Page 15 of Rival Hearts

“You’re Charlotte fucking Reynolds,” Gabe said, interrupting my spiral. “You’ve always been incredible, and when you decide to do something, shit happens. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Thanks, Gabe. It means a lot.”

“You have everything you need in who you are and an awesome sponsor now, too. I’m rooting for you.”

“You always have.”

“What are big brothers for? But I’m going to try sleep off this hangover so I don’t cause more shit than I’m worth when I get around to work later. Pick you up after five?”

“I’ll take the bus,” I said. “Thanks.”

Gabe didn’t try to argue before we ended the call, and I walked back into the center, taking my place behind my laptop.

What was that?

Gabe was just checking in.

Which is why you were all tied up in knots about talking to him?

I hesitated, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to talk to her about what had happened with Alex. Not over text, and not right now when there were so many people around who would hear her squeal when she read the info once I sent it.

I skipped out on his party, and he was upset. But we’re fine now. It’s not a big deal. Really. Don’t worry about it.

That sounds like you. He can’t be upset, those parties were never your thing.

Relief flooded me that she bought it, and I hadn’t even lied. I wanted to keep being dishonest to a minimum if I could help it. This was already too much to juggle.

Thanks. Do you even think this campaign will work?

Of course! Everyone loves you. It’s the innocent, sunshine face you have.

I looked over my screen at her again, and she fluttered her eyelashes.

I laughed as I turned back to my laptop, my fingers quickly finding their rhythm on the keyboard again.

4

ALEX

Ifiddled with my blazer button, doing it up and undoing it again, over and over, as I mentally ran over the meeting itinerary.

The boardroom was still empty, and I stood in my favorite spot at the window. The view of the Atlantic Ocean stretched endlessly before me, the water on the horizon merging with the sky.

The door opened behind me, and I looked over my shoulder.

Chris walked in, dressed as immaculately in a tailored suit as I was.

“They’re about ten minutes out,” he said. His eyes were the same color as the sky. “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “Why?”

“Just checking.” Chris ran his hand over the light brown hair at the back of his head. He tucked the other hand into his pants pocket.

Christopher Blackwood was a year younger than I was. He was one of my three brothers, but none of us were blood related. We’d all been adopted at one stage or another when we were kidsby two Samaritans who hadn’t only given us a second chance in life, they’d also given us a hell of an empire to build.

Blackwood Incorporated had always been my dad’s vision, and we were bringing it to fruition for him.

Chris turned his attention to the view, too. To the south, the horizon met the open ocean where sailboats and luxury yachts—everything that our worlds revolved around—cruised lazily with white sails billowing in the breeze.