THE DING OF the elevator door pulled me from my thoughts. Mindlessly stepping in, I heard a female voice speak.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Charleston.”
My blank stare met her warm eyes. “Charlie, please call me Charlie.”
She nodded and gave me the same smile I’d been getting for the last week. That’s what happens when both of your parents unexpectedly die at the same time in a car accident. People give you that sad look that says they really don’t know what to say, and “I’m so sorry for your loss” is the only thing they can muster. Do they think it helps? It doesn’t. It’s only a reminder of what’s missing. A reminder of what I was left with.
No one. I was all alone.
They thought their whispered questions went unheard by me, but I heard them all.
What wi
ll she do now? How will she be able to handle it all? Is this place going to stay open? One of the world’s largest consulting firms … is she capable of running it?
Alone.
I was totally alone. I had no one.
“Your father was an amazing man. Not to mention your mother; she was so caring and everyone loved her.”
With a weak smile, I nodded in agreement. The ache in my chest knowing my mother would never see me walk down the aisle or hold a grandchild in her arms nearly had me bursting out in tears. But crying was something I didn’t do. Then you had my father. Oh yes. My father was amazing. He was a lawyer, a businessman, a husband, and a wonderful father. But he demanded everything out of me and expected nothing but perfection from his only child. Needless to say, it was a no-brainer that he talked me out of taking the swimming scholarship to Notre Dame and instead head to his alma mater, The University of Texas. I went to school and achieved my business law degree with a minor in math. I’d do anything to make my father happy, even give up my dreams of owning my own small business and becoming a wife and mother. I didn’t want a corporate life; I wanted a simpler one.
Instead, I dutifully did what I was told and got a degree from The University of Texas. Then I went on to law school … again … at The University of Texas.
The woman cleared her throat, I guess to pull me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t until then that I really took her in. She was older; her blonde hair was pulled up neatly in a tight bun, and her makeup was perfect, as well as her nails. Glancing down at my nails, I hid them behind my back. The evidence of my grief chipped away on each fingernail.
Note to self: Make a spa day appointment. You fucking deserve it.
When the elevator opened onto the top floor, I stared at the numbers. I didn’t even remember hitting a floor number when I walked in.
“I hit the floor number for you, Charles- … I mean, Charlie. The board members are all waiting for you. You’ll meet with the lawyer first in the main conference room next to your father’s office.”
Then it hit me. “You’re Marge, my father’s executive assistant.”
With a warm smile, she nodded politely and used her hand to urge me out before the elevators shut again.
“Yes, now your executive assistant.”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” I said as I quickly walked out and into the main reception area. It wasn’t like I didn’t know where in the hell I was going. My office was down from my father’s. Hell, I even knew that was Marge, my father’s right-hand woman.
For the last few years he had groomed me to take over our family business. I soaked up everything he said and then some. I thought I knew everything I needed to know to run CMI Consulting, at least what I needed to know for now. I’d still have plenty of years of learning under my father’s wing … at least, I thought I would. However, being the CEO of a billion-dollar business was not something I was ready to do at twenty-eight years old. Now I was being thrown into it—frying pan meet fire—and I was scared shitless.
Or was I? This was what my father pushed me so hard for. Day after day he pounded it in my head about running the business his father had started. It was to stay in the family … and the family was to stay in control. Always. Ever since I was a little girl, he would tell me that over and over again. I swear if he could’ve woven it into a bedtime story, I was pretty sure he would have.
“Don’t ever let go of this company. It’s your future. Your children’s future. Your children’s children’s future.”
There was one promise I had made to myself a long time ago. If I was ever blessed with a child, I would never pressure them to do what I wanted them to do. They would have the choice to decide. Not that I wasn’t grateful my father trusted me with his company, because I was. There wasn’t anything I could ever want for; he made sure of that. And this company was the reason.
Swallowing hard, I smoothed out my pencil skirt, tucked my white satin shirt in a little more, lifted my shoulders, and headed to the conference room.
Glancing down at the New York Times on someone’s desk, I stopped in my tracks. Will twenty-eight-year-old Charleston Monroe soon be one of the top five richest women in America? Did we mention she’s single?
Marge gently took my elbow and led me on.
“Just ignore the press. They’re going to want to chew you up and spit you out. Don’t let them. They are just trying to sell a few thousand papers is all.”
Turning to look at her, I was positive I wore a horrified expression. I was on the cover of the fucking New York Times!