Chapter 11
E XCITEMENT SWIRLED AROUND the ballroom, sprinkling specks of pride, joy, and adoration. This was the night that royalty in the South gathered to celebrate a long-lived tradition. Nineteen young ladies from the most influential and elite families under the Mason-Dixon Line had made their debut into society, and the thunderous applause bringing everyone to their feet confirmed the proper occasion.
Carrah searched the room for her favorite debs: Chareese Devlin, Ava Hamilton, Peyton Daniels, and Quinn Hightower. They were all standing at their respective family tables, basking in the pomp and circumstance of the Lakeside Debutante Ball, admiring the young ladies that had come after them and joined the ranks of their unique sisterhood. It was indeed a rite of passage that was unmatched for the young ladies and their beaus.
The thought immediately refocused Carrah’s attention back to the dance floor, where she found Carter Chennault. Like many of the boys invited to be escorts on this famed night, Carter possessed the résumé. He had the looks, wealth, connections, and had long mastered the waltz along with the chivalry expected in presenting a deb. However, when the season first began, his morale had been low due to the absence of his mother.
While Carrah didn’t know what it was like to have a deceased parent, she understood what it could feel like after almost losing her mother this year. Perhaps the sadness she witnessed in Carter was why she went out of her way to encourage him to do his best in a space where his mother held so much prominence. It was his duty to make Claudette Chennault’s memory proud.
And then it dawned on her… Why Carter, and not Chris? She didn’t even recall sending condolences when Ms. Claudette passed away. She was uncertain if her parents had expressed any, given the resentment her mother carried for always being outshined by the matriarch of the Chennault family.
The echo of applause began to die down and so did her smile as she watched her father wave Trent over to an empty chair at their table. Her ex was notorious for leeching away her happiness and tonight should’ve been off-limits. She deserved this time to be with people she had been around and respected her entire life.
“I’ll see you all back at the house.” Carrah snatched her purse up as Trent prepared to sit. She would not stay on the sinking Titanic or pretend to be accepting of backroom deals. “I’m not for sale,” she hissed, looking both her parents in the eye. She cut her eyes at Trent and then left.
Carrah carefully pushed through the crowd. Only two days had passed since Reggie wrapped her ankle, and while she no longer had a limp, there was still a hint of soreness, especially in heels. Therefore, she took her time, and once she was on the other side of the ballroom doors, she released an audible sigh of relief.
A gentle evening breeze entered from the balcony and nudged her as she strolled down the hall, debating on whether to go home or rejoin the festivities. Political correctness entailed her conforming to the societal expectations of the social class she was raised within. That was only if she cared, and right now she didn’t, so she made a beeline for the view of the lighthouse nestled on the shore of Lake Dora.
The solace was much appreciated until low, muffled giggles accompanied by footsteps came at her back. Carrah glanced over her shoulder and saw Summer clinging to Chris’s arm as they walked toward her.
She quickly turned her head back, pretending as though something in the distance had captivated her as she tried hard to ignore the two people she least liked.
“Carrah!” The shrill of Summer’s voice was hard to ignore and it grated her nerves more than usual. “What are you doing out here? I saw Trent inside.” She pulled up to Carrah’s side like they were friends.
Carrah refused to acknowledge her because that meant she would see Chris standing beside Summer. She continued her gaze into nothingness while weighing the other girl’s words and then replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Summer.” She then backed away from the rail and finally faced them. Her eyes locked with Chris’s for a moment before she darted her attention to the open doors leading back to the ballroom. “Enjoy your night.” Carrah started back inside.
“How’s the ankle?” His deep voice froze her. His words seemed sincere. The expression she found on his face once she turned around indicated the same, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’m not joshing you, Carrah.”
Her lids fluttered and she looked up at him. He’d caught her off guard with his old-fashioned words and it made her think back to youthful sunny days when they coexisted for the sake of their friends.
Summer smacked her teeth. “I mean, it’s been three days. Clearly it’s good if she’s in heels.” She moved closer to Chris and linked her arm within his.
Carrah bit her tongue. Her gaze lingered longer than she would’ve liked at the knot Summer’s elbow created with Chris’s, and oddly it rubbed Carrah the wrong way. She’d never really liked Summer, and tonight the comments from the peanut gallery solidified why she hadn’t embraced her as a friend. Meanwhile, Chris shrugged away from his date and took a step closer to Carrah.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” His lips pressed into a firm line.
“So you say.” Carrah shook her head and held her hand up to keep a significant distance between them. Something about his closeness suffocated her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’ll never walk again.”
Chris’s face turned red. His jaw ticked as he looked off for a second. Carrah didn’t care. She was never one to sugarcoat, and she wouldn’t dare for the man that had dismissed her twice. Even if his current demeanor contrasted against the one she met in his office and at the club.
Summer blew a breath of exasperation. “My God, Carrah! How hard is it for you to accept an apology? Everybody that was there knows it wasn’t on purpose except for you.”
“Good night.” Carrah turned to leave. This was neither the time nor the place to say things to make her become the subject of the summer gossip column. She would never stoop that low and embarrass her family over a Bradshaw. They had a reputation for being petty and lacking couth that their old money hid.
“Wait.” Chris skid closer to stop her. “Summer, would you mind giving us a minute?”
Summer folded her arms. She sized Carrah up and then looked at Chris. “Only a minute. I’ll be inside.” She winked at Chris and then turned an evil eye on Carrah as she left the deck, sashaying so hard that her bony hips might break.
“She wants you,” Carrah said the moment Summer crossed the threshold and reentered the corridor. “Bad.” She focused back on the man standing across from her, forgetting he was not Gavin, Duncan, or Reggie, who usually asked for her womanly advice.
Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, he shrugged. “Perhaps… You do know she’s right, though?” His hands slid into his pockets. “Is it really so hard for you to accept my apology?”
“It’s not. It’s simply unnecessary. Is there anything else?”
“Dammit, Carrah, why must you be so, so—”
“Me.” She was grateful he hadn’t said “complicated.” That was Trent’s go-to. Then again, her ex had forced her to erect barriers between them that had made their relationship anything but easy.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” A frown creased his face.
“It is. You’d know that if we hung out but…” She looked down at her feet. “Our families’ history has made that difficult.” She shifted the weight of her body and started walking off. Her conscience screamed at her to stop and she did and then faced him once more. “I’m sorry for the way I came to your office… and thank you for getting me off my ankle the other day.” Before he could reply, she started off again.
“‘If I walked away this time, my soul would be broken beyond repair.’”
Carrah whirled around. It was a moment in time that could never be reclaimed. Once the weight of his words settled upon her, she took a step forward, for once closing the distance between them. “Those are my words,” she whispered. “I wrote them.”
He nodded. “You did.” A self-satisfied grin curved his lips. “I read them, Seraphina.” He sidestepped her and went to the balcony rail.
“How come?” she snapped, hating that he’d taunted her and that he’d used a window to her soul, but she couldn’t resist moving like the Flash to be at his side.
“You brought them to me.”
“You turned it down.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he countered, finally turning his head to meet her eyes, and it took her breath away, but why? “The story was mesmerizing. It should be read by more than your attorney and acquiring editor.”
Carrah gasped, “What?” She stumbled backward in disbelief. “You’ll represent me?” Chris moved until his back was against the rail, and he watched her. He seemed anxious and she wanted to ask why. Only, she didn’t want him to take the offer back. Her natural curiosity overruled caution, and she took the risk. She had to know why he stared at her the way he did. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
A deadpan glare formed and quickly removed the apprehension she thought she saw upon his face. “Because I don’t want you to fall again and then blame me.”
“Oh.” She straightened and went back to the rail.
“To answer your question, I will review your contract and submit on your behalf. If there is negotiation, I will take care of that until you find an agent. I have contacts I can share with you.”
“Chris… I, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“You were there for my brother when he most needed it. This is the least I can do. Let’s plan—”
“Carrah!”
Both Chris’s and Carrah’s heads went to the voice shouting from behind. Chris’s eyes adjusted to the dim light until he recognized Trenton Butler. A long time had passed since Chris last saw Trent. They had hung out a little as preteens, but the boarding school Trent attended often kept him away from the Shores once they were teenagers. If there were ever a family that could compare to the Chennaults in terms of generational wealth, it was the Butlers.
Their family had founded the first Black-owned bank south of the Mason-Dixon Line in 1902. It was still open for business and had a stellar reputation. However, after Trent’s parents’ scandalous divorce, the Butlers lost prominence with the summer crowd since many didn’t want to take sides.
Trent came to where they stood. His attention went from Carrah to Chris. “’Sup, Chennault! Been a long time.” They gripped up and then came apart. Trent’s attention landed back on Carrah for longer than a few seconds. He reached for her and she wriggled away. A flash of malice crossed the other man’s face before he acknowledged Chris again. “Surprised to see the two of you out here together, given the whole Andrews versus Chennault drama.”
“You being where you aren’t wanted is the biggest surprise.” Carrah cocked her head at Trent and then stepped closer to Chris when Trent attempted to claim the space between them. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
Chris assessed Carrah. He noticed an unnatural stillness fall over her body as she clammed up and shied away from the other man’s touch. Her body language contradicted her sassy words, and a part of him wanted to know what had happened to Mr. and Miss Perfect. After all, ten years ago on this night, Trent had escorted Carrah as she debuted into society. It was the type of match every parent in their sphere wanted to unite power and prestige.
Yet this wasn’t Chris’s business. “I’ll let you two be. We can catch up later, Carrah?”
“Now is better.” Carrah looked him in the face, her eyes pleading for him not to leave.
“Catch up on what?” Trent flexed his cool words with whatever made-up authority he thought he had by directing his question at Chris.
It was a mistake—Chris Chennault cowered to no one. He had been raised to be an alpha male, and thus situations like these only provoked his dominance. Instead of his initial thought to politely excuse himself and allow them privacy, he flexed.
“I’m certain if Carrah wanted you to know, she would tell you.” He stretched a little taller into his full six-three frame and for some reason became protective of someone who wasn’t family and had been on the opposing side for as long as he could remember. “Carrah?” He peered down at her, watching as she shook her head no in slow motion. “There’s nothing for you to know. Now, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of a conversation.”
“We need to talk.” Trent raised his voice a decibel and lunged to grab Carrah.
Alarm bells rang. The plea Chris saw in her eyes now made sense. He stepped in front of her and cut the other man off. “That’s not what she wants. You need to respect that.”
Trent’s nostrils flared as he glared at Chris. After a few heated breaths, he spun on his heel and darted back inside. An awkward silence swarmed them for longer than a few minutes while Chris attempted to rationalize what had just happened. One minute he simply wanted to show gratitude for how she’d helped Carter, the next he wanted to protect her.
“Thank—”
“I’ll message you later this week.” He moved from her, albeit chasing the cloud of confusion away then inspected the walkway that would take him back inside. “Give me some time to review the contract and speak with the acquisitions team at Hurston House.”
“Why are you mad?” The inflection in her voice evidenced a timidness he’d never seen in her, but it also revealed frustration. “You don’t have to help me because I showed your brother kindness.”
Hell, he honestly had no idea why he was upset. All he knew was that he was for some strange reason. Mention of his brother forced him to consider if his logic was flawed. Did he really need to jump through hoops for Carrah Andrews because she’d given Carter compassion instead of pity?
Sure, that was what she was thinking. Anyone with a brain and background on their frenemy status should arrive at the same conclusion. And they would be right. Only, Carrah had rescued them without knowing or wanting anything in return.
They’d spent a year lamenting that Claudette wouldn’t be here tonight to see Carter escort Alexandria Devlin. He owed her for being there for his brother even when he couldn’t be. He just had to remember their well-established boundaries and all would be fine.
“If I don’t help you, who will? You don’t have much time left to respond to the contract.” He turned to leave then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “One more thing… Me helping you needs to remain between us. I cannot risk my father finding out. He’s had a lot thrown at him in the last year and a half. And… whatever drama you and Trent have, settle it ASAP. You don’t want that while launching your new career.”
He strolled off before she could reply and reentered the interior space. He hadn’t had a chance to collect his thoughts before Summer came racing to reclaim him. Only, he was no longer in the mood to entertain a woman. Let alone one begging to give him things between her legs. He didn’t need to get on top of one woman to get over another one. However, he did need to calm his racing mind from feeling as though he might be betraying his family.
Just as he was about to make up a lie and claim a rain check that he had no intent on using, his brother and Alexandria came and ushered him away. Without hesitation he gave Summer the church finger, never looking back. Any other time he was reluctant on being roped into Carter’s schemes since it usually involved him doing something that inconvenienced his plans. However, on this night he would’ve gladly played Uber driver to get outside of the Lakeside Inn.
“Where are we going?” Chris asked as they continued to pull him.
“My mother wants us all in a picture. Your dad, Chloe, you, Reese… she’s determined to capture this moment.” Alexandria giggled. “You know how we do.”
Chris huffed a dying chuckle because he knew exactly how their kind of people did. This was the clout play. There wasn’t another pairing tonight more prominent than his brother, a Chennault, with a Devlin.
“Some things never change,” he whispered and allowed them to lead him.
On the way to wherever Mrs. Devlin was coordinating a picture of their families, he saw his father in a corner, puff-chested and pointing at Melvin Andrews, who was doing the same. He broke free of Alexandria’s clutches and dashed over to the two older men.
“Dad.” Chris stepped between them and gently moved his father backward. “This is one of the most publicized events of the year. What are you thinking?” Chris ground out harshly, then narrowed his eyes on Melvin.
“He’s not,” Melvin Andrews grudgingly replied. “He’s still stuck thirty years in the past.”
“Tell that to Hannah!” Chauncy huffed. “You son of a bitch! You never cared to apologize and now you want my help.”
Chris tugged his father by the arm. He was unmovable until Carter popped up at his dad’s other side and helped. The corner they were in was starting to attract attention, and this would be the last thing Olina Chennault Cosmetics needed since the board had started questioning Chauncy’s ability to lead in the wake of Claudette’s death.
“I’m fine, boys.” Chauncy snatched his arms away from his sons. He began buttoning his jacket and made way toward the ballroom.
Chris reached out and grabbed his father by the hand to stop him. “Are you sure? We don’t have to go back in. Besides, Mrs. Devlin wants us to take a picture with Carter and Alexandria.”
Chauncy heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t need to admit why his entire mood was off. There was still plenty to process as a result of his mother no longer being here, and Chris knew it was a one day at a time sort of thing for his father so he didn’t push. He simply gestured for Carter to lead the way to where his escort and her family might be and Chauncy followed.
Their family’s dynamic in this space was forever changed, and so was his and Carrah’s. The same couldn’t be said for the relationship his father had with Melvin Andrews.