Chapter Thirty-Three

Jarrah perched on the worn arm of the sofa and smiled as he took in the last office he was ever likely to occupy. The only time it’d looked emptier had been when Charlie had completely ignored his orders and blown their nonexistent relocation budget decorating the place.

If you want to beat the big boys, you have to start looking like a big boy. Charlie’s voice drifted through his thoughts like a chocolate-coated sledgehammer. She’d been right. Then again, he could count how many times she’d been wrong on just one hand.

He wouldn’t miss the eighteen-hour days or stealing a few hours’ sleep before doing it all over again. And if he never sat in another boardroom or had to pander to the insecurities of immoral narcissists, it’d be too soon. But he was going to miss the hell out of the woman who’d helped him achieve more than he’d ever dreamed while ensuring he hadn’t become what he’d spent his life fighting.

“You better not have slept here again or I’m going to kick that sweet butt of yours home to get some proper rest.”

He chuckled and shook his head. Proper rest? There was only one thing that would enable him to sleep through the night and she was probably stuck in L.A. traffic on her way home from another fourteen-hour day.

Charlie thundered into the office and skidded to a stop in the doorway on her shocking-pink pumps. His office manager had pulled up so quickly she almost dropped the coffees she held. But the paper bag that’d been tucked between her toned arm and ample bosom thudded onto the floor as she juggled the cardboard tray holding their morning caffeine hit.

The scents of expensive perfume, overpriced coffee, and heavenly pastry wafted through his barren office as he pushed off the sofa and picked up the paper bag. Charlie’s wide eyes darted from the neat stack of files sitting on his otherwise paperless desk, to the twin 27-inch Apple Thunderbolt monitors she’d been nagging him to buy for months, before settling on the brand-new name plate shimmering on the office door.

Charlotte Mackay, Partner. She’d always be his Charlie. But partner had a nice ring to it and dark overlord wouldn’t fit on the polished copper plaque he’d had installed last night after he’d finally convinced her to go home. He pried the cardboard tray out of her hands and placed the coffees and pastries on the desk before ushering her into the chair she’d no doubt replace as soon as he walked out the door. Charlie remained ominously silent as he slid the contract he’d finished drafting that morning in front of her and dropped into the visitor’s chair.

The shock on his soon-to-be partner’s features transformed into suspicion before settling into wonder as her glistening eyes slowly rose to meet his. He’d lost count of the number of contracts he’d written, and this one had been by far the easiest and most satisfying.

It’d taken way too many sleepless nights to figure out the second-to-last piece of the puzzle that’d haunted him for the last five freaking months, but he’d done it. Which left only the most terrifying piece to go.

He’d smiled more that morning than he had since that damned Qantas jet had carried Olivia out of his arms and out of his life. He ignored the peace flowing through him and donned his business face. “I’ll be around to help with the transition, put out any fires, and make sure you don’t scare away our new associates, but you’ll run the show.” Like she’d unofficially done since the day she’d barged into her job interview.

“N-new associates?” Instead of the sass normally coating every syllable, Charlie’s question dribbled from her trembling lips on something sounding more like a squeak.

He hid his grin behind a scowl and gestured to the stack of résumés beside her. “They all know what they’re doing, come highly recommended, and have already been warned about the evil harpy they’ll work for. You’ve got the final say as to who joins Harper & Mackay.”

“Harper & Ma-Mackay?”

He’d fallen victim to the shimmering eyes gazing back at him way too many times and forced himself to focus on the contract before he dove over the desk and hugged the crap out of her.

“We’ll notify our existing clients as soon as we’re settled and everyone’s up to speed. In the meantime, you’ll need to update our website and get a new sign for the office.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “And depending on how many associates you hire, you may need to look at leasing more space next door.”

She’d nagged him to hire more people and grow the business for years. He’d always made up some excuse that it wasn’t the right time or they needed more clients. The truth was he couldn’t imagine working with anyone other than the woman whispering curses and covertly wiping her eyes.

She placed a crimson-tipped finger halfway down the contract and raised an eyebrow. “Fifty-fifty split? How will disputes get resolved?”

And that’s why hiring Charlotte Mackay all those years ago had been the best business decision he’d ever made. Not that she’d given him much choice. While sniffling and pretending not to cry, she’d sped read the contract and zeroed in on the one thing he’d purposely left ambiguous. He hadn’t given her a controlling stake because she’d never let him forget she was the boss. More importantly, he loved fighting with her.

He sighed and shook his head. “Same as always. We’ll argue for hours and end up doing what you want.”

She hid her smile behind a grim look of determination and lowered her attention back to the contract. She’d dropped out of college, with only a year left on her law degree, to care for her disabled sister, but understood legalese better than half the high-priced leeches they went up against. Her finger danced over the words and pulled up on the vacant real estate beside his signature. “Do you know any decent lawyers that could look this over for me?”

This time he couldn’t stop laughing. It poured out of him in waves of relief and joy. “You can sign it your damned self once you finish your law degree.”

The mouth that never stopped working hung open while she gawked at him.

Her jutted his chin at the files on her desk. “Why do you think I interviewed so many associates? They can cover you while you’re studying and sitting exams. A couple have just graduated and will be able to help you get back into the swing of things considering your”—he paused and cleared his throat—“your experience.”

While Charlie’s expression morphed from shock to indignation, he fished out the Vanquish’s key and tossed it across the desk.

She snatched it up before it had even stopped sliding and eyed him with a mixture of hope and suspicion. Aston Martin’s designers could’ve modeled the Vanquish’s body based on the woman sitting opposite him. The damned thing had practically been created as Charlie’s automotive avatar, and where he was headed, he didn’t need a super car.

“Close your damned mouth and grab your handbag. I need a lift.”