Chapter 5
“F UCK!” C HRIS PUSHED out of his chair, slamming his hand on the desk. “Celeste has the studio unwilling to renegotiate Alonzo’s contract.”
“You always use the harshest expletives when ending a call with that woman.” Shayla sighed as she moved through his door and to his desk.
Chris smirked. “She brings out that side in me.” He pulled his attention from the window and looked at Shayla. “Ava never got back to me. Did you find anything on Ms. Charles?”
“I’ll do you one better.” Shayla passed him a folder. “Inside the folder is her manuscript and a contract from Hurston House.”
His head tilted to the side. “Hurston House?” He wouldn’t pretend not to be intrigued.
He sat back down at his desk and opened the folder. Before he could read, Shayla said, “I know we’re in the middle of expanding the firm and you wanted time with your family before heading out west, and that you aren’t taking new clients. But her Letter to Acquire is unlike anything I’ve seen come over in a while. She seems really nice too.”
“Nice.” Chris frowned. “That won’t commit me to a client.”
“I know, but before you determine anything about Ms. Charles, Heather is here demanding to see you. She even asked the woman if she minded taking a few minutes of your time.”
“What?” He got back to his feet, running his hand across his face.
She nodded. “Yes, and you’re almost thirty behind schedule. I may need to reschedule your call with MGM since you’re close to quitting time.”
Chris closed the folder on his desk. He wished that leaving Heather this morning had been as easy. He took in a deep breath and smoothed his tie. “I can’t deal with this shit today. Damn Ava. If she hadn’t been the referral, I would’ve declined this meeting.” He started then stopped on his way to the door. “You saw the contract. Who can it be assigned to?”
Shayla became the night before Christmas silent. Completely out of character for his assistant, who always had something to add when he considered new clients. He turned and looked at Shayla.
She finally shrugged. “I don’t know, Chris. I think you should grant her more serious consideration. The woman is being offered a six-figure contract after submitting a story to a contest. You and I both know that is beyond rare, and the story is probably worth more. Seraphina also has that look. New York will love her. ”
Chris folded his arms. “Seraphina,” he questioned, weighing her words, and he could see that somehow the woman on the other side of his office door had impressed Shayla, which was hard to do. “How’d you get on a first-name basis so fast? You’ve never had a problem reassigning before.”
“I told you she’s nice.” She paused. “Do you want me to send Heather in? She seems a little needy.”
He shook his head. Lately, everything with Heather turned into an argument. He didn’t want his professional space tainted with the negative energy he was sure would permeate after they spoke. “No, I need to at least address Ms. Charles. She’s waited patiently. Afterward, I’ll walk Heather out and come back for the consult.”
They walked out of Chris’s office and proceeded down the hall. Before Chris could step out of the corridor, Heather rushed him. Her smile greeted him bright and wide. However, he knew better, and it couldn’t erase their blowout from last night.
“Baby.” She pouted so loud, he drew back. She wanted something, ideally to make up. Only he wasn’t in a forgiving mood, considering the words they’d exchanged last night when he refused her ultimatum. “Can we talk?”
“I need to address my waiting client.” He peeked over Heather and saw the woman seated with her head down, long silky hair curtaining her face as she furiously typed on her phone. His gaze narrowed. Something about Seraphina Charles seemed familiar. “Give me a second and then I’ll walk you out.” Heather’s brow cocked and her lips pursed. It was exactly the reason he would chat with her outside.
He sidestepped Heather, and strolled over to the sitting area. Before he could greet Ms. Charles, she lifted her head and looked him in the face. He went bone-rigid still.
“Carrah,” he whispered. A puzzled expression settled on his face and he glanced over his shoulder to where Shayla sat and then turned back to a girl who had always been on the outside looking in. Or was it the other way around?
Carrah stood, adjusting her dress. She avoided looking him in the eyes. Her attention floated behind him as her fingers fidgeted before she extended her hand and smiled. “Seraphina Charles, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chennault.” Her words were soft, even though her eyes pleaded hard with him to continue her charade.
But why? Instead of questioning her in front of Shayla and Heather, he played along. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.” He extended his hand to hers and gripped it firmly.
“Please don’t apologize. I’m just happy you agreed to see me.”
But I didn’t , he wanted to say, despite the sincerity of her words. She’d made him an unwilling accessory to her scheme. This wasn’t anything resembling nice. She’d fooled Shayla.
His heartbeat sped up, pumping anger with adrenaline to remain alert. He was wary of this visit and the lengths she had gone through, and still was to maintain this facade. He knew the day was off. Never in a million years did he expect this.
Chris schooled his face clear of any emotion. “Do you mind if I take a few more minutes to resolve a personal matter? I don’t want our appointment interrupted.”
Carrah nodded. He spun around, took Heather by the hand, and exited the suite. Heather’s mouth was moving and words were coming out as he passed the elevator doors and quickly led her down the stairs to the outside of the building. Unfortunately he heard nothing. His mind was still upstairs.
A number of scenarios began playing in his head. However, none could justify the way Carrah Andrews had slithered her way into his space.
“Chris,” Heather barked, snatching her hand from his. “Are you listening to me?”
“I am not,” he responded with calm and honesty while pointedly staring her in the face. He was never one to mince words… or feelings, especially once he understood what they were. “I just got off a call that didn’t go in my favor. There is a prospective client upstairs. She helps me to continue making my goal of expansion reality, but I’m down here discussing personal matters that could’ve waited until I was done with work for today.”
“You’re always working,” Heather snapped. “So tell me when would’ve actually been a good time for you.”
“I asked you to stay in New York because now wasn’t a good time to come visit, but you still came. Now here you are wanting to discuss the ultimatum you delivered last night of propose to you or else.” He stepped back from her and slid his hands into his pockets. “My head is up there in my office. I don’t have time to deliberate a marriage you know neither of us are ready for… which is why we agreed last night that you would leave this morning. Yet you’re still here.”
Heather rushed to him and he promptly took another step back. “I’m sorry things got a little heated last night. Sorry, Chris, how many times do you want me to say it?”
He hesitated for a second because he didn’t care to become the subject of small-town gossip in case she pitched one of her fits on Main Street. However, it was time. They’d run their course. “You don’t ever have to say it to me again. It’s over. I really do wish you the best—Goodbye, Heather.”
Chris turned away from her and quickly made his way back to his office all the while ignoring the mean-spirited words she hurled at him. The blinders were off. Grief had stalled him from seeing that they were never exactly compatible. At least all she had required up until now were fancy dinners and luxury gifts.
He couldn’t give her his time, wouldn’t miss the sex that was oftentimes bland, and he never considered more. Shame on him for believing she had filled a void. The truth had been staring him in the face for a while, but the discomfort of removing someone else from his life had made him ignore all the red flags. Until the ultimatum, it forced him to accept the reality that Heather had been a beautifully convenient distraction.
He pleaded with chaos to be still for the rest of the day and reached for the doorknob leading back to his suite. His prayers were rejected, and the weight he’d left downstairs found and crushed him the second he stepped inside and locked eyes with Carrah. Uncertainty halted his steps. He knew relief—it was the emotion he’d felt moments ago after telling Heather goodbye—but this feeling he had as he looked at Carrah was unrecognizable.
Chris cleared his throat. “I’m ready for you, Ca—
Ms. Charles.” He continued through the lobby, passing Shayla and went down the hall.
Carrah grabbed her bag, got to her feet, and followed. This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed his powerful build, standing over six feet with broad shoulders perfectly proportioned between athletic and lean. The difference this time was that he was clothed in a tailored suit instead of swim trunks that had revealed him as a god crafted for war.
She pushed the image of his chiseled, golden skin from her head and thanked him for holding the door open as she entered his personal space. It lacked many of the normal trinkets that traditionally furnished an office. For the first time that she could recall, she wished to see something that would tell her who Chris Chennault really was. It was the human nature of curiosity to be in one’s space and take a peek into who they were.
She wanted that now in an effort to connect with him beyond knowing that they’d spent summers ignoring each other.
“How dare you?”
The door closed behind her and she whipped around to see him staring her down. He was deceptively calm. The tick in his jaw was what gave away his irritation. Only those eyes, she had wished to avoid them.
All the girls in the Shores deemed them beautiful. She had just been too proud to admit it. In this moment that sweet mix of brown and amber seemed to see straight through her, stripping her bare naked. No one had made her feel so vulnerable and perhaps it was because the enemy would now know her battle plan.
“Are you just going to stand there like a deer caught in headlights? You know perfectly well what I mean, Carrah.” He popped the button on his coat and slid his hands into his pockets. His eyes never left her.
She raised her hands in surrender and swallowed hard. “I can explain.” He gestured for her to do so and then leaned against the wall. He reminded her of the men she saw posing in ads for Armani, not an attorney. Why was this even a thought? “I… I, uh, heard you were the best at contract negotiations, that is.”
He huffed. “Maybe I am. That doesn’t explain why you lied. Your name is Carrah Andrews, not Seraphina Charles. Why are you playing games, Carrah? I suggest you leave.”
Chris pushed off the wall and brushed past her. He sat at his desk, ignoring her presence. She then contemplated leaving, actually running like hell. Except she didn’t want to become a coward to her own dreams.
She lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk. His eyes burned into her, stirring regrets to life, but she had to try. “I did something that I don’t want anyone else to know about. Not even Ava knows I’m here. I used her name because she’s your client and I doubted you would question it.”
“So you lied again. Not surprised.” He reclined in his seat, never breaking eye contact. “Why me?”
Carrah’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip before she glanced down at her fidgeting hands. “Because I’m running out of time and there’s no one else I can go to,” she said, a little above a whisper. “I wasn’t blowing smoke earlier. I heard you’re the best. I need your help.” She finally looked up at him.
“Our families have history that make it hard for me to engage with you on this level. In this space. Additionally, in order to enter into an attorney-client relationship, there has to be trust. You lied to get into my office today and then made me complicit in your little scheme. I can’t trust you. Then again, that is what crumbled the bridge over troubled waters between our grandfathers, isn’t it?”
“But—”
“No buts; this is business.” A hard edge touched his words. He sat up and steepled his hands atop his desk. “We can pretend this conversation never happened and resume our normal of ignoring each other, not attending the same events, or timing our arrivals to socialize with mutual friends.”
Carrah had known Chris was a hard-ass. She remembered hearing over the years how he never gave in and always played to win, not caring about the casualties in his wake. Oddly she hoped this meeting would’ve yielded a different outcome. However, it seemed the chip on his shoulder wouldn’t prevent anything except his dismissal of her.
Chennaults don’t mix with Andrewses… Chris excellently upheld old sentiments. Though, if she were honest, she had too. Of all the children between the two families, she and Chris were the closest in age. They also had years of proximity to each other due to their social circles, and that time was spent preserving a generational grudge.
They both festered in the rivalry, and now Chris clung to it with an iron fist. Her desires had clouded her judgment and allowed her to make a fool of herself. No need in further rocking the boat.
Carrah stood, anger boiling over embarrassment, and was determined more than ever to find someone else to review her contract after being brushed off by Chris. She tossed her bag on her shoulder. “You know what, you’re right,” she spat. “ Connard ,” she hissed then stormed to the door.
“Petit petard!”
His words froze her hand midair before she could touch the doorknob. Emotions were getting the best of her. She’d forgotten Chris understood. As children from two of the oldest Black families that were able to trace roots back to French New Orleans, quadroons, and octoroons, they had both been raised to understand the old tongue. Not to mention, their grandfathers had been best friends, college mates, and business partners before the fallout between their families.
She owned her rookie mistake and then turned to face him because she wouldn’t be known as a coward. But how… how did he know the nickname that only her family used whenever they said she was being spicy?
“How dare you come into my office and insult me because I don’t give you your way,” he sneered as he moved toward her. He stopped inches away, eclipsing her five-three with his dominant stature. “Were we not just on a boat together that you went out of your way to avoid talking to me… and now you demand my help? You must take me for a fool.”
Her teeth smacked together. “I asked you for help, Chris.”
“So what? People ask me for help all the time. I have the right to choose who I give it to. You’re not getting it.”
“Fine!” Her voice was loud, pride hurt, and dreams slipping away.
“Fine!” he shouted back.
“How foolish of me. You’re exactly the asshole I thought you were.” In one swift movement she opened the door and left his office. She was all out of options and time was not on her side.