Charming (New York Heirs #3)

by Drea Blackery

  “Copy that,” she murmured.

  When we talked about how there was trouble coming, I didn’t expect it to happen the way it did. Life hit you in heartbreaking ways sometimes.

  My work with Jemima’s team went better than I hoped, and after two weeks of prep and groundwork, we went live with our initial phase.

  The media furor was instantaneous. Jemima’s influence covered nearly every channel of communication from coast to coast; print media, TV and news, and crucially, social media. Within days of us going live she achieved exactly what she said she’d do—get the whole country talking.

  My phone vibrated incessantly with news agencies that wanted interviews with me, but Jemima and her team had prepared me for this. Rosalie, the PR manager Jemima assigned to me, turned down every single interview request except one.

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t a news channel owned by Easton Entertainment. Nonetheless it was a respected cable network that averaged two million prime time viewers.

  I wish I could say the interview was the singular moment I had been waiting for, but Rosalie had been firm on allowing them only a live ten-minute video call with me. I didn’t even have to leave the soundproof meeting room in Jemima’s office.

  “Baby steps,” Rosalie had said. “We want to get the word out there, but most of the talking will be done by our lawyers and the charges we’re gonna press.”

  My parents were the first to call after the interview ended.

  “We were watching you on TV!” my mum had cried. “You were so brave—”

  My dad grabbed the phone from her.

  “Your aunts and uncles called me asking if it was really you. Damn right it is, I told them, that’s my daughter right there going up against that bastard.” His voice had choked up. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. You did good up there. You spoke so damn well.”

  It was the coaching from the team, I’d said. They ran through all the questions with me beforehand until my answers came almost second nature.

  I gave them my love before hanging up and letting Rosalie un-mic me.

  And then after that, I dissolved into a crying mess.

  Before the interview, the news channel had replayed on-air the video that I recorded, the one where I’d been attacked by Kline. It had taken so much out of me to hold it together.

  “It’s okay dear, let it all out,” Rosalie had said as she held me. “You were absolutely fantastic. The dam’s broken and nothing will hold it back now. And this is just the beginning.”

  And true enough, in the week after my video-call aired on the news, channels across America started to receive calls from women and men who had the same thing happen to them and wanted to tell it. Stories were shared on social media about Kline, and about men like Kline. I had thought it would be a campaign, but it was turning out to be an entire movement.

  My days during those few weeks were devoted to work with Jemima’s team, and my nights were short and used to catch up on sleep.

  Gabriel was my rock during that time. To my relief he took our relationship slow, never pushing me for dates or for sex. He made it clear that when I wanted his time it was available to me, and as the days passed I found myself wanting more of it.

  But nothing warmed my heart more than when he told me what he had been doing behind the scenes.

  While Jemima and I had been busy with the campaign, Gabriel had been aggressively pressuring the people in his circles to hold Kline accountable. He, Ryland, Cam and Theo were using their considerable combined influence to hurt the pockets of those who didn’t.

  It was causing an uproar in their circles. The people in power were now being pressed on both ends to take a stand—by the masses, and by their own peers.

  “I swore to protect you, Mouse,” was Gabriel’s simple explanation when I asked him why he would do this for me. “You won’t be alone ever again.”

  I had never felt more cherished than in that moment, and that was when I knew I loved him.

  But I was soon reminded that the storm was never too far from my horizon.

  I was holed up in my apartment again on the last Friday of September. Gabriel was away at the launch party for Skyline Cap together with Allie, Karin and the rest of the guys. He’d been eager for it and invited me, but as always I preferred to stay in and get a rest from my work.

  So Gabriel decided he’d leave the party early later to spend time with me.

  I bit back a smile at that thought. “Gabriel” and “leave the party early” were practically oxymorons.

  My phone buzzed with a call from Gabriel a little after eight, which was earlier than I expected.

  “Hey,” came his low voice.

  “Hey!” I went to my window to look out, half hoping to see his bright red Ferrari parked downstairs. “Are you here already?”

  “Yeah sorry, but I don’t think I can make it to your place tonight,” Gabriel said distractedly. “I’m at the hospital right now.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet.

  “W-what happened? Are you okay?” I said in a rush.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gabriel paused. “It isn’t me, it’s Cam. He got in an accident.”

  My hand went to my mouth. “Oh my god.”

  “The doctors can’t say much for now, but it looks pretty bad. I’m sorry babe, but I can’t make it tonight, or tomorrow for that matter.”

  I tried to listen for how Gabriel was doing, but his tone was emotionless and unreadable, which worried me instantly.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

  “Lena, it’s gonna be a long night, I think you should—”

  “I’m on my way,” I said again, gently but firmly. “Text me the place and I’ll see you soon.”

  I took some time to find the emergency wing of the hospital, but when I got there, the area outside the operating theatre was thankfully clear of strangers.

  Ryland and Allie were standing by the cooler, and they were both on phone calls and speaking in agitated tones. Theo had Karin in his arms and she was silently crying against his coat. They were still dressed in their party clothes, which made the whole scene especially surreal.

  Gabriel sat in one of the cold plastic chairs, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. His hair was ruffled and the top buttons of his shirt had been undone.

  I breathed his name, and when he looked up, I nearly gasped at the pain I saw on his face.

  He got up and crossed the distance between us within seconds.

  “Gabriel—”

  He pulled me in a tight, painful hug.

  “I’m so fucking glad to see you,” he breathed. His arms were trembling.

  I gently guided him to a quiet corner away from any curious eyes, and there I held him in my arms, whispering soothing words to him until he calmed. It reminded me of all the times when he calmed me during my panic attacks.

  “What happened?” I asked when his shallow breathing evened out.

  “I left a document back at the office,” he said, his gaze not meeting my eyes. “I wanted to go back and get it but I was talking to some clients, so Cam said he’d go instead. I told him to take my car…”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  Gabriel lifted his head and stared back at me with haunted, hollow eyes.

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “My car engine was modified. Back then I had it reworked with a turbocharger and a carburetor. It pumps air back into the engine for combustion—” He broke off with a curse. “What this means is my car goes faster but it’s also more difficult to control.”

  “Oh, Gabriel.”

  “The car was fucking totaled, Lena.” Gabriel’s face was bleak and pale. “It crashed into a divider and the hood just crumpled like a piece of paper. He was unconscious when they pulled him from the wreck, and they’re not saying anything now but…”

  But it looks bad.

  The unspoken words hung in the air between us.

  Gabriel rough
ly scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’s been in there for an hour, but they’re saying it’s gonna take the whole night.”

  “He’ll be okay,” I tried to say. But I knew they were empty words, and Gabriel didn’t hear them either way.

  “I should be the one in there, don’t you see?” he said bleakly. “It should have been me.”

  Hours passed, and the light above the operating theatre remained lit. Ryland and Theo paced, spoke in hushed tones, went out for smokes, but Gabriel was as still as a statue, never shifting from where we sat.

  The only time he moved was when Allie and Karin quietly told me they were going back home to grab some clothes and food for the guys. I asked Gabriel if he wanted me to do the same, but all he did was grab my hand in his and hold it tight.

  I knew without asking that he needed me to stay with him, and so that was what I did.

  We kept vigil throughout the night, and I must have fallen asleep against Gabriel’s shoulder sometime after midnight. I jerked awake when I heard sudden voices, and Gabriel put his arm around me to steady me.

  A dark-haired older gentleman in a well-cut suit was arguing with a group of doctors in angry, hushed tones just down the hallway. I recognized him instantly as Cyrus Lancaster, Cam’s father. Behind him a beautiful older lady stood with another man who was unmistakably Cam’s elder brother, Rhys.

  While his father was occupied with the doctors, Rhys was barking orders on his phone. Another bespectacled man stood by listening to both conversations intently.

  “Their family lawyer,” Theo said from across us where he and Karin were seated.

  “He’s not even out of surgery and they’re already making plans for the business,” Allie said in disgust.

  Gabriel’s hands clenched tighter around themselves, so hard that his knuckles were bone-white. I knew he was fearing the worst for Cam.

  Finally, the three doctors dispersed towards the operating theatre. Cyrus Lancaster shot us all a cold glare as his two family members and the lawyer turned and exited the waiting area.

  Ryland got to his feet and strode over.

  “What did the doctors say?” he asked in a low tone. “Will he pull through?”

  Cyrus returned with an expression so full of hatred and venom that I shrank back into Gabriel’s side.

  “For now,” he spat bitterly. “He’ll pull through for now, but his body is fucked for good.”

  Gabriel jerked, but his eyes remained blindly affixed to a spot on the linoleum floor.

  “What do you mean by that?” Ryland demanded, but Cyrus ignored him.

  “He will not live like this,” he said instead, directing his words at Gabriel.

  “Congratulations,” he sneered. “You’ve always been a self-centered piece of shit and now you’ve killed my son.”

  “Cam survived,” Ryland snapped. “That’s what matters isn’t it, that he’s alive?”

  “Not for long, he won’t be,” Cyrus said, seeming to draw cruel satisfaction from Gabriel’s growing anguish. “He’ll be dead within the year, and this is all on you.”

  “What exactly happened to Cam?“ Theo interrupted.

  “Nothing,” Cyrus snapped. “There’s nothing the matter with him, you hear? Nothing at all!”

  With that he strode away, leaving us all in despair. I couldn’t help thinking that he was declaring that for the benefit of anyone who might overhear, and that last line was all a lie.

  ***

  The next two weeks that passed was a nightmare for all of us, but no one was more broken up about it than Gabriel. I knew that he and Cam were best friends, but I never realized just how deep their bond was. The darkness that Gabriel sank into afterwards was nothing short of grief.

  Jemima had returned his access to his penthouse after she heard what had happened to Cam—via private channels, because Cyrus Lancaster was doing everything he could to keep this out of the news. Gabriel took to isolating himself in his home, allowing no one in or out but me.

  I visited him at his place every day after my work with Jemima’s team, but every passing day made me more afraid for him.

  Gabriel had become a ghost, a hollow-eyed shell of his former self. He ate nothing and said nothing and only downed bottles of alcohol as he clutched his phone and stared down at it, waiting for news of Cam who seemed to be in and out of surgery every other day. The doctors were tight-lipped about it on orders of Cyrus Lancaster, and I knew that it terrified Gabriel not to know if his friend might even make it through the night.

  Then one night, two weeks after I first got the call from Gabriel in the hospital, I came back to his apartment to find it utterly and completely trashed.

  Broken glass was scattered across the floor, furniture was flipped or destroyed, and in the mess sat Gabriel with his back against the wall, shirtless and nursing a bottle of whiskey.

  “What happened?” I cried, but the answer was obvious. Gabriel had had a breakdown.

  He didn’t reply, and a kind of desperate anger surged up inside me.

  I strode over to him, grabbed the bottle from his hand and flung it away. It hit the cold marble floor with a dull crash, but even then Gabriel only afforded me a hollow-eyed glance.

  “We have to do something about this,” I said shakily. “Please. I can’t watch you kill yourself like this.”

  Gabriel said nothing, and I wondered where the man I had fallen in love with had gone. Nothing seemed to remain of the laughing, charming man who would pull me into his arms for a kiss in the middle of a conversation just because he felt like it.

  I sank to the floor and took him into my arms.

  “Please, just talk to me,” I begged, cradling his head against my neck. “I know it hurts but I need you too.”

  There was no sign that Gabriel even heard me.

  “Talk to me,” I said again, more desperately this time.

  His shoulders lifted and fell in a shuddering breath. It felt like he was drowning right in my arms.

  “It should have been me,” he said without any emotion.

  “No.” I held him tighter. “I need you, so please, please let us find a way out of this together.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know what to fucking do,” Gabriel whispered. “I’m not one to pray but the past weeks I’ve been begging God. For him to be okay and if he isn’t, then for me to take his place.”

  “You can’t. You promised me you’re not going anywhere. I need you here with me, you hear me?”

  “I can’t do shit, Lena. I can’t even cry or I’ll fall apart.”

  “I’ll hold you together,” I said fiercely.

  Gabriel rested his head against my shoulder and let out a shaky sigh. Then another, and his shoulders began to shake as painful, raw sobs wrenched from his chest.

  I cried with Gabriel for his best friend, for him, for all the times that he needed someone but had to pretend he was okay.

  We wept for what seemed like forever, because no one could promise us that things were going to be okay and that made the future an unbearable darkness.

  Then twenty days after Cam’s accident and five days after Gabriel’s breakdown, we got the news that Cam was out of his induced coma and in a stable condition.

  I shut the door carefully behind me as I entered Cam’s private ward. He lay in the hospital bed hooked up to the several machines that surrounded him, and one of his legs was in a cast. It seemed like his entire body was wrapped in bandages.

  The curtains had been drawn shut, but even without the darkness of the room it would be impossible to tell if he was asleep or not with the bandages around his eyes.

  The air slowly left my lungs until it became hard to breathe. Cam’s body was so completely beaten up he had to be in excruciating pain.

  I wanted to throw myself at his fucking feet and apologize but all I did was stand by the door, frozen with terror at what he might tell me when he woke.

  That I’d fucked his life. That his body was broken beyond repair.


  That this was all my fault.

  I started when Cam spoke suddenly.

  “Are you gonna stand there all day staring or are you gonna come in and talk to me?” he said. His voice was scratchy and raw, as if he hadn’t drank anything for days.

  At my prolonged silence, he added, “I don’t need to see to know that it’s you loitering there like some dipshit.”

  My lips quirked, but my smile faded just as quickly. “Did I wake you?”

  “I heard the door open. Can’t fall asleep if I wanted to, all they let me do around here is sleep. I’ve gotten more shut-eye in these two weeks than I’ve had the whole year.”

  Cam adjusted his head on the pillow, and I took it as a cue that he wanted to talk.

  I went to take the chair by his bed, careful not to scrape the legs against the floor. Cam looked so beat up, and I was afraid that even a loud sound would injure him even more somehow.

  “How are you?” I asked quietly.

  “Been better,” Cam rasped. “I fuckin’ hate it here, the only time the nurse comes by is to stab me with needles or force-feed me medication or bring me shitty hospital food. And obviously because I can’t see, I never know which it’s gonna be.”

  “That’s rough.” I knew how much Cam hated needles. “Remember that time you broke your leg in football practice?”

  Cam’s cracked lips curved at the corners. “And Coach and you got me to the hospital and they had to set my bones?”

  “And they brought out the syringe and you fucking screamed.”

  “I didn’t scream, asshat, I handled it like a fuckin’ champ.”

  “You were yelling so loudly inside I thought they were trying to amputate you.”

  “Yeah whatever, I’m a wuss when it comes to needles and I’m man enough to admit that.” His jaw tightened in pain as he shifted on the bed.

  I felt like the lowest piece of shit.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the words choking in my throat. “Cam, I’m so fucking sorry.”