Chapter 19
Nineteen
AMARA
“ I want you to look at these.” A folder fell into my lap. I glanced at my father. He was dressed casually today. It was Saturday. A polo and khakis made him look like he was outfitted for yard work. He rarely budged from his Italian suits.
“What?”
“Numbers on last quarter,” he explained before walking away. “Go over them, and I’ll see you in my office in an hour to discuss how we can project the fourth quarter. Take notes. Have them ready.”
“Really?”
“Financials aren’t something I joke about.” His eyes were softer than his voice, but I knew to take him seriously. “Ask your Uncle Gio.”
“Of course not.” I pressed my lips together. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”
I didn’t argue, but I stared at the back of my father’s head as he disappeared from the living room. I was watching a marathon of Choose Cheer before he interrupted. I pressed the mute button on the remote and flipped open the file. The spreadsheets were clipped together. I began to leaf through them.
I’d never seen his profit and loss statements before. Why now?
I sorted the reports into stacks. I only had an hour to make sense of them. That didn’t leave me much time. I was also painfully aware I was still in my pajamas. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun. I hadn’t bothered with makeup. I’d resorted to the same routine for days. A week. Since the horrible afternoon when I last saw Luka.
When he had kicked me out of his bed. Out of his apartment. Out of his life.
The first two days I stayed in bed, curled into a ball. I was too numb or sore to move. Too sick to eat. If I thought about him or remembered the way he said ty moya and I repeated it back to him, my stomach twisted until I was queasy.
I clung to my pillow, sometimes clawing it, punching it, sobbing into it. Why? I cycled through the same questions. Why seduce me? Why promise me an escape? Why take me to an ethereal realm of sex and passion only to dunk me beneath an icy surface? He pursued me relentlessly. Why?
Something had to change. I couldn’t continue like this. Staying in bed. Living in Pjs. Turning my nose up at food. Financials might be the solution I had never considered. I drew the files into my arms and marched upstairs to my suite. I could apply makeup and read financials at the same time.
B y the time I entered my father’s office, Tammy, one of the maids, was on her way out. She had left a tray of tea. It was the full silver service, something my father usually reserved for important clients. Something that was hauled out and polished to demonstrate he had taste. He was as refined as any other man.
“Sit,” my father spoke. He pointed to the table by the bay window. It jutted out into the garden close to one of the fountains.
“Over here?” I usually sat on one side of the desk, and he on the other. Always being scolded and instructed like a student.
“Yes, Tammy brought tea. She said you like orange. I’ve never tried it.”
“I do. Thank you.” I carried the file with me and sat at the table. This felt off. I cautiously prepared my tea with a few sugar cubes, stirring them gently in the fine porcelain cup.
The tea service had been a wedding gift from my grandparents. I’d heard about it several times. How much my mother loved it. How she liked to polish it herself, afraid one of the servants would scratch it.
I was always careful with it, but I could never bring myself to use my parents’ wedding gift. It sat on the edge of the table. I noticed my father wore his readers. Glasses that he reserved for fine print and intense reading.
He looked over the frames. “All right. What do you have for me?”
“I didn’t have much time to go into all the details in the reports, but I think I have a few things to share with you. ”
“I’m interested to hear what those things are. Specifics, Amara. I want to hear your specific thoughts.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat.
“Start with shipping,” he directed. “You did read that report first, didn’t you?”
One of the sheets of paper fluttered to the floor. “Oh, wait. I’m sorry.” I heard him exhale while I crawled under the table, collected my notes, and pushed back into my seat.
“Are you prepared or not?”
“I am.” I flattened out the sheet. My notes seemed frivolous now that I was about to read them to my father. “Okay, shipping.” It sounded as if I was about to perform a book report in front of the class. Something I barely remembered, but the feeling was familiar. There was a knot in my stomach and the inescapable pressure to perform perfectly. On command.
My father’s attention was sharp and focused. The words I chose mattered. Each one represented my analysis of the last quarter’s shipping efforts since he had redistributed half the company to New Orleans. It was going to take another year to make the full shift, but that was part of my recommendation for the fourth quarter.
“I think it would be a good idea to keep a quarter of the shipping in the northeast. I know you intended to be a hundred percent invested here, but I think the last quarter shows that the northeast is still strong, and you can keep diversifying. It’s safer and the profits are too dependable to shut that down and move it. Let Uncle Gio carry that burden.”
He folded his hands together in his lap. “What about the hotels? The boutique one. Vieux Carre. I’m sure you know by now the Novikovs don’t want me to buy it. They don’t think I’ve paid my dues here. But it’s valuable and they want it for a reason.”
I knew more about the boutique hotel now than I had when Luka first mentioned it.
“Papa, I think you should go for it.” I smiled. “That hotel will symbolize your position in this city. You can’t let the Novikovs push you aside because you’re new blood. There’s nothing wrong with new blood. I think New Orleans could use a little bit of it.”
My reasons may have been personal for targeting the only thing I knew Luka cared about, but I had made a strong business case for the Amato family. My father agreed.
His eyes widened. “Those are my thoughts exactly, but I was wondering what you would say.” He grinned.
It wasn’t often I witnessed my father look genuinely happy. I saw his fingertips twitch as if he was considering reaching out to pat me in some way. Congratulate me for arriving at the conclusion he saw from the beginning. However, he didn’t know I was capable of sharing his business strategies.
Neither did I.