Chapter 21
twenty-one
I’m ready.
Sometime between walking out of the bar last night and waking up today, it all clicked inside me.
I’m going to close my first deal. I’m going to tell my dad where to shove his company. I’m going to make Stryker and myself a shitload of money. I’m going to make Juliet beg to have me more than once.
And I’m. Ready. To. Go.
I dress with extra care, selecting a navy suit lined with red pinstripes. It is the outfit the now-infamous pocket square actually belongs with. The crimson coordinates with a matching vest and tie over a white shirt.
I know I’ll have to get rid of the damn handkerchief soon. After wearing it for Juliet all week, I won’t want to use it anymore if I can’t see her again. It deserves one last go-around.
I stride into Everett Alexander thirty minutes late and don’t report to my father’s office for our usual morning pow-wow. When he sends for me around ten a.m., I sit at my desk for another fifteen minutes, weighing my options.
Should I tell him about G she’ll sign a non-disclosure agreement; and, three months down the road, a new blonde will appear in her place.
It suddenly strikes me how utterly fucked that is.
Grayson would never sleep with any of the women who work for his company. Even before he found Ella, I never heard him so much as consider it.
I won’t, either. Not only is it just plain stupid , but the power dynamics of a fifty-year-old executive boning his twenty-two-year-old assistant are dangerously out of balance. Only a sleaze like dear old Dad would get off on such a thing… over and over again.
Bristling, I blow into his office and throw myself into my usual chair. “You bellowed?”
“You were late,” he barks, glaring over the expanse of his antique desk.
I can’t help but look at the wood carvings for the millionth time. Why didn’t I ever notice how garish they are? Why didn’t I see all of the pomp and fluff for what it really is—a way for Dad to cope with his own inadequacies, always at the expense of others.
Doesn’t matter , my brain pings. You’ll have Juliet tomorrow .
“I overslept.”
The lie rolls out so smoothly. I no longer feel even a twinge of guilt for deceiving him. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I don’t want his approval. Earning it suddenly seems like a mistake, almost. A great way to end up just like him .
Nauseated by the thought, I swallow a mouthful of bile and level gazes with him, wishing we didn’t look so damn similar. Wishing, perversely, that Christian could look more like our father than me.
Like the coward he is, Dad drops his stare before I do. “I need those account ledgers back,” he snaps at the desktop. “You’ve had them too long.”
Again with the damn ledgers.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. You’ll have them Monday.”
The old man considers me for a long moment, taking my measure before once more turning his attention to the miscellaneous papers strewn around him. “How can I give you real work to do if you can’t even complete simple data entry in a timely fashion?”
I’ve spent three fucking years doing account reviews, sitting in on meetings, going to bullshit lunches where I can’t speak unless I’m spoken to. He knows I can do the work. He knows I ordinarily turn every assignment in well before his bullshit deadlines. He just wants another excuse to keep me out of any real business.
It isn’t the first time.
But it will be the last .
I smile. “Excellent point. I’ll get them back to you before the end of the weekend. Speaking of which, I was thinking we could grab dinner on Sunday night. On me. Maybe Hillstone?” His favorite place to eat—and pick up women twenty years younger than him.
Startled by my invitation, Dad balks slightly before gaping at me. “Uh… sure.”
I clap once. “Great. I’ll meet you there at five. But right now, I’ve got to run out. I’ll be back before one.”
He nods as if he has some sort of authority over my plans. I let him think he’s dismissed me and stand , eager to get on with my day. Eager to get Uptown. To Juliet.
The meeting , I corrected internally, making for the door. Eager to get to the meeting .