Chapter 9
“B REAKFAST IS READY.”
Carrah’s eyes popped open and went to the intercom speaker on the wall. Someone had been in her room. Last she checked, she’d cut off the intercom to avoid amplified commands from her parents or the house staff.
She cursed, debating a hot meal to fill her empty stomach or submission to the grogginess that wanted to pull her back under. Sleep seemed better since it had subdued the pain that was now beginning to radiate from her ankle. Only, she didn’t want to further irritate her family. After sneaking into her room last night and missing family dinner, she’d received her fill of messages condemning her avoidance of them.
In slow motion, Carrah tussled with the covers as she rolled from her side to her back. The blank white canvas of the ceiling was in complete contrast to the animation of her mind. Of all the mornings she woke up in the Shores, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so restless. The basement of her mind couldn’t stop contemplating the contract offer about to expire from Hurston House, her ankle ached, and when she finally did drift off into sleep, her dreams were haunted by bright eyes that belonged to Christopher Chennault.
Ava was right—Carrah owed him an apology for the way she went to his office. Maybe one was in order for how she had reacted to him on the field… and she still didn’t understand why she’d been so upset over him getting her to a cart when she truly couldn’t stand upright. The loop of what-ifs restarted. Instead of riding it again, Carrah threw the cover off and got out of the bed.
She made quick work in the bathroom of becoming presentable for the breakfast table and then threw on a pair of sweats and fuzzy socks. She had to conceal the aftereffects of the disastrous kickball game with her friends in an effort to sidestep retelling her embarrassment. Besides, a story featuring her injury thanks to the son of her father’s longest-standing rival might really trigger an all-out war.
“Morning.” Carrah attempted to camouflage her grimace with a grin while wiping the perspiration from her forehead. It had taken her more than five minutes to make a one-minute journey down the stairs.
“Good morning, Auntie,” Carrah’s little four-year-old niece, Zoe, singsonged as she entered the full dining room.
“Smells delicious.” Carrah sniffed the buttermilk of the hot biscuits at the middle of the table, kissed Zoe’s cheek, and then gingerly moved to her seat at the table. The only empty chair belonged to her younger brother.
“Glad you could finally join us,” her father said sweetly, smiling as she scooted in to the table and reached for the orange juice. “You disappeared after the party and then stayed hidden all of yesterday.”
“Yes, I, too, am glad you could finally join us. I wanted to know if you and your friends enjoyed the party.” Her mother smiled before taking a bite of creamy cheese grits, which made Carrah’s mouth water.
However, the cross expression that came from Aubrey accompanied by the clink of Beau’s fork being purposely dropped to his plate before he gave her a death stare made Carrah’s appetite retreat. She was acutely aware that leaving the party before the cake was served and purposely avoiding them all of yesterday would draw criticism. She didn’t care at the time because she had a life to figure out.
Even now as her little niece sat humming “Shoo Fly,” demanding everyone’s attention, Carrah felt the lyrics in her soul. She wished she could tell her siblings not to bother her. Since she couldn’t outright say it, she began singing along with Zoe while fixing her plate and hoped her siblings would catch the hint.
The second Carrah opened her mouth to devour the warm, flaky biscuit she’d loaded with jam, Beau sneered, “I told you I needed reports yesterday. You didn’t send them.” Her hint was clearly missed and his curt tone made her wish she’d have simply told him not this morning before she sat down. Carrah set her biscuit on her plate and focused on Beau since it was clear he had more to say. “What were you doing that was more important? I’ve been after you for weeks to complete the product brief. I told Dad you weren’t ready for this position.”
“Zoe.” Carrah’s mother stood and walked to her granddaughter’s chair. “Come with Glammy.” The two made a quick escape from the room, leaving Carrah with her father, Beau, Aubrey, and Aubrey’s husband, Sean, who helped manage company operations.
Beau blew a hard breath. “In case you were unaware, Noir needs this product to go to market ASAP.”
Before Carrah could really feel bad for neglecting her corporate responsibility by spending the entirety of yesterday consumed by her own selfish actions, her father tossed his napkin on his plate and leaned into the table. His stern demeanor stifled the air around them, creating pin-drop silence.
He cleared his throat. “You tiptoed from the party. Disappeared all yesterday, didn’t even care to reply to our messages, and then you arrive late to my breakfast table.”
“Since when do you keep tabs on me?” Indignation had Carrah in a choke hold as she raised her chin in defiance before she snatched the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table.
“Since your brother told me that he’s been waiting three weeks for you to submit the specs and formulation for market. Perhaps Beau was right. Maybe we promoted you too soon. I don’t think you grasp how important it is for Noir to have another product ready for retail distribution right now.”
“I understood the importance of new products four years ago when I started working for the company. If we are being completely honest, the epiphany hit me way before then in undergrad when I knowingly chose to use a competitor’s products. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve pitched several new cosmetics that were shot down by all of you.”
Melvin pushed his plate to the side and scanned the table before focusing back on Carrah. “Drop the attitude. You’re twenty-seven, not ten, and should be able to endure a business discussion without becoming so defensive. The bottom line is that you are brilliant at innovating and forecasting the needs of the beauty population. However, the follow-through on the admin side has not met my expectations.”
“Have you stopped to consider that while everyone at this table continued with their normal day-to-day, I completed my job functions in addition to caring for Mom? Let’s also remember that three years ago I recommended diversification of product lines. Had we started then, we would not be scrambling to develop and deliver. Your expectations are unreasonable.”
“My darling daughter, you have always had your own opinions and I respect them. However, regardless of the way you feel, the company requires more of you right now. So, if you don’t mind pausing your summer to get the product brief over with the R & D approvals, I’d appreciate it. I’m certain Aubrey would as well. There is a tremendous amount of work that goes into the product packaging and marketing campaign.”
Carrah released a long, hard breath. She was deflated by the inequality of expectations. Her privilege had allowed her to leapfrog more tenured chemists and become the head of R & D. The promotion was meant to be a pacifier… a distraction for her to overlook them saying no to her concepts for new fragrance, hair, and skin care products. If only they had listened then instead of granting her false authority now.
The reality punctured Carrah and forced her to accept that her family’s business was taking priority over her life, again. She shouldn’t care more for a manuscript that hadn’t given her anything. Not when the essence of Noir, which is what gave them everything, relied upon her for the future. She conceded. “Of course, Daddy, right away.”
She avoided eye contact with her siblings, who wore self-satisfied grins from witnessing her submission to their father’s authority. Any other time she might’ve argued and told both Aubrey and Beau how to go to hell with gasoline draws on, but this was different.
Her father nodded, accepting her response, and then pushed his chair back from the table to get to his feet. “Oh, one more thing. Trent mentioned that you hardly had two words for him. Are you purposely trying to sabotage your future? The boy begged for your hand in marriage, he’s your brother’s friend, a great young man from a good family who—”
“Why are you playing so hard to get?” Beau huffed, cutting their father off with his false authority. Of all her siblings, he was the one with the grudge. He’d always been annoyed by the closeness she had to their father from sharing a love of chemistry.
It wasn’t a coincidence that he questioned her promotion or failed to support the products she pitched. “You embarrassed Trent at our mother’s celebration in front of your friends. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since you were late to lineup, missed the cutting of her cake, and can’t seem to follow standard operating procedures for helping us get a product to market.”
Carrah pushed up from her chair. “I’m not interested in marrying a man that can’t keep his dick in his pants. Is that why your wife is asking for a divorce, Beauregard?” She mocked him, “Birds of a feather.”
“Carrah!” Aubrey exclaimed while gesturing to their father. “Must you have such a filthy mouth?”
“Stop trying to dictate what and how I say it, Aubrey.” Carrah glared at Aubrey. She then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and faced her father. “You and Mom have always shown us a loving, faithful marriage. He cheated on me an—”
“Once,” Beau uttered with nonchalance that made Carrah’s blood boil.
“Is that what he told you?” She huffed then took in a deep breath and released it slowly to steady her rising blood pressure. None of them knew how horrible Trent really was, and she was still too ashamed to confess the emotional abuse she survived. “Why do I deserve less?”
“You don’t.” Her father’s chin lowered to his chest as his hands slid into his pockets. His line of sight met her brother’s, and it seemed odd. Like they were communicating something she wasn’t allowed to know. “However, you do have to play nice. At least this weekend… your brother invited him to a seat at our table for the ball.”
She swallowed hard, wishing she could sprint from the room, except her injury made it impossible. Her ex’s judgment had given her body confidence issues and sexual insecurities. She would not ever return to a man who belittled her to ensure his ego remained large.
“I will not!”
Beau’s hand slammed against the table and shot to his feet. “You will because the survival of Noir depends on it. The alternative is watching the company be sold off piece by piece or us submitting to a takeover, and then you, my dear little sister, will have nothing left to inherit.”
A bark of laughter escaped Carrah. She looked around the table, unafraid to challenge her brother’s insanely cruel joke until she noted everyone’s face was pinched tight. Aubrey glanced at the ground while Beau pressed his lips into a firm line as if to double down on his proclamation.
Carrah’s knees buckled and then her ankle gave out. She gripped the edge of the tabletop, refusing to fall back into her chair as if she didn’t command a seat at this table. After finally having a chance to reinvigorate the pipelines with the development of new cosmetics, she refused to be reduced to a trophy for sale.
“Explain how we are in a position where you’re attempting to auction your sister to the highest bidder. Is that what financial gurus do?” Tears pooled in Carrah’s eyes as she awaited his reply. “Tell me,” she shouted.
Beau offered nothing. Not even an ounce of remorse etched into his face. At least her sister shed a tear. However, it wasn’t Aubrey who owed her an explanation. Carrah turned to their father. He looked off for a second then manned up and met her line of sight.
“In order to keep the company afloat until you revamped the product lines for distribution, we cut a deal with BSB, and allowed them to inv—”
“Time-out.” Carrah cleared her throat as her brain scrambled to catch up. “You cut a deal with Butler Savings Bank… Trent’s family’s bank?”
Her father nodded in slow motion. “I had to or we would’ve already been taken over. Everything that your mother’s family worked hard to build—gone.”
Beau got to his feet and moved to Carrah’s side. His hand rested on her shoulder. “That arrangement was made two years ago. I’m sorry we should’ve told you sooner. No one expected Mom to get sick. It would’ve been too much at one time. We all saw how her health affected you and we couldn’t demand more. But they are a bank and they want return on their investment before it is completely lost.”
Carrah shrugged away from her brother. She began filling in the words he failed to say and clutched the bottom of her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“They are willing to allow time for your innovation to redefine product lines if you accept Trent’s marriage proposal. The alternative is a hostile takeover. People do change, Carrah. The boy has apologized and promised it would never happen again.”
Finally, after the intensity of silence constricted the walls around them, her father said, “Aimer showcased your genius while proving we were wrong to table your ideas. Only, it was already too late. Had I disregarded your sibling’s jealousy of giving you too much power too soon and allowed you the creative freedom you requested, we might not be in this situation.” Both Aubrey and Beau tucked their heads down, avoiding their father’s gaze.
Carrah shed one tear and refused to offer more. She didn’t want to sacrifice anything else. “Why me?”
“Because”—Aubrey leaned over the table—“you’re the wholesome HBCU, STEM girl grad that reigned as a Zulu Queen and could’ve been crowned Miss America, but chose to work for the family company. You hail from one of the South’s most influential families and our connections run so deep that they blanket his family’s tarnished brand and messy divorce. Trent would launch into the political spotlight with instant capital with you at his side.”
Aubrey’s marketing prowess was undeniable. Like Jesus turning water into wine, she’d make shit smell good. Only, if Carrah hadn’t ventured into therapy while caring for their mother, she would’ve never discovered her hidden talents. She realized her potential and wouldn’t sacrifice it ever again. “Daddy, I love you and Noir. But I love myself more.” There was a quake in her voice she struggled to steady. “Ironically, Trent taught me that lesson the hard way.” She took a few steps back, withstanding the pain coiling around her lower leg, and turned to leave because the burden they wanted her to carry was breaking her. “Ask him how many women he slept with while we were a couple. Trent is without integrity and definitely has no loyalty, so whatever schemes you’re cooking up, I hate to tell you that he isn’t the man.” She left the table, but then stopped as disgust nipped away at her flesh. “I won’t ever compromise myself again,” she called over her shoulder without looking back, “especially for an inheritance.”