Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
GAbrIEL
Iassumed Charlotte and I would be on the same flight on Sunday afternoon, arriving first thing Monday morning in London.
After all, it was logical for two executives traveling on company business to do so together, especially if flying out of San Diego, which didn’t have as many options as a larger airport.
But logic and Charlotte evidently didn’t mix.
She’d flown out the night before and was probably already rested and settled by the time I touched down, bleary-eyed from the overnight haul.
By the time I walked into Juniper, now Arrow’s, London office, carry-on suitcase rolling beside me, my annoyance had grown to an epic level.
For someone who’d spouted we were all one team, she seemed to have been unable to wait to establish her own connection here. But she was in for a big surprise.
This was my turf, or at least it had been for the better part of a year.
The glass atrium, the sleek conference rooms, the familiar faces offering warm greetings.
They remembered me, not her. I’d built credibility here, earned respect, and Charlotte was about to step into a room full of people who trusted my judgment first.
For once, I had the advantage.
But there she was when I arrived, standing near reception in a pale blue dress skimming her figure in all the ways I had no business noticing.
The neckline was modest, the style professional, but she wore it with an ease that made it impossible not to see the beautiful woman beneath the title.
Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, catching the light as she laughed softly at something the receptionist said.
I hated the way every part of me went alert whenever I was in her presence. She was my boss, the acting CEO, the one throwing wrenches into my carefully built career path. And yet my body didn’t seem to care about the fact she was the enemy.
Mentally, I told myself to shove my body’s sensations aside. Attraction was a distraction I couldn’t afford when the position of CEO was on the line. Even less did I want it to interfere here, in the place I was supposed to own the advantage.
“Gabriel.” She turned toward me with a composed smile that somehow landed like a challenge. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I answered, my voice more clipped than I intended.
The receptionist gave me a polite nod, but his eyes darted back to Charlotte as though she was the one he cared most about.
Charlotte gathered her folder from the counter and motioned toward the corridor. “Shall we?”
The phrase was simple, neutral, professional, but it carried an edge, as though she was perfectly aware she was stepping into my turf and daring me to object.
I fell into step beside her, every inch of the polished floor and every familiar face reminding me this office had once been mine to command.
The conference room was just as I remembered it, with its floor-to-ceiling windows displaying a view of the Thames, a sleek walnut table polished to a shine, leather chairs that squeaked if you leaned too far back.
I’d held dozens of strategy sessions here, late nights fueled by takeout and adrenaline.
This was where I’d proven myself with Juniper.
The setting reminded me I’d have to prove myself again with Arrow.
The London team filed in, warm handshakes and quick greetings coming my way. I caught more than a few sidelong glances at Charlotte as people settled. Some curious, some cautious.
She didn’t flinch. She met each introduction with the same steady handshake and eye contact, even managing a few personal touches proving she’d done her research.
We were ten minutes in when John Elliott made his move. He sat halfway down the table, all self-importance in his dated suit, his crossed arms making it clear he’d been forced to attend.
“With all due respect.” His voice dripped with condescension. “I don’t see why we’re rehashing strategy that’s worked for years. Juniper’s London office is profitable, and our clients are loyal. Change for the sake of change is totally unnecessary.”
Fucking John. Testing boundaries in front of everyone. Normally, I’d have shut him down myself. But I was petty enough to enjoy Charlotte being put on the spot and curious to see how she would handle him.
Charlotte leaned forward slightly, her tone leaving no doubt she didn’t have the patience to entertain his commentary.
“Thank you for the perspective, John. You’re right.
The London office has been profitable, and that’s a credit to the people in this room.
But let me be clear: change isn’t optional.
Our clients expect innovation, and our competitors are circling.
We can’t stand still because it’s comfortable or adopt the ‘why fix it when it’s not broken’ mentality.
Doing nothing is the same as falling behind. ”
She let the words hang for a beat, her gaze steady on him. The silence stretched long enough to make the air uncomfortable.
Her next words were spoken in a voice that was soft but direct, leaving no doubt she wasn’t about to take anyone’s shit.
“Of course, you all have a choice to make. You can watch from the sidelines while others move forward, or you can climb on board and understand the way you’ve done things in the past will be changing. ”
A couple of the managers exchanged looks; one even stifled a smile. John’s face mottled, his jaw tight. He muttered something about being “on board with what’s best for the company.” I believe it fell on deaf ears. She’d already moved on to the presentation.
After a full day of meetings, we had a client dinner meeting scheduled. Once again, Charlotte was a step ahead of me, and I ended up heading down to the lobby alone.
As I crossed the street, I scanned for our sedan and found her standing beside the car, chatting with the driver.
He was a young guy, grinning like he’d been handed front-row seats to an Oasis concert, and she was smiling back at him.
The kind of smile I’d never seen aimed in my direction.
The flash of annoyance stirring in me was stupid, and I knew it, but it didn’t stop the sensation.
She spotted me and gestured. “Charles, this is Gabriel, the COO of Arrow. Gabriel, this is Charles, our driver for the evening.”
Charles gave me a polite nod and took my suitcase to put in the trunk since I hadn’t had time to check into the hotel yet. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
I slid into the back of the slick Mercedes, watching as she did the same on the other side, trying not to dwell on how easily she seemed to charm people. “I take it Charles has driven you before?”
Without looking up from her phone, she answered, “No, we met five minutes ago.”
I frowned. “Being nice to everyone is just your thing?”
Her gaze lifted, steady and unruffled. “Nice? No. Kind, yes, absolutely.”
“What’s the difference?” I didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in my voice.
“Being nice is asking someone else to validate you. Kindness is an action.”
“I don’t get it.”
She sighed but expanded. “Nice is surface level, like smiling so people will call you pleasant, agreeing so no one thinks you’re difficult.
Nice depends on someone else’s approval.
Kindness is an action. It’s what you do whether or not anyone notices, or regardless of if it’s appreciated.
Sometimes it’s taking the extra five minutes to make sure someone feels seen.
And sometimes it’s giving difficult feedback.
That can be a kindness because in the long run, it’s what someone needs to hear to improve.
That’s the difference between nice and kind. ”
I considered her words, my brow furrowed. “Kindness can still be perceived as weakness.”
She chuckled softly, the sound maddening in its confidence. “I’m aware of the perception. But molding myself into what other people think I should be? That would be the definition of weakness. Kindness and rigor can coexist. In fact, I’d argue the best leaders can effectively balance both.”
My head shook before I realized I was doing so. “I really don’t understand you.”
Her smile widened, this time directed at me, and it hit like a shot to the solar plexus. “Luckily for both of us, I don’t need you to.”
And damn if I didn’t grin back, despite myself.
We arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting the client in twenty minutes. The place exuded old-world elegance, as many did in London, with its dark wood paneling, white tablecloths, and golden light from chandeliers overhead.
A man in a tailored charcoal suit was already waiting in the foyer when we arrived.
He lit up like a kid at Christmas the moment Charlotte walked through the door.
His sharp features softened as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks, one, then the other.
Meanwhile, his cologne was as heavy as the gold chain around his neck.
“Charlotte.” In a thick French accent, his voice was velvet but carried an edge of practiced charm. “You grow lovelier each time I see you.”
She smiled, but unlike the warm expression she’d given our driver earlier, this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nice to see you too, Jean Luc. This is Gabriel Chambers, our new chief operating officer. Gabriel, this is Jean Luc, the chief financial officer of Weber Entertainment.”
His handshake was firm, his eyes sharp, assessing me in an instant. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. Your father owns Chambers Technology, yes?”
The question was a familiar one. “Yes, he does.” Most people let the answer suffice. But Jean Luc wasn’t most people.
“I take it you don’t get along?” His brows lifted as if he were testing a theory, not actually asking.
“On the contrary, we’re very close, and I respect him deeply.” My tone was calm but practiced. “His company focuses more on services, while Juniper, now Arrow, specializes in infrastructure. Different lanes within the same industry.”
It was my standard line and was true enough, but it left out the reality of years of wanting to contribute to my father’s empire, only to have my creative ideas dismissed. The actual reasons cut deeper than I cared to share with a man like Jean Luc.
He shrugged, clearly unconcerned whether my answer was genuine. The jab had been thrown because he could, not because he cared about the answer. “Working with family is overrated. Speaking of which…” He turned, his smile broadening. “My uncle has arrived.”
William Laurent, CEO of Weber Entertainment for three decades, entered with the steady presence of a man accustomed to commanding a room.
His reputation as a bulldog preceded him.
He was unyielding in business, feared by competitors.
And yet, the moment he saw Charlotte, his entire expression softened.
“Charlotte, my dear,” William greeted warmly, his French accent more tempered than Jean Luc’s. He kissed both her cheeks. “I appreciate you coming all the way to London to see me.”
“It’s a pleasure, William.” She introduced me politely before the ma?tre d’ led us to a corner table draped in linen.
By instinct, I reached for Charlotte’s chair, only to have her hand press lightly over mine. Through a clenched smile, she whispered, “Please don’t. I have it.”
Fuck. I’d done it out of habit. It was a simple gesture to pull out her chair, meant as courtesy and one I’d perform for any woman in my family, including my daughter. I hadn’t been thinking of Charlotte as the one in charge at this table.
“How is Simone?” Charlotte asked William, her tone warmer now.
“She’s doing well. She told me to give you her best.” William’s eyes crinkled with affection. “And how is your son, Austin? Has he decided which college he’ll play ball for?”
Charlotte’s smile this time was genuine. “He’s great, thank you. Next year will be the big round of campus tours, but for now he’s focused on his short list and keeping his grades up while balancing baseball.”
I filed away the nugget of information, itching to discover more about her personal life.
Ten minutes later, the conversation flowed with Jean Luc chuckling at something Charlotte said and William leaning forward, utterly charmed. The realization hit me like a stone:
I was the third wheel.