Chapter 1

Amelia

I've spent the day misty-eyed and fending off well-wishes. Today's not a day about me. I sit at the table surrounded by my late husband's family and watch as his cousin marries the love of her life.

It's all I've ever wanted for someone as nice as Brooke is.

"Jackson would have been on that dance floor," my mother-in-law, Eleanor, says with a brave smile.

He would have, too. Jax was always a sucker for the late ‘90s pop wedding hits that are currently blaring out of the speakers, giving me a headache. He would have been one too many shots of tequila down (at the insistence of his cousins) and would be tearing it up on the dance floor with some outright embarrassing dance moves. The robot was a particular favorite.

Before I can answer, my chair seems to be moving on its own accord. With a swirl of white and a flash of brilliant diamonds, I'm hauled off my feet and am in the middle of the dance floor, completely surrounded by a slew of pale green bridesmaids' dresses. The bride herself wraps her slender arms around my waist and grins. "I'm as sorry as everyone else that Jackson's not here to help me celebrate, Amelia, but that simply means that you need to be the replacement."

"I'm really not a good dancer," I plead, trying to get out.

All members of Jackson's extended family within hearing distance stop and stare at me with scrutinizing looks before Brooke rolls her eyes. "You will always be better than Jax was."

I snort and am about to give in before I'm saved by the unfortunate-looking presence of Victor Garrett's lawyer, Ernest Barlow. I've been in contact with him plenty of times since Jax's death just over two months ago and his grandfather's—and my employer's—death almost four months before that.

There is a sizzling of tension in the room without Victor here. All sides of Brooke's extended family are twitching with news of Victor's will, but I seem to be the only one who's had any luck.

"A word, Mrs. Garrett?" Ernest smiles at everyone around us, showing a row of crooked, cigarette-stained teeth. "Don't want to keep you from the festivities too much, but I would like to take the opportunity while it presents itself."

Brooke gives me a wary look, but I nod professionally at Ernest, and he directs me towards a quiet room off the main hall.

I'm always looking for inspiration for my next hotel project, and this one is no exception. Ornate archways à la Victorian architecture, but with delicious wood tones and muted greens of the wedding décor. It mixes old with new, and that's exactly what I'm hoping to achieve with the new resort and venue space that will be in production as soon as I get the go-ahead. If I am confirmed as president of MVM Hotels and Resorts, the project is going ahead.

"What can I help with?" I ask when we're far enough away from any prying Garrett family members–or those without the last name but claim entitlement just the same.

Ernest twitches as if preparing himself. "Ma'am, there seems to be a… a problem of sorts."

"What, exactly?"

He licks his lips. "We have no copy of the most recent will that Victor Garrett claimed to have written. We are forced to go by one that was written over a year ago."

I catch on pretty quickly and fold my arms across my chest. "When Jackson was alive. I assume he is confirmed as owner in addition to remaining president."

"Not exactly." He's already wincing. "Mrs. Garrett, this is not ideal."

"I'm the one acting on my husband's behalf, which means I am entitled to whatever Victor—"

"It's worse than that." He clears his throat. "Victor was insistent that the two Garrett heirs would work together to run the company." He gives a pathetic cough. "Male heirs."

I roll my eyes and settle on my heels. "Try that. I'll see you in court. I dare you."

"I agree," Ernest says quickly, eager to appease me. I'm the one who now signs his checks. "As you said, you can act on Jackson's behalf."

"But…?"

"But all the assets and company are now split in two. You get fifty percent and—"

"Oh no," I mumble, running through all the male heirs from Victor's family.

Damian Blake-Garrett.

"Yeah," Ernest mumbles. "Damian Garrett now owns the other half."

Damian is standing across the room, having a serious-looking conversation with his mother, Jax's aunt, Audrey. She's a bitter old woman who thinks her son is the greatest thing to walk the planet, and her father an idiot for not recognizing it, too. Damian's in his forties now; it's time his mother let it go.

Based on their body language as they're talking, I imagine word has already gotten to them that Ernest has some information that they think they need to know.

Damian, much to my irritation, got most of the Garrett good looks and none of the Blake arrogance. Probably for the best; the Garretts are good enough at arrogance as it is. He might be just shy of double my age, but there's still the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach every time he looks curiously over at me that tells me that he knows exactly what he's doing. He's handsome in the opposite way Jackson was; Damian's distant and mysterious, with a gym-built body and a good six inches on Jackson in height. It'd be almost impressive if he wasn't securely under Audrey Garrett-Blake's thumb. As with any attractive man I've met in my life other than my husband, I squash down any images my brain suddenly wants to project into my thoughts and turn back to the conversation with one of Brooke's bridesmaids I'm supposed to be having.

I flicker my gaze over at them several times during the conversation before Audrey sashays over to where Ernest has planted himself next to a gorgeous fiddle-leaf fig and the extravagant open bar.

Eleanor notices my gaze and scowls. There's a clear hierarchy in the Garrett family. Victor was at the top, his son next, his daughter last, and his grandsons are somewhere in the middle. No one else matters. Eleanor gets a higher spot in the family due to her marriage to Victor's son, and I get a higher spot due to my marriage to Victor's grandson, but Audrey and Eleanor have been warring for decades. Audrey has thirty years on Eleanor, but is more than happy to get her claws out the second she seems slighted in any way. And now that the three men in her way are gone—Victor, his son, his grandson—Audrey thinks it's her time to shine. She's the oldest blood Garrett family member still living, but she didn't get much out of the deaths.

"Is she still trying to get something out of all this?" Eleanor mutters low to me. "You think the family had been through enough."

I give her a vague smile and focus my attention on Brooke's glorious wedding day and not the sparking electricity of family politics threatening to set us all on fire.

The gloves are off the second the wedding is over. Audrey gives me a self-assured smile over the top of the car taking the bride and groom off to their glamorous honeymoon–paid for by Garrett money, of course.

"Amelia," Audrey says with a sugary sweet smile, crossing the path to me. She clasps her hands around mine and fakes a kiss to both of my cheeks. "I'm so glad you could make it. I suppose you're still family, after all."

I square my shoulders. "I wouldn't miss Brooke's wedding for the world, regardless of her relatives."

Audrey's smile hardens into ice before melting with a quick glance as her son approaches. "Damian, my dear. Come give your commiserations to your cousin's wife. I'm sure it'll mean a lot coming from someone so high up in the company."

There's a flurry of activity near me as Damian arrives at my side.

"Oh, shove your head in a fountain, Audrey," Eleanor snaps. "The cold water will do you some good."

Damian and I stare at each other, ignoring the two women bickering next to us. His gaze is almost… soft. Like he's mentally apologizing for the behavior of his mother. There's that stirring again inside the pit of my stomach that tells me more than it should about his closeness. He smells like strawberries from the champagne and something sharp, like gin.

"Mr. Blake," I murmur, refusing to break eye contact first.

"Mrs. Garrett."

Audrey tunes her sister-in-law out suddenly, twisting her whole body to block her out. She puts a hand on my arm and gives me a sardonic smile.

"Oh, darling. We decided, didn't we, Damian? Damian's now going to go by Garrett. Take my last name. For when he's named as President of MVM."

I chuckle softly and turn my gaze to Damian. "Good luck with that…" I raise my eyebrows. "Mr. Blake."

I walk away, Eleanor following at my heels. "That… bitch!" Eleanor huffs.

My mother-in-law has cursed maybe five times in her entire life, and at least four of them have been in relation to Audrey Garrett-Blake.

"She thinks Damian can take your job? You heard about the… well, the—" She makes a face, indicating something far more serious than several disgruntled ex-lovers and far too many tabloids of his escapades.

Damian might be a Garrett by blood, but Victor had refused Damian to work for the company long before he died. I only have a vague understanding that it had something to do with a woman, one of Victor's employees, and Damian in there somewhere. A lot of the information came from family gossip, which may not be reliable. It surprised me that Victor still regarded Damian as enough of a family member to name him in his will.

He's a chef. From what I can tell through gossip and the tabloids, he works hard, expects a level of perfection from everyone around him and has very little to do with the Garrett family until it suits him. The Damian Blake Restaurant Group is very successful. His restaurants have been nominated for and received awards. I've managed to completely avoid them all, even the nearest one and his flagship restaurant, The Secretary. He's been married three times, but only one lasted longer than six months, and any other relationship is splashed through the tabloids about the "Bad Boy Chef" and his latest conquest.

All of that was known by Victor. In fact, I'd insisted on showing him. If Jackson had stayed in the president's seat, I would have had full control. Damian wasn't taking that away from me now.

My car drives up to the curb, and I tug Eleanor towards it. Edgar, our driver, gives me a warm smile as he opens the door.

"Evening, Amelia, Miss Eleanor. Had a good night?"

Eleanor pats his cheek tenderly. "Hello, my dear. It was a lovely wedding, wasn't it, Amelia?"

I nod in agreement and climb into the car. "We might have a problem," I murmur when the door shuts behind us. "Let's go home, and we'll discuss."

She eyes me suspiciously. She's had one too many champagnes to get through the day, but she eagerly grabs another one. She hands one out to me, but there's a dizziness in my head that tells me I've had too many already.

I wait until we're speeding towards her sprawling estate, only a few houses down from mine and Jackson's now quiet, empty one. I've been staying with Eleanor until I can brave staying at mine alone, but it hasn't happened yet. I stayed with her the night he died and never really left. Eleanor's not wanting for space either. I take a deep breath and look at her.

"Victor gave Damian and Jackson equal shares in the business when he died."

"Really? What has Damian done for—"

"It doesn't matter. We can't find an updated will." I sigh and tap my finger against my chin as I stare out the window, lost in thought.

"Well, buy him out. You control Jackson's assets now. I'll put my support behind you. Audrey can't do a lot. Don't let her get under your skin, dear. She's jealous. I'm surprised she was even mentioned in the will. I thought Victor only acknowledged men. Regardless, she shouldn't have been. She's a rotten branch on the family tree."

I exhale a laugh and regard her. "Neither of us are born Garretts, yet here we are."

She holds her champagne glass out to me. "And we're here to stay, Amelia. We have far more power than they realize."

I sigh and stare at the window again. As long as I can keep Damian Garrett at bay, everything is going to work out.