“Thank you, Ronald,” said Gabriella warmly before smugly side-eyeing me.
“Mr. Rosenthrap, I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to meet the new man in charge,” said Mr. Harold, gesturing to me.
The old man eyed me speculatively like he was Mr. Monopoly looking through his monocle.
“Chandler White,” I said with a grin, holding out my hand.
He took it hesitantly and shook it limply. “You’re young,” he said.
“Not in here,” I said, tapping my head.
I heard a “pfft” come from Gabriella, but ignored her.
“Big shoes to fill, sonny. Big shoes.”
I nodded and was about to reassure him, but he turned back to Gabriella and her father.
Old geezer. He continued talking with Gabriella, laughing at her jokes, and I could see how effortless it was for her.
How easily these people trusted her and loved her.
She had been a part of the company since birth, practically.
For once, I felt like the odd man out, and I didn’t like it. I felt like I had to work that much harder to make myself known, especially in the company of the ex-CEO’s daughter who showed up looking like that. I could see the eyes of the room follow her. I had to prove that I belonged here.
I shot back the rest of my whiskey before prowling for another from the bar.
I wasn’t looking to get shit-faced, but I just needed to calm my growing nerves.
I wasn’t sure if it was the tension between Gabriella and me, or the unfamiliar feeling of being an outsider for once.
That old man had really gotten under my skin.
“Make it a double,” I told the bartender as I held up two fingers.
I swallowed the warm, amber liquid, and felt it burn down my throat.
I turned away from the bar and scanned the room.
I felt eyes on me, but they were from the women at the party.
I knew what they were thinking, and I knew I could easily take one of them home tonight, but it wasn’t the sort of admiration I wanted right now.
I wanted to be known for more, but Mr. Howard had proved I had big shoes to fill.
I joined Gabriella and Mr. Howard again, now surrounded by an entirely new group of people.
I put my game face on. When I could, I threw in a few of my best charming quips, gaining some laughs and the attention of the group.
I could tell it was irritating the hell out of Gabriella as she looked at me with the familiar look of daggers in her eyes.
It was a look I had come to know and love.
Another thing I loved was how her chest would flush each time I interjected myself into a conversation.
I was very pleased with myself for that fact.
The band’s song soon faded and a man in a white tuxedo stepped up the microphone to announce that dinner would be served now. Everyone began finding their table, looking at the little folded cards that sat atop the white linen tablecloths dancing under the flicker of the candlelight.
“We’re over here,” said Mr. Howard, gesturing for us to follow him to the head table sitting under one of the largest paintings in the room.
It was an image of Ares, the God of war.
It seemed fitting given the circumstances.
I spotted my name in calligraphy and saw that the one next to it read “Gabriella Howard.”
Of course.
I turned to her, but before I could offer to pull her chair out and put on a show of chivalry, she pulled it out herself and sat down in a huff.
I sat down beside her, sandwiching her between me and her father, who seemed to shoot her a warning look.
She looked wildly uncomfortable. Despite working together the past week, this was probably the closest we had ever been and for a long amount of time.
I felt the heat radiating off her, the smell of her sweet perfume tickling my senses.
The tension between our bodies was palpable.
For me, it was purely sexual. For her, purely dislike.
If we had to sit through a stuffy dinner together, I was going to have my fun. I had been on my best behavior all night, but now I could get away with saying whatever I wanted and it only being for her to hear. I had every intention of riling her up.
“That’s quite a dress,” I said.
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of champagne.
“Not one for compliments?”
“Not from you,” she muttered.
The waiters in their white uniforms approached the table, each placing the first course in front of us. Caviar on intricately garnished plates. I reached for my fork and took a bite, savoring the taste on my tongue.
“Not hungry?” I asked, seeing Gabriella still sitting rigidly and making no move to eat.
“Lost my appetite.”
“That’s too bad. It’s quite the spread.” I shrugged.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said, turning slightly toward me and narrowing her gaze. Up close, I could see the two freckles that almost kissed just below her left eye. My gaze fell there momentarily before looking up.
She raised a perfectly arched brow as she waited for my answer.
“Enjoying what? The caviar, the open bar, or your father’s shining praise?”
“You’re unbearable.” She shook her head.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Everyone seems to like me.”
Except for that Mr. Monopoly fellow.
“That’s because they don’t know you.”
“And you do?” I tilted my head
“I know enough to know you don’t belong here. You don’t deserve this.” She waved her hand, gesturing around the room.
“Honey, if you deserved it, you’d have it. Take it up with the big guy.” I nodded toward her father, who was deep in conversation with the man next to him.
Gabriella clenched her jaw and took another sip of champagne, her fingers turning white as they held the stem of the glass.
“Yes. Drink up. That will help your feelings of disappointment,” I sneered. I knew it was an asshole thing to say as soon as the words left my mouth.
Without looking at me, Gabriella set her champagne glass down on the table loudly, causing a few people to jump in their chairs. She pushed away from the table, swiftly picking up her gown and walking away with an apologetic “excuse me” to the table.
Fuck. I had gone too far.