Chapter 4
“C HRIS.” S HAYLA BUZZED his desk phone.
He disconnected the virtual call and sank back into his chair, then swiveled just enough to sit looking out onto his view of downtown. Hill House sat at the top of the hill whereas Donnelly Park was in the near distance at the bottom, and the quaint shops that lined the city streets were as charming as they had been when he first learned to appreciate the history of the place his family called home three months out of the year.
“Yes,” he finally responded. The hustle and bustle of New York City streets may be missing from outside, but not within his office walls. This was the life he chose, and he wouldn’t trade it no matter how much his father had recently begun painting the legacy picture for him to head up the family business.
“I couldn’t get Gerron. His assistant said he was on location shooting so expect a return call tomorrow. I was also unable to reach Ms. Hamilton.” She paused. Chris sensed there was something else. Instead of asking, he waited. “However, Celeste Demi is on the line regarding Alonzo’s contract.”
Boom. There it was. His corporate nemesis on a day when he somehow felt a little off-kilter after having his schedule highjacked and being sabotaged at the breakfast table by his siblings. Most irritating was that he still hadn’t made contact with Ava to confirm the mystery referral. He didn’t do surprises in the business world. That was what made him good, hard to poke holes in. Shayla’s hesitation was from knowing him the way she did. “Very well,” he exhaled loudly. “Shayla, have you found any information on Seraphina Charles?”
“I, uh… No, Chris I haven’t yet.”
Without another word, she disconnected and his line began ringing again. He shot Ava another quick text. Then he sat up in his chair, cleared his throat, and answered the line.
Carrah pulled up to the red light at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Donnelly Street. She gazed at the corner, admiring the Chennault Building with its stately arched windows and the painted brick exterior as if she had never seen it before when in actuality she had driven and walked past it more than a million times. The building had been the first bank for the town of Mount Dora, and thus a cornerstone. No matter where you were in town, at some point you would pass by it.
The light turned green, and Carrah eased her foot off the gas. She made a slow turn onto Fifth, and then searched for a parking spot. Less than three shop doors down from the Chennault Building was an empty space. She cut the engine to her car, but then pulled down her visor mirror and took a deep breath.
She wanted—no needed—something from Chris. Not anything big, just a simple review of her contract and advice on her rights was all. It would help her make a decision that could change the rest of her life.
“Will he help me?” she asked herself out loud.
Afraid to ponder the answer, given their families’ rivalry and the way she had treated him over the years, she simply grabbed up the items his assistant had asked her to bring and exited the car. Her pace up the sidewalk to the entry doors was slow. There were so many thoughts running amok in her head that when she raised her hand to pull the handle of the door, she dropped it back down and turned away.
What was she doing? She was an Andrews and he was a Chennault. This was more taboo than asking for unsweet tea or missing first Sunday communion. Forget that his client roster included movie stars, athletes, models, and singers. Not to mention that he only accepted referrals, and that didn’t guarantee representation.
A pinned-up breath finally escaped her lips. None of it mattered. She only wanted him. Based on the research she’d stayed up doing last night, she learned that he was a mover and shaker in the industry. He’d negotiated significant contracts that had launched careers. It was possible he could do the same for her and then she could discover the life that was waiting for her if she took a chance and followed her own dreams.
Carrah closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then turned to grab the handle. She stepped inside, swallowing her pride, and became captivated by the way the marble on the floor was also on the walls as wainscoting. Then, of course, there were original gold chandeliers, trim details that rivaled buildings in the French Quarter, and preserved teller cages that were bronze with brass grilles. She had heard the rumors of how consideration had been given to safeguarding the past without compromising the foundation or opulence of the old structure. This was her first time inside, and she was upset that she’d allowed family prejudices to delay her experience.
The awestruck feeling subsided when an older man bumped into her making his way into the real estate office that occupied the first floor. Carrah scanned her email from Chris’s assistant once more and then bypassed the elevator for the stairs. She climbed the steps one at a time, taking in the full details of the elaborate metal filigree railing while attempting to ignore the subconscious thoughts flooding her mind. The second she entered the door labeled CHENNAULT GROUP , her contemplations ceased. There was a sense of security that wrapped around her as she made way to the receptionist desk.
“Good afternoon,” Carrah said as she walked past a few chairs to the small reception desk.
The dark-haired woman looked up from her desk and smiled. “Afternoon!” The woman stood and made her way around the desk. Her designer digs screamed high fashion and were indicative of the high-profile clients the firm serviced. She extended her hand to Carrah. “You must be Ms. Charles.”
“I… uh, yes.” Carrah recovered fast. For a second she’d forgotten that she used a pen name in hopes that Chris wouldn’t automatically dismiss her request to meet. “Seraphina Charles.” She gripped the woman’s hand and shook it firmly. “And you must not be from around here, Shayla?” They both snickered as the woman nodded, confirming she was who Carrah had spoken with over the phone. “Assistants from these parts don’t dress in Armani blouses and those killer Louboutin heels.”
Shayla blushed a little while sizing Carrah up from head to toe. “I guess a woman like you clad in an ensemble that could only come from Neiman Marcus easily recognizes these labels. I hope it was a compliment.”
“It is!” An awkward pause filled the space between them. “Again, my apologies for all the messages and emails. I’m on a tight timeline and I wanted to meet with Mr. Chennault as soon as possible.”
“No need.” Shayla returned to the other side of her desk. “You’re here. This isn’t the easiest place to get to and he’s made the time. Did you bring the materials I requested?”
Carrah dug into her bag and pulled out the manuscript and a copy of the offer that was sent from the publishing house and handed it over to Shayla.
“Thank you. He’s running a little behind. Have a seat, and as soon as he’s ready, I’ll come and grab you.”
Carrah turned and claimed an empty chair in the lobby. She pulled her phone out to check her messages and saw tons of notifications from Beau, Aubrey, and Trent. Instead of swiping up to read, she threw the phone back in her purse. She suspected Beau and Aubrey were calling to harass her over the email she had sent this morning further delaying the product review. She was too busy researching Chris and how she could explore options with her manuscript to prepare the specs on the product.
As for her ex, she cared not to think about him. She was still baffled that her father had invited him into her sacred place and more confused by his wanting to reconcile. Carrah would never go back to Trenton Thomas Butler. Not after he went out of his way to make her feel inadequate.
The door to the office opened and saved Carrah from reliving the nightmares she associated with Trent. She then watched a tall, mocha-skinned woman with a pixie cut obnoxiously dripping in Gucci sashay in and go to the desk. If her mother or her sister had seen the woman, they would call her a wannabe. Camille had a firm belief that people who broadcasted designer labels like a mannequin in a department store had new, little, or no money. She had taught Carrah and her siblings at a young age to mix and match iconic fashion brands without being ostentatious.
The only exception was a purse. However, there were limits.
The woman standing at the desk going back and forth with Shayla hadn’t got the memo.
“I said, I need to see Chris now!” Her haughty voice rang loud in the small space before she proceeded to pass Shayla.
Shayla jumped up from her chair and blocked the woman’s path. “I’m afraid it cannot be this minute, Heather. He’s wrapping up a call and is late for his next appointment.” She gestured at Carrah.
Heather whipped around and met Carrah’s line of sight. Any other day Carrah might’ve asked the woman what she was looking at. Today, she forced herself to play nice and picked up a magazine from the table next to her.
“If ever something is to get done, I have to do it myself,” Carrah heard Heather scold Shayla. “Why he pays you to do a job, I’ll never understand.” She huffed loud and then proceeded to make her way back into the seating area. “Excuse me.”
Carrah flipped to the next page of the magazine, intentionally disregarding the woman. She saw under her lids that Heather was now standing in front of her expecting her attention. She’d make her wait as payback for the nasty attitude she witnessed toward Shayla and saturating the air with negative energy when Carrah was desperate for good vibes. Once she finished reading the caption of a picture that was less than memorable, she glanced up.
Heather recoiled. Her pretty face scrunched as she scanned Carrah. In spite of the expression resting on her face, Carrah thought the woman reminded her of the models in magazine ads. It was possible she was, given the talent Chris represented.
“I’m in that issue.” Heather pointed to the magazine Carrah was holding. “I believe it was a Lauren ad.”
“I beg your pardon,” Carrah replied with the amiability of a saint, despite the woman committing one of her most egregious pet peeves of being braggadocious. As if not being rude was enough, Heather displayed a self-satisfying ego that reminded her of Trent.
“Hi,” Heather clipped. “I’m Heather Jensen.”
Carrah stood, tossing the magazine back to the table, and extended her hand. “Seraphina Charles.”
Heather cleared her throat while taking time to complete a full body scan of Carrah. “I’m sorry to do this, but I need to see Chris. I’m his girlfriend and it’s urgent I speak with him. Do you mind if I take a few minutes before your appointment to see him?”
It was Carrah’s turn to assess the woman in front of her. She’d never been around Chris enough to know the women he dated. For all she knew, he was like Gavin, who dated countless women. He had the looks, smarts, and wallet to be a playboy. Yet here was this woman he’d brought to the Shores. That seemed more committed than she would have expected from him.
“I still have to check with Chris, Heather,” Shayla called from her desk.
“Shayla,” Heather snarled, “mind your place. I told—”
“It’s fine, Shayla.” Carrah spoke to Shayla with an even tone before cutting her gaze back to Heather.
“Thanks,” Heather offered in a nonchalant manner as she took an empty seat in the lobby. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Carrah couldn’t resist walking through the door Heather had opened. She knew better, but old habits sometimes died hard with people like this Heather Jensen. “Ah, no, I don’t believe we mingle in the same circles.”
“You seem familiar. Are you a model? Is that why you’re here to see my Chris?”
“Modeling is seemingly uninteresting to me. I’m here on professional business.”
A snort from the opposite side of the room made Carrah’s lips curl into a small grin as she sat crossing her legs. Minutes passed and the tension in the air crackled. There was something about the woman in front of her that raised the hairs on her arm. If Chris had been her friend, she would tell him. But since their relationship was not on those terms, it wasn’t her place.
“He just got off the line,” Shayla announced. Heather got to her feet and started toward her. “A minute, Heather. I need to speak with him first.”
Heather plopped back down into a chair as Shayla slipped down a small hallway. The anxiety Carrah had escaped outside returned. She didn’t know Chris well enough to predict how he might react to her making up a name or asking for a favor. One thing she knew was that, like her, he was raised in the ways of the old guard. He wouldn’t create a scene that neither of them couldn’t recover from… or so she hoped.