G3 Excerpt

Here's another excerpt from Gabardi Three, aka Alberto and Charlotte's story, aka the book that has no title. At least, not yet.

This is the last scene in chapter one, very much a proof draft so excuse any typos etc.

CHARLOTTE APPLETON STARED at the divorce papers in her hand and was shocked to find just how unsettling it felt.

Not upsetting. The marriage had lasted eight years and the last year had been so distant it had been no surprise that she and Kane didn’t have a chance of making it to the ten-year-mark. But it had been a whole decade of her life. A whole decade she had devoted to the man and now it was all over.

There were barely any remnants of the marriage in her mind, either, because she had been doing her best to get rid of those.

She slotted the papers into the bedside drawer where she kept such things.

Things such as the paperwork from that last horrible year of her mother’s life.

What a devil of a time to not only lose her mother but to lose her marriage?

Although she’d had plenty of time to say goodbye to her mother. Just as she had when she’d gone from Charlotte-and-Kane to just Charlotte, because that had happened over time, too.

Plenty of time.

She slammed the drawer shut, then opened the drawer slowly, and closed it gently.

There was no need to take it out on the furniture.

She checked her bag one more time for everything she was going to need while she was away.

Two months leave from her job as an editor at one of New York’s top publishing houses. Although for how long, she didn’t know, such was the world of publishing, with restructures and merges and enough drama to keep the actual authors at the desks writing novels based on it, for decades to come.

But it had not been difficult to get the time off. In the past year, insanely so, in spite of her personal life falling apart, two of her authors had achieved number one best seller status, another had sold the rights to a novel which was in movie production right now, and Charlotte had bought a debut author whose book had just hit all the lists in spectacular fashion. Not to mention she’d been handed the job of editing an author in England who was taking forever to hand in her latest opus.

Work, at least, was very, very good.

She pulled the trolley case out to the living area of the apartment she shared with her best friend for the past five years, Lauren. Lauren’s sister had been planning a move to New York so was staying for the next two months to see how it went, which meant Charlotte didn’t have to worry about covering her portion of the rent. Everyone was wining on this

It had all worked out remarkably and conveniently well.

Maybe a little too well?

She pushed aside that thought as she went back to get her second case. She needed this break. She deserved this break, or so she remined herself when her imagination began to wonder down all sorts of scenarios that made her doubt her sanity.

She checked her carry-on bag one time, then pulled out her phone and sent Alberto a message.

Hey, just to let you know, I’m about to head to JFK and this time tomorrow I’ll be in London, I’ll call when I’m settled to so we can meet up to discuss the book.

Satisfied, she sent it. If there was one thing she had no doubts about, it was about helping Alberto with this project. She had flown over one weekend to meet with Salvatore Gabardi and he had given her his blessing.

Of course, the fact this was a personal break as well, might seem like a pointless idea for a break, working on a publishing project, but this was different.

Besides, she’d always felt she’d owed Alberto Gabardi.

From the first time she’d met him, and then to going out with him for those eight months in her final year at Oxford, she’d been crazy about him, and it had been because of him, when she’d known there was no future with them, when he’d very nicely dumped her, that she’d dragged her thoroughly messed up and broken heart to New York, taken the first job in publishing that had come along, and a career had been born.

In a strange—some might even say sick—way, she owed him for not loving her back, for inadvertently sending her back to her home country across the Atlantic.

Even better, when he’d come by a few months ago, when she hadn’t seen him in what had been over a decade, she’d felt none of those old feelings for him at all.

It had all been the most wonderful example of serendipity. Synchronicity.

No attraction at all. Which was a bonus, given she was going to be spending the next month or so meeting him regularly and spending time at the family estate in Italy.

It was all, she told herself, going to be just fine.