Love in Numbers: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Love Distilled Book 1)

by Scarlett Cole

  As soon as the words had left his mouth, he felt the strength in them. In that moment, the only thing he wanted to walk away from this mess with was Emerson. If he lost his job, his company, even the tenuous relationship he had with his father, so be it. What was it his mother had said? All those sacrifices you make for someone you love don’t feel like sacrifices. He finally understood what she meant.

  He placed his hand on her cheek, breathing a sigh of relief when, for a moment, she leaned into it before pulling away.

  Emerson inhaled deeply. “There’s something you should know. Your father wasn’t mad about losing the distillery…”

  What?

  “What do you mean?”

  She tilted her head in the direction of the office. “Come look at this.”

  Connor followed her, and once in there, she handed him a letter. He recognized his father’s handwriting immediately.

  Rebecca,

  I need to go away…

  I can’t sit here and watch you and Paul go on about your lives as if I meant nothing to you…

  You never gave us a chance…

  I have torn up the check you sent me. Do you really think this was about the money?

  It was never about the money. It was about you.

  “It was about your mother?” Connor asked, shock muddling his brain.

  Emerson nodded. “It appears so. There’s the check.”

  Connor looked at the fragments that had carefully been put back together on Paul Dyer’s desk.

  “I checked our personnel file, everything. I have no record of him on the books. Nothing.”

  “There is one place,” Connor said, his mouth still dry from the revelation. “He’s in the photograph taken the day before the distillery opened.”

  “You’re sure?” She reached for an envelope on top of one of the filing cabinets. As she rifled through the files inside, Connor could see they were the photos from the evening she’d shown him.

  “That one,” he said quickly, stopping her. “Right there.” He pointed to his father, and for a moment, they were both silent.

  “Em, I know this is all a lot to process for both of us, but I—”

  “I’m tired, Connor. And I need some time to think about this.” Emerson placed her hand to her forehead.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got some gym clothes in the back, and I can go get us some food. We can talk some more.”

  Emerson put her hand on his arm. “No, Connor. I need some time. Time on my own to think this through. To process what you said. I can’t do that with you here. I need some breathing room. I need you to go.”

  As his heart raced, he searched her face for clues. A part of him wanted to stay, to convince her that they could work through this together…but one thing he respected was her absolute right to process this however she needed to.

  “I’ll go. But know two things, Em. I love you. More than any of this. More than my job, my company, my dad. And second, I have faith in you as the CEO of Dyer’s. It doesn’t matter what my father wants to do, even if he comes to you directly without me, don’t sell. You’ll do more with Dyer’s than he ever could. Act like the owner you are.”

  With his heart breaking for her, and for them, Connor turned and left Emerson’s father’s home, making sure he locked the door behind him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As the sun peaked above the horizon, Emerson knew that today was the day she was going to act like the kind of boss she’d always intended to be. If there was a silver lining to the goddamn awful cloud, it should be that.

  She set the coffee to brew and walked to the fridge to get the carton of milk. As she opened the door, she glanced at the funeral order of service she’d left pinned to it. Her father’s face greeted her, as it always did. The sight of his name in the simple gold script that usually made her heart squeeze and stomach churn, for once, brought a sad smile to her face.

  “Oh, Dad,” she said, wishing he were still here to whisper guidance.

  You can do this, Em.

  The voice in her head blended with tones of her father’s, such that she didn’t know whether the words of motivation were her own or a message from him. Sleep had been tenuous. She’d spent most of the night trying to make sense of everything Connor had told her, and everything she had learned about the one-sided love affair between her mother and Connor’s father. Love affair was the wrong word. It was neither love, nor an affair from her mother’s perspective. Just one man’s attempt at owning a woman who didn’t feel the same way.

  But Connor shouldn’t be blamed for the sins of his father, just like she shouldn’t be held responsible for the sins of hers, right? After all, hadn’t he tried to deflect his father to protect her?

  She finished making the coffee, extra strong, and took one last glance at her face in the mirror. What was the saying about how you’re braver than you believe and stronger than you seem? A. A. Milne, she remembered. With a sip of her coffee, she sincerely hoped that was true today.

  Concealer covered the bags under her eyes, blush added a pink, fresh hue to her cheeks. And her resilience muscles were firing on all cylinders.

  Ali had offered to come over with ice cream, but she’d needed to be on her own. It had mattered to her that she figure out her thoughts without letting anyone else influence her.

  Connor had been right about one thing.

  You’ll do more with Dyer’s than he ever could. Act like the owner you are.

  She put on her usual jeans and blouse, but partnered it with a jacket instead of a sweater, and low-heeled boots.

  Her phone pinged as she walked toward her car. A message. From Connor.

  I woke up thinking about you and then I remembered what had happened yesterday. It was like the most fucking awful dream that you realize is actually real. Please, don’t give up on us…on me. Don’t give up on me.

  There was no way she could reply yet, so instead, she climbed into her car and drove to the distillery.

  When she arrived twenty minutes later, she headed straight to her office and made a list of things that were on her mind, starting with the organizational structure. By ten o’clock, she was done.

  She sat back in her father’s old chair, the leather creaking. While it was a comfort, it wasn’t practical, so she made a note to buy herself a proper office chair with her own money. Unable to resist the notifications on her phone, she opened them. There was another message from Connor.

  Okay. Here’s the thing. I love you. And up until yesterday, we were building something fucking special. Let me make this right. Let me show you how much you mean to me. Where are you? I have something I need to tell you.

  Emerson placed her phone back down on the desk, her heart like a yo-yo between her throat and stomach.

  At ten thirty, Olivia and Jake walked into her office as she’d requested.

  “Finch Liquor Distribution felt like we were an at-risk distillery that they would be able to purchase at a rock-bottom price. We are not going to let that happen,” she said.

  “Wow,” Jake replied. “That’s quite the opening to this meeting.”

  “Connor did what?” Olivia said at the same time.

  Both looked shocked.

  “This is going to take a lot of explaining, but there’s something you need to know about how the distillery got off the ground, to make sense of everything.”

  She pulled Donovan’s letters out of her purse and explained everything she now knew about his role in the start of the distillery, ending with his final letter to their mother.

  “From the letters, I don’t think Mom was ever unfaithful to Dad. I think Donovan wanted Mom to be his and was crushed when she didn’t respond to his advances, which appeared to include investing in the distillery to win her over.”

  Olivia shook her head and reached for the final letter. “I wonder why Mom and Dad never mentioned it?”

  “Why would they?” Jake said. “It’s not exactly relevant. Old acquaintances. Old memories. He
didn’t mean anywhere near as much to them as they obviously did to him. Donovan Finch carried a grudge for a fuck-ton of years because he lost a business, a woman, and a possible friend in Dad. I don’t condone what he did, but that had to hurt. And assuming the guy wasn’t wealthy, it was a lot of money back then. Like, twenty to thirty thousand or something.”

  Emerson nodded her agreement. “Doesn’t make it right, but it certainly adds perspective.”

  Olivia took her hand. “So, how does Connor fit in to all this?”

  Emerson rolled her head from side to side, loosening the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. “That’s where it gets complicated.”

  She explained the series of events, how Connor was intrigued by this story that caused such anger in his father, and how Finch Liquor Distribution needed to change strategy before he and Emerson even met. And how there was an overlap of his feelings for her and his responsibilities to the company.

  “So you kicked him to the curb, right?” Jake said.

  Olivia shook her head. “That must be awful for you both. Him caught between you and his father. You caught between him and the distillery.”

  Jake looked at Olivia. “Are you shitting me? The guy pulled a dick move on Em.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Yeah. He did. But some of the best meet-cutes are enemies to lovers.”

  Jake did a double take. “Meet-what?”

  “When two people meet for the first time before they fall in love.” Olivia rolled her eyes as if it were obvious.

  Emerson smiled for the first time since the previous morning. “I appreciate the support, both of you. But I didn’t call this meeting to discuss me and Connor. That, I’ve got to figure out on my own. But what I did want to know is how far you both got with the plans we discussed a week ago.”

  Olivia looked at her. “What you need is an afternoon of self-care. You should go home and—”

  “Thanks, Liv.” She didn’t mean to cut her off quite so abruptly, and she knew her sister had her own history of developing the skills to look after herself. “I know you’re concerned, but I’m okay. I did plenty of self-care last night. Well, at least, I did enough to get some clarity. And someone reminded me that I’ve got the skills and the smarts to navigate this company. So, from now on, that’s what I’m going to do. Jake, do you want to go first?”

  Jake studied her carefully. “I just need to say this. I don’t like it—what Connor did. You might be older than me, but I’m still your brother and the only guy left standing in this family. Whatever you and he decide, I’ll be having words with him.”

  Emerson sighed. “I really wish you wouldn’t, even though I appreciate your need to defend me. But I think this family has gone too long with too much left unsaid. I don’t need you to fix this for me, and I certainly don’t want you to ruin it for me, whichever way I decide.”

  Jake nodded and, for a moment, she remembered the petulant child she’d had to coax to crawl. His solemn facial expression reminded her of his early efforts.

  “Understood,” Jake said. “Right, so I had some thoughts about the different labels we currently produce, and here’s what I was thinking.”

  Emerson listened to the plans, making notes, offering suggestions, challenging assumptions. He’d taken her suggestions and made them his own. When Liv took over, Emerson was thrilled to see that not only had Liv done the same, but she’d met with Jake outside the distillery to work on branding ideas together.

  “One big component is to restart events in December,” Liv said. “Christmas means peak times for gathering. A wedding planner called to ask about availability on Christmas Eve for a discrete celebrity wedding and is bringing the couple over next week. I’m going to start the campaign from there. Parties, small weddings. We’ll need to rehire some staff because we let everyone go when it became clear the events hall wasn’t going to reopen. We can start light. Easy-to-make-ahead foods…charcuterie, pizzas, desserts. Let us organize your work event, that kind of thing. See if we can’t get some movement. I figured full staff Thursday through Saturday, part-time for the rest of the week. It’s still the first week in November; not everybody has made New Year’s plans yet. The tasting rooms can hold eighty people max, but for a black-tie event, we could sell the tickets for a hundred bucks. Minus costs, we’d still make a decent profit.”

  “I love it,” Emerson said. “I love the plans. Let’s see what we can pull off before Christmas. Olivia, what about you when it comes to moving out?”

  “I don’t want to rush looking or hold up the sale. I’m hoping I can crash at one of yours if the closing date ends up being before I have found a place.”

  Emerson and Jake both nodded their heads. “Of course.”

  “I gotta go,” Jake said, heading for the door. “I left a batch running, and I need to go check it to see if I need to cut the tail yet.”

  “And what about you and Connor?” Liv asked, once Jake was gone.

  Emerson blew out a breath. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Olivia stood and gathered her things. As she passed Emerson, Liv placed her hand on her shoulder. “You two are so good together. I’m probably being some kind of naive Pollyanna, and I understand you’re hurt. But in some ways, it just proves how similar you are.”

  Emerson looked up at her sister. “How so?”

  “Because you were both trying to handle everything on your own, when what you should have done is allow others to help.”

  The words struck her like a blow. Had they really been that similar in their approaches? She had been trying to protect her siblings, Connor had tried to protect her. At the end of the day, when it mattered, he’d tried to dissuade his father.

  But what future did they have if his father hated her on sight?

  Connor knew he was supposed to stay away from the building, but it was no use.

  He’d swum, he’d worked out, and he’d ran. He’d drunk whiskey with Charles because the idea of drinking gin or drinking alone was just too much. Charles had listened, called him a fucking bell-end, then had lent his ear and wisdom.

  As a result, Connor knew he had to sort himself out before he could fix things with Emerson.

  And now that he knew the truth of what was in his own heart, he needed to speak to his father. Without his pass, he couldn’t just walk inside. But thankfully, the security guards knew him, and, because his father hadn’t taken any action beyond retaining Connor’s card, they manually let him through the barriers to the elevators.

  On the way to his father’s office, he ran through all the things he needed to say. His father wasn’t going to be pleased to see him but that was the very least of his problems. He needed to make sure that his uncle wasn’t there because he had some home truths to deliver.

  That was the reason he was there so early. His uncle never hit the office before nine.

  Connor shook his hands, something he did routinely before he dove into the water. He visualized the nerves he carried flying from his fingertips like water droplets, allowing his fingers to fill instead with adrenaline that would power him through the race.

  Somehow, this meeting felt more important, more vital.

  As he rounded the corner, he saw his father, coat still on, disappear into his office. Connor’s footsteps hastened as he hurried to catch him before he started making calls.

  “Dad,” he said as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. “We need to talk.”

  His father turned. “I thought I’d taken your pass away. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “You did. But I learned some really important information last night that I think you should be made aware of.”

  His father glared at him. “Go home, Connor. I’m too mad to talk to you rationally.”

  Connor walked toward the desk, where his father was currently getting comfortable. He put his palms on the ornate desk he’d once thought he’d end up sitting behind.

  “How did he find out?” he demanded.

  “Connor, this won�
��t get us—”

  “How did he know?”

  “He saw you leaving Maison Noir together.”

  Connor sighed. Given their charged mood when they’d left the restaurant, there would have been no misconstruing their relationship. “Cameron provided Emerson with a copy of the strategy document. She knows all about your intentions.”

  His father’s eyes suddenly met his. “That is a bold insinuation, Connor.”

  “To deliberately cause trouble, Cameron sent my copy of the strategy deck to Emerson. He knew she would read it, and she was rightfully furious. Cameron broke every single company rule when he sent it to her.”

  Lines furrowed his father’s forehead. “Don’t be ridiculous, Connor. She probably found it while snooping around your apartment. Or perhaps you left it at her place deliberately.”

  Connor shook his head. “Nope. It was sent to the distillery for her attention. And I left that document locked in my office on Friday. Cameron saw us in the restaurant on Friday, and suddenly this document is in her hand Monday morning?”

  His father’s fingertips drummed the edge of the table. “Still don’t buy it, Connor. You’re just mad because of what happened yesterday. And as you said, it was locked in your office.”

  “Our passes all open each other’s doors, remember? Yours, Cameron’s, and mine. And it will take you two seconds to call security and find out whether Cameron let himself into the office over the weekend, something he normally never does.”

  Donovan looked toward Cameron’s office. “I have to admit, this all feels a little pathetic.”

  Connor’s rage spilled over. “Pathetic? I’ll tell you what’s pathetic. Cameron’s games. He’s played you, and now he’s attempting to play me. It’s never going to work, the two of us in this company. I’ve outgrown all of this.”

  It was true. If he’d wanted backstabbing and intrigue, he’d have gone to Wall Street and made a killing. Instead, he’d followed the path expected of him, and had found the same behavior; he just didn’t get paid enough to tolerate it.