Chapter 1
Chapter One
ZOEY
H ave you ever felt as though the person you are now is nothing like the one you wanted to be when you were younger? That at some point, something went horribly wrong and the path that was so clearly mapped out in your mind dissolved into a future that, in hindsight, was inevitable?
My shift was so brutal that I can’t even remember who I pictured myself becoming all those years ago. What my childhood aspirations were.
It’s as if one day, I just—poof—grew up and forgot all the hopes that once filled me with wonder and made my heart pound in my chest. The dreams I once thought would come true (because how could they not?) remained just that: dreams. And as time went by, they faded into mirages that made me question whether they ever existed at all.
It takes strength and stubbornness to keep from being sucked into the gloom of adult life.
And though I may possess those qualities in theory, they failed to rescue me from the vortex. And these days, the gloom of adult life is where I thrive.
Thirty-two years on this earth, and everything I know boils down to my nine-to-five (well, to seven or eight most of the time).
Passion? None. Hobbies? Nonexistent. Relationships?
Married to my job. Some say I have my shit together.
I agree, if shit means my back is fucked from sitting behind a desk all day and I wear anti-fatigue glasses because my life revolves around my phone and my computer.
If that’s the case, then yeah, I’m crushing this. Big time.
“It’s me!” I throw my keys on the small table in the foyer and ease the door closed behind me.
Gustav is already here, waiting for me. “Good evening, miss. Can I help you with your bags?”
“Yes, thank you.” I give him my purse, then my tote bag. “Is my dad here?”
He cracks a knowing smile that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle and nods. “In his usual spot.”
My lips quirk up, too. “Figured.”
I unbuckle the straps of my heels, slip my feet into comfier shoes, and follow Gustav through the maze that is my dad’s house.
When I was little, I would often get lost in this behemoth of a home.
I never stayed with my dad for too long, only on odd weekends and for a week or two during the summer.
Mom didn’t like leaving me here. Probably because she knew I’d spend most of the visit by myself.
My dad worked all the time, and me being with him a few days a month didn’t change that.
But I was never truly alone, because Gustav kept me company.
He helped me with my homework and taught me how to ride a bike, swim, and flip a pancake.
And this gigantic, mostly empty house in West Vancouver was the perfect place to play hide- and-seek with him.
A couple of rounds could stretch into hours.
I’d always wander too deep, caught in the labyrinth of endless corridors.
When we get to the main room, my dad is sitting on a large cream-colored L-shaped couch, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed as he pores over a document.
The French doors are open, the soft summer breeze ruffling the hem of my dress and strands of his graying, slicked-back hair.
Oscar Marchiatto is a creature of habit. His schedule is meticulously planned out by his assistant. Not one second goes to waste. And at seven p.m. on the dot, he catches up on executive tasks he couldn’t get to throughout the day.
I round the back of the couch and pat his shoulder, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. “Hey, Dad.”
He glances up for a fraction of a second, then returns his attention to the document. “Hi, princess. How was work?”
“The usual. Putting out fires before they get a chance to start.” I sit on one end of the couch, eyeing the half-full bowl of what looks like stew on the coffee table. “We launched the new hotel chain today. You know, our affordable line?”
“I heard. Did it go smoothly?”
“Of course it did.” I can’t help the smug satisfaction that bubbles up inside me. “You know me. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Dad looks up again, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know, princess. You learned from the best.”
I did. I spent years shadowing him, memorizing all aspects of the family business, drinking in information greedily, until I knew every facet of it like the back of my hand.
I was relentless in my quest to become the perfect daughter.
To deserve the status of heir to his empire.
I let him shape me into his image so I’d be ready to take over once he retired.
He and I weren’t close when I was a kid.
That changed, though, the moment he saw potential in me.
I don’t exactly remember what I did that caught his attention, but I do remember the shift in his demeanor.
Suddenly, I was worthy of his time, of his interest. No longer a useless child he didn’t know what to do with.
I don’t blame him for it. For tying my worth to my skills. For not showing up until he discovered a reason that served him. The world is full of greedy, selfish people, and my dad is no exception. When I came to terms with that truth, my life got so much easier.
“Lisa dropped off dinner again?” I nod at his plate.
“She says all the junk food I order will kill me,” Oscar grumbles. “As if it won’t be the job that ends me first. If she weren’t the only nice person in this damn neighborhood, I’d have told her to fuck off a long time ago.” He waves at the kitchen. “There’s some left if you want it.”
“Oh, perfect,” I say as I get up. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
In the kitchen, I grab a bowl from the cabinet and fill it with her homemade beef stew. “I like Lisa,” I call over my shoulder. “She keeps tabs on you when I can’t. And she’s not wrong. At your age, you gotta be careful with your cholesterol and blood pressure.”
He waves me off as I come back. “Bunch of nonsense. What difference does it make? I’ll die anyway. If I can’t enjoy the things that make me happy, shoot me now.”
“Don’t have to, old geezer.” I settle back on the couch. “The deep-fried chicken will take care of it for me.”
Mumbling, he goes back to reading, ignoring the TV playing softly in the background.
“What’s got you so focused over there?” I ask.
“My retirement plan strategy. Devon sent it to me today. I have to approve it.” He raises one eyebrow. “Which is why I wanted you to stop by. We need to talk.”
The words grip me like a hand at the throat.
I’m no stranger to the look he’s giving me. Are you finally ready? Can I pass you the torch?
We’ve been doing the same dance for a few years now, and each time he’s broached the subject of his retirement, I’ve backed away, insisting I need a couple more months. Those months have turned into years, and here we are again.
He’s tired. It’s etched in every line on his face. He’s been a hungry businessman his whole life, but the spark that kept him going has been missing for a few years now.
Knowing he’s still hanging on to the job because of me makes my stomach twist.
But am I ready? I want to be. I think. I’ve been the head of our business development team for years. Carrying the weight of the entire company on my shoulders, though? That’s a terrifying thought. Taking up the mantle is a big commitment.
“I know I promised you the job,” he says, the words startling me. “But things have changed. Evolved, if you will. Some shareholders have voiced their… doubts.” His brows are crunched low, a hint of pity threading through his expression.
I frown, taken aback. “Doubts? Doubts about what?”
An awkward silence stretches between us. It’s strange, Dad sitting through it like this. He rarely tolerates hesitation.
“Your reluctance to take my place has been heavily noted, princess,” he finally says, his tone flat.
“You know the business well—you’re my daughter, after all.
But sharing my DNA isn’t enough. You can’t lead a hotel group as large as Imperial Excellence if you don’t want it.
If you’re not hungry for it.” He taps his fingers against his belly.
“Some shareholders aren’t convinced you still do.
At the last board meeting, they decided to start looking for an outside hire. ”
An outside —
“You’d never let them do that,” I say, my pulse picking up.
Dad shrugs. “I’ve put it off as long as I could, but it’s out of my control now.
Of course, you can imagine how disappointed I’d be if my legacy were to be thrown away because you couldn’t muster the courage to show them that you want to take over.
All these years I’ve spent building this company for it to go to someone else?
” He shakes his head, his shoulders deflating. “What a shame.”
I swallow hard, my cheeks flaming. I can’t let my dad down. Can’t give him more reasons to second-guess me. To be ashamed of his own daughter.
He knows exactly what to say to make me forget my fears and doubts. I should hate him for it, but instead, my competitive side takes over, thoughts whirling in my mind.
Do I really want this? I don’t know, and maybe that’s why I’ve been pushing this discussion for so long.
But who cares? An entire group of balding shithead men—the kind who send emails with the whole text in the subject line—think I’m not fit for the job.
That alone is enough to make me crave it.
Even if every bone in my body is telling me to slow down. To consider. To think.
I can’t. There’s no time. My back is against the wall.