Chapter 2

Damian

I open my eyes as Josh's unimpressed face looms over me as I try to get over my hangover by lying on a bench. The fluorescents aren't helping.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he snaps.

"If you could lower your voice by about ten decibels and switch the lights off? That would be great."

Josh narrows his eyes. "We're in a busy gym. No, I'm not going to switch the lights off. I'm speaking in a very normal tone of voice."

He walks to the weight rack, mumbling under his breath, and I sit up slowly, watching his disappearing back. Having your best friend as your personal trainer is a good idea in theory but terrible in practice.

"My baby sister got married. What did you expect?" I say as he returns, deliberately adding weight to my bar.

"Your baby sister is thirty-four, and this is her second wedding. I don't give a Garrett a single second of sympathy," he says blandly. "Now, ten reps. Let's go."

He stands and watches as I struggle. There's a special place in hell for personal trainers who enjoy a hungover client.

"There are rumors," I pant, shoving the bar back on the rack. I sit up and lean on my knees. "Victor left half the company to me."

Josh cocks his head. "Oh, really? Fuck, man. You're going to sell?"

"Thinking about it." I breathe air out of my lungs slowly. "The only problem is the other half."

We're interrupted by two smoking hot twins, their exposed tits leading the way, walking through the gym. They turn heads, they know they do, but both of their gazes are trained on me. Perfect. I give it ten minutes, and I'll have the both of them in the palm of my hand. Josh flicks a glance at me and sighs, leaning on the closest equipment.

"Morning, Damian," Tessa says, sticking her chest out and batting her eyelashes. "It's good to see you."

"You too, baby." I catch her sister's eye. "Haven't seen you in a while, Tori."

Tori smirks. "I'll have you know, I'm now single."

My eyebrows fly up my forehead. "Now, who would let a gorgeous woman like you out of his sight?" She giggles, and I lean towards her. "Well, if you help me get out of these reps with Josh here, maybe we could see what the steam room is like now that you're back."

Tessa pouts, and I gently tuck her hair behind her ear. "You can come too, baby. Plenty of room for all of us. How about I meet you there in five minutes?"

Josh rolls his eyes as they agree and turn back in the direction they came. "Why do they fall for that? I'm hotter than you, and they didn't even look at me."

"You just need to be confident. You'll find someone."

He shakes his head and gets back to our earlier conversation. "So, who's the other half? I assume some old guy on his deathbed."

"Wrong."

"A young guy on his deathbed?"

"A young woman. If she was on a bed, I wouldn't fucking mind, let me tell you."

Josh hums appreciatively. "I thought you said problem. A woman is no match for you. We both know it. We literally just watched it happen."

I fall back onto the bench and prepare for another set. "My cousin Jackson's wife."

"Which one was Jackson? Was he the guy that went to Vegas and came home with an alpaca?"

"No, that was Shawn." I frown. "I don't even think he was related. He just appeared. And disappeared." I squint. "So did that alpaca, come to think of it. Jackson was Victor's Golden Grandchild."

Josh chuckles and gets back to the subject at hand. "So, she's married, so what?"

"Jackson's widow."

Josh winces. "Oh, well, that's less than ideal. Although now you don't get the satisfaction of him reacting to it."

That's an understatement. There's no reason I should feel attracted to anyone my teacher's pet of a cousin also felt attracted to, but there's something about Amelia Garrett that is pleasing to the eye. Long, blonde hair she always wears up, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, curvy in all the right places, and athletic… she's a knockout. And a fighter, I can tell. It's not going to be easy to put her in her place, but I enjoy a struggle now and then. Might as well take up the challenge.

"Uh oh," Josh says. "I recognize that look. You're going to show her who's boss now, aren't you?"

I smirk, a plan forming in my head. She might have control now, but she's got another thing coming. I get back to my workout so I don't miss a second with the twins.

"Mr. Blake," Amelia's receptionist says with a polite smile. "Mrs. Garrett will see you now."

I smirk at her and continue down the hallway. As if Amelia had a chance to stop me.

She moved into Victor's office damn quickly. Many years of "I'm disappointed" lectures from my grandfather have happened here. Amelia isn't in the room when I walk in, so I wander around the desk and sit at it. Good solid oak desk, been in my family for generations. And now Amelia is trying to claim she has rights to something that isn't even hers?

I lean back and study a wedding photo of Amelia and Jackson she has on her desk. Jackson and I hadn't always been at odds, but that's only because Jackson was ten years younger than me, and our interactions were few and far between. I barely knew the guy. It didn't help that our parents were constantly fighting. Eleanor and Audrey have been beefing about as long as Eleanor has been connected to Andrew Garrett. As far as I knew, he'd do whatever it took to get into Victor's good graces, and that never did sit well with me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp voice says from the doorway. I turn to see Amelia, her cool gaze trained on me, her shoulders tight. There's none of the warm, glittering version of her I saw at the wedding. She's calm, professional, and isn't going to take any Garrett family shit.

I clasp my hands and don't move, cocking my head to the side with a smirk. "I thought I'd get used to it. Or are you unaware that I own this company now?"

Her expression hardens, and she walks confidently over towards me. "Prove it," she says darkly.

I chuckle. That's not what I thought she'd say. She's tougher than she looks, apparently.

"Get out of my chair," she snaps. "And my office while you're at it."

"Don't we have a meeting today?"

"Call it canceled."

I laugh and move to look at the bookshelves, wondering how much I'm going to change before I inevitably sell it. This whole thing would be a better use of money and time refocusing on my restaurants. Adding some hotels to my projects would be a perfect mix. Douglas Bright of Altair Resorts can have all the rest. He's been lusting after MVM properties for years.

"Regardless of personal feelings," I murmur back to Amelia, who is trying her hardest to ignore me. I pull the envelope out of the inside of my jacket pocket and wave it in the air like a white flag. "I have reason to believe that I own this company."

"Half."

"And Jackson owns the other half, who… sorry for your loss… but isn't around to claim it."

"I am on his behalf," Amelia snaps.

I sigh sadly and fall heavily into the chair across the desk. "Have you read the fine print, Mrs. Garrett?" I look at her with a fake apologetic smile. "Doesn't seem like you have. I have. I have had several people combing every single word of the will."

"Of course you have. How much company money did you waste doing that?"

"Out of pocket," I said calmly. "But, I learned that Ol' Gramps wasn't too sympathetic to women in positions of power."

The control slips off Amelia's face, and a dark scowl floods her features. "What are you saying, Damian? What clause are you going to attempt to revoke? Because I will be using company money to fight a war I am definitely going to win."

She's serious, too. Up close, I didn't realize how young she was. I settle into my chair and study her. "How old are you, Amelia?"

"That's none of your business," she hisses. "My age has nothing to do with how to run a business, which is exactly the same thing I've told Jackson, Victor, and every other entitled, mansplaining member of the Garrett family prior to you. Let me tell you something, Damian. You might be entitled to half this company on paper, but this is my business. You haven't been allowed to step foot on this property for close to four years now, and you think you're going to come in here and take over? Absolutely not. You're in for a shock if you think that's going to happen.

"Victor is gone, which means MVM is making some changes around here, most of them involving the overtly sexist and misogynistic view of the men that enter the doors." She lifts her chin defiantly. "You can try me if you want, but I warn you of the outcome. My ability to do this job has nothing to do with what's in my gorgeous, tailored, one-of-a-kind pants—" She slowly drops her gaze over me before returning to my face. "Or what's been in yours."

I collect my thoughts. This is going to be harder than I thought. I've had my fair share of stubborn women, and I don't usually allow them to work so closely with me for obvious reasons. I blow air out of my lungs heavily before bracing my hands on the armrests of the surprisingly comfortable chair. One point in Amelia's favor, she's got good taste in furniture. "I guess we'll see each other when we take this to court then. See you there, sweetheart."

Amelia surprisingly doesn't react. She lets the comment roll over her rigid shoulders. "Goodbye, Mr. Blake."

I need to work harder to break this girl, I can tell. I point to the chair I just vacated. "One benefit to a woman in the driver's seat—God help us—much more comfortable chairs. Can't wait to take yours." I wink at her, but she turns to type something on her computer without acknowledging it.

"Mine is filled with the balls of the men that have tried to fuck with me. Can't wait to add yours, champ."

I laugh. "My ex-wives have already been there, doll, not much for left for you."

Her blue eyes lock onto mine. "So, you just willingly admitted that you submit when you try to cross dangerous and independent women?" A flicker of a smirk crosses her lips before she turns back to her computer. "Good to know. See you later, sweetheart. Don't let the door hit that gorgeous Garrett sense of entitlement on the way out."

I bite my tongue and let myself out, unable to stop the grin on my lips. I stop and look at her assistant on the way out. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," I say with a wink.

"God help us all, Mr. Blake," she says easily. "Have a good day."

I watch three of my junior chefs closely as they handle the dinner rush at The Secretary. I only had to step in once, but they're doing better than I'd assumed they would. I'm determined to be a better teacher than the jackass that taught me. When I'd started The Secretary—the restaurant that kicked off the rest of my group—it was through sheer willpower that I had done it without a scrap of money or sponsor from a single member of the Garrett family. Now I'm here, The Secretary is going well, I have four other restaurants in California and my next opening in Palm Springs in a few weeks.

It's nice to be back in my kitchen where at least I know I belong. Amelia's ability to disarm me at every turn has rattled me more than I thought she could.

The ma?tre d' pokes her head into the kitchen, distracting me from my thoughts. "Chef, there's someone out here that requested you by name."

She has a look about her that lets me know exactly what type of guest I've been asked to join.

"Yes, ma'am," I mutter. I glance at my juniors. "I'll be outside. Keep it up. Don't burn that roux, Kelly. Carter, if you take your eyes off that oven, I'll glue them to it."

His eyes widen, and his head whips to look at the oven. I know he's not going to move for another ten minutes at least. I push out into the main restaurant and spot the young actress sitting by the bar alone.

"Alicia Grant," I say softly as I approach her. "The perfect image to accompany my food. You should be the model."

She practically melts instantly. Perfect. "Mr. Garrett, I was told your food was the best around, but no one said anything about your charm."

"Ah, you're not talking to the right people." I round the bar and grin at her as she pushes her shoulders back, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Drink? On the house." I pick up her hand as if it's the most delicate jewel on the planet. "No one could ask hands as gorgeous as these to reach into their purses, could they?"

"They might reach into yours," she purrs.

"Baby, whatever you want is yours, but let's start with that drink."

She simmers in the attention and looks up at me, dark makeup surrounding deep, other-worldly green eyes. Contacts, most likely. In the same way, the breasts are one size too big for natural, the lips lusciously plump, and the hair is just the perfect shade of brown. Not an inch of her is out of place or less than perfect. She licks her red lips and shimmies her shoulders. "Surprise me," she breathes.