Chapter 32
brANDON
It’s only nine o’clock, and I’ve been at the gym for three hours. I pick up my cell and call Charlotte’s favorite florist.
“Good morning. Thrive Floristry. I’m Kristin. How can I help you today?”
Kristin is sweet, but she sounds like a recorded message rather than a human. “Hi, it’s Brandon Johns.”
“Good morning, Mr. Johns. Would you like us to send the same flowers to Charlotte today?”
Charlotte hates Mondays in the office. It’s as if the world has collapsed in two days, and everything needs immediate attention. I can only make her day brighter by doing the little things like sending flowers, especially her favorite pink peonies.
“No. I want the largest bunch of brightly-colored flowers. The ones that cause the least allergies, please.”
“I have the perfect flowers for you. Same address?” I smile at how they know what I need to cheer Charlotte since I have been sending flowers for the past three weeks.
“Yes, please. And can you add a note?”
“Certainly.”
“I love you.”
“Would you like any names added to the note, Mr. Johns?”
“No. She’ll know who they are from.”
“Charlotte will receive the flowers around eleven.”
“Thank you.”
I end the call and send Charlotte a message.
Do you want me to meet you for lunch? Your office. Dessert sorted.
It’s the first time I have written anything on a card that says those three words, and I want to see her face after the flowers arrive.
While lifting weights over the hour, I think of ways to make her happy. Instead of heading up to her office to see her after training, I shower and head into the city for a meeting with Franklin.
Ewan is visiting his parents on the East Coast. He’s gone all week, and I promised not to do anything risky. Charlotte has security, and most of my spare time, I’m with her. Today, I’m alone in my McLaren, and I have the music louder, revving her more than Ewan would when behind the wheel.
When I arrive at Hendricks Capital Management, the letters HCM take up most of the wall not occupied by glass. I punch in the code Franklin sent and enter the parking garage. Heading up the elevator, I mull over my words, knowing his time is valuable, as he squeezed me in between meetings.
When I reach his level, I walk into a large marble foyer with a single desk.
The woman stands and comes to greet me. “Brandon.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Hayley. We have met before.”
Her face looks familiar. “Hi, Hayley. Thanks for fitting me into his schedule.”
“When Franklin tells me you’re like family, then I make it happen.” She smiles at me. “Take a seat.”
I plop my ass on the leather sofa and glance at the magazines on the side table. I grin because these magazines are for show. Each one has a Hendricks featured on the cover, interviewed for different features.
The first magazine cover is LA Finance, featuring Franklin, along with his father, Carson Hendricks.
The next is Jobe on LA Real Estate, the next features Penny for her environmental remodeling ideas, and then an ART magazine featuring Giana.
Her studio is on the first level of the building.
Hoops magazine has Charlotte on the cover when she first became governor and looking like a boss in a white suit, arms folded.
She is standing in front of the LA Sharks sign.
There is even a magazine with Sophia on the cover, Black Tie Charity.
Shit. I must call Sophia as I agreed to a donation.
Lifting the next magazine, it’s a sports magazine featuring Byron on the cover with a basketball tucked under his arm, a determined look on his face.
The next is a hotel magazine, Stay and Play, and it features the opening of the Hendricks Hotel in Beverley Hills.
Zara and Jobe are on the cover. There is one more magazine. I lift it and freeze.
Me.
I remember doing this shoot years ago when I first moved to Chicago.
It was newsworthy, yet I hated every second and struggled to smile at the camera.
The photographer liked my poker face and kept saying, keep your game face.
It wasn’t my game face. I was fucking destroyed.
Yet the fact Franklin kept it means he never gave up on me.
My stomach is in knots about coming here, and now I feel like a bigger idiot that I didn’t try harder because this family always had my back.
There was always hope for Charlotte and me.
Even Jobe tried to help me see it.
“You have to be fucking kidding me.” I jump at the sound of Franklin’s thunderous voice echoing from behind the thick, double wooden doors.
Hayley looks at me and smiles. “You get used to it.”
I nod and place the magazine of myself on the top of the pile. Franklin is the composed one of the family, always patient and understanding. Charlotte told me not to be fooled. You never want to upset Franklin. With a voice like thunder, I get it.
Hayley picks up her phone. “Yes, Franklin. Okay.” She looks over at me. “Mr. Hendricks will see you now.”
“I can wait if he needs a moment.” Because I’d appreciate him taking a few deep breaths.
“He doesn’t have a spare moment.” She smiles and nods to his door.
Fuck.
I push open the large wooden door, which is heavier than it looks. I peer in, and Franklin is standing at a large window with his back to me. Dressed in a black suit, his short, dark hair around the collar, he looks out over the city as though pondering his life.
“Morning, Franklin.” He spins and walks around his desk to shake my hand. “I hope it’s not a bad time.”
He smiles and shakes my hand. “When you come to my office, it’s always a bad time.”
I jab a thumb over my shoulder. “I can go?”
“Take a seat, BJ.”
I immediately sit, and he leans his rear on the corner of his desk, casually crossing his ankles. It feels less formal this way, for which I’m thankful.
“I wanted some advice, but now it sounds dumb to take up your time.”
“Let me be the judge. I have just dealt with idiots who tried to fuck me up the ass.” He loosens his tie around his neck. “You’re not on my list of fuckwits, and it must be important to come here and speak to me. I assume it involves my sister?”
“Yes, sir.”
He frowns at me. “Since when do you call me sir?”
I look around at his opulent office, which is the size of a small apartment with the highest ceilings I have seen in a business room. “I dunno. It seems like I should be calling you sir, sitting here in this big-arse office and next to your big-arse desk.”
He grins. “You must have a big-arse problem.”
I smirk at the way he says arse instead of ass, trying to imitate my Aussie accent.
“Not really. I need a future after I finish playing ball. Something to set Charlotte and me up.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Before I ask if you popped the question because I hope not since it’s mere months since your reconciliation, is it premature to think you have a future together?”
“Nope.”
“Brandon. Do you know my history? I was older than you when I thought I was proposing to the love of my life.”
“Yeah, but she wasn’t. Penny was. Lottie and I know. I’m not going to fight it like you did when you first met Penny. This is not new to us. When you know, you know, so why waste years waiting?”
“I can see I’m going to need a drink for this conversation.” He walks to a table with a decanter of whiskey, and I refrain from commenting on the time.
“Humor me. What investments are you seeking advice on? I assume you know nothing about our family’s investments, and Lottie is set for life and probably her children’s lives.”
“I don’t want to rely on your family’s money. I want to support her.”
Franklin chokes on a mouthful of whiskey. “You’ll need a billion-dollar investment,” he mutters.
“I’m looking in Australia.”
He freezes, then downs his whiskey and comes back to lean on the desk. “Beside the mining industry, what investment Down Under will earn that sort of money?”
I shrug. “I don’t want billions. It doesn’t bring happiness. I want something for when I am home. We can stay and oversee the workings, knowing it is ours.”
“Have you spoken to Jobe about a real estate investment? Hotels or apartment blocks?”
“Nope. I don’t want anything like that. A small team of staff and something more intimate.”
He circles his finger. “Double back. And Charlotte wants to go to Australia with you? For how long are we talking?”
“Months. I’m not asking her to come and live there with me, but after I finish playing, I want to spend time with my family. My friends. It’s been over ten years, and I have lost touch with who I was.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Before I answer, he stands and walks to the other side of his desk.
“Yes and no. I will stay here for her, but there will be times I’ll need to go home.”
He picks up some balls from the table and rolls them around his fingers as he slowly paces by the window. “I fail to understand how she can leave when she is the governor of the LA Sharks.” He stops and stares at me. “What am I missing?”
I hold up both hands. “Nothing. I haven’t discussed it with her. I was hoping for ideas and contacts.”
“You have my family to deal with if you force her to resign.”
“I won’t.” Fuck!
He keeps pacing. “I have one idea. Only as I was looking into it myself.”
I sit forward and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants. “Where?”
“In South Australia… it’s ideal. Ever thought of owning a winery?”
“Where?”
“McLaren Vale.”
My stomach flutters with excitement. “Love the area.”
He sits behind his desk, taps away on his keypad, and then turns the monitor.
“Grandfather and father were in an accident five years ago, and the wife is struggling to keep it afloat. Kids are not interested in running the winery or the cellar door. It had a great reputation ten years ago, but their marketing skills did not compete with the newer, more savvy wineries.”
“Nothing like a challenge.”
“Since you have the funds, you can pay trained staff to run the winery and still visit when you return home. I suggest you build small apartments for people to stay and immerse in the experience. I can set you up with the best accountants to ensure it’s not a dwindling business.
But you need to think about marketing. I can help there, but you want something that stands out above all the other wineries and appeals to influencers.
After researching the area, I found that there is huge competition.
If I were steering you on the right path, I’d say to buy in Napa Valley.
But I know that’s not the direction you want. ”
I stand and shake his hand. “Thanks, Franklin. I appreciate your time. If you send me a contact, I can take it from there.”
He shakes my hand. “Not a chance. My expertise is stopping people from fucking others over. I’ll handle this.”
I grin. “I want Charlotte’s life to be about experiencing new things. A big adventure.”
“Good luck with that, BJ.”
Walking along the hallways of the LA Sharks offices, the only thing that has changed in three years is the names on the doors. I nod to the staff as they pass by, all knowing my name. They smile like I have always been here, and this is my home.
I stop outside my favorite door and knock twice.
“Come in,” Charlotte calls out.
I open the door to find Jobe sitting and chatting with Charlotte. “Am I interrupting?”
“No…” Charlotte stands. “Jobe was just leaving,” she says and smiles.
Jobe stands, unfazed by my appearance. “Hint taken.” He looks at Charlotte. “Don’t worry about any of this. I’ll deal with it.”
He shakes my hand on his way to the door. “I like your choice of flowers.”
I look over to the table and see a huge vase with an array of colorful flowers in the center, like a trophy. I grin at him. “I can hook you up any time.”
He laughs before closing the door behind him.
“Lock it,” Charlotte says.
The door clicks as I lock it and then stride over to her. Our lips smash together, hungry and desperate like we have spent weeks apart and not just spent the night together.
“What will Jobe deal with?” I murmur against her lips.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“But I do,” I say, kissing her as I unbutton her trousers and slide them down her thighs.
“Only Walter. It’s nothing.”
Walter is a prick, even though he fought to get me here. I know only too well it wasn’t because he liked me. The bastard wanted to win, he wanted to upset this family, and he wanted to take it all for himself. “Do you want me to say something to him?”
“No. Now stop talking. I don’t want to think about him. I want you inside me now.”
We desperately strip, knowing time is against us. I lean Charlotte over the desk, face down, and spread her legs wide. Then I run my fingers over her slit, groaning when I find her wet. I suck my fingers and close my eyes, never tiring of tasting her.
She wiggles her sexy ass, impatient. “Hurry up.”
Staring down at her perfect pussy, I take my cock and drive it into her all the way. She flinches at first, then relaxes as I pump hard and fast, her breaths quickly turning into gasps of pleasure. I tighten my grip on her hips as I lose focus, lost to the pleasure soaring through my body.
“I received your card,” she says between ragged breaths.
I can’t respond, too far gone into the sexual abyss. I fuck Charlotte hard, slamming into her, and her body presses against the desk. “Harder,” she rasps.
My dirty girl.
I lean forward and hold her head to the table, driving into her, pushing my other hand into the small of her back so she arches her perfect ass high for me, and I don’t let up.
“Ah,” she calls out.
“Do I have to gag you?” I grit out. The staff is not deaf or blind—I visit at the same time most days.
She spreads her legs wider, and I give it to her hard until she comes, gasping for air. I shudder with two last thrusts and come hard as I empty into her. I lean on her back and listen to our breaths slow together. “I love you,” I whisper. “That is what the card says.”
“I know. I truly know.”