Chapter 2 #2
He winced, but nodded. “I had to ask because I know that when you set your mind to something, you stick with it, getting lost in whatever it takes to reach your goal. Even if it means sacrificing more of yourself than you intended.”
My heart stuttered. Was that what I was doing? Sacrificing too much? The question pierced my chest, pulling me from my performance of being a happily engaged woman.
“I would never want that for you because it was never my intention to place you in a position where you felt like you had to do something like that, and I hope you would feel comfortable enough to come to me before making such a life-altering decision. The stipulations were put in place to ensure you had time to explore more of life before thrusting yourself into the role of CEO. I would rather you come to me, and we could find another way.” He swallowed, and his brows pinched tight as if in pain.
“I would be devastated to know I played a part in you giving up on the life your mom and I dreamed for you.”
His sincerity sank into my heart because I knew he meant it.
I knew this could be my moment to confess the truth, and he would do anything he could to help me. He would go back on his plans and do whatever it took to ensure I didn’t have to give up any part of myself or my dreams.
Even if it meant him giving up on his.
Just like he had by coming home early from his golfing trip. I’d worried him, and he’d cut his trip short to make sure I was okay—missing out on one of the opportunities he’d dreamed of for his retirement.
And, according to Lucian’s threat, if I told him the truth, Lucian would make sure my father continued to miss every plan of his retirement.
I took a moment to study him. Despite the deep lines from our conversation, he looked good.
He even had a tan—or as much of one as he could get on his light Irish skin.
He looked more youthful than he had in the ten years since my mother passed.
I took in the missing tie and his easygoing position in the chair and saw a relaxation I knew I couldn’t take from him.
Also, I had to admit he was right about my pride and stubbornness in seeing through my decisions—both good and bad.
Which meant I wouldn’t go back on my lie now.
I wanted to know that I reached majority shareholder of Quinn Music Group and became the CEO on my own.
I wouldn’t be the princess that Lucian accused me of.
With that confirmation ringing through my veins, I banished all doubt and plastered on a smile. “It’s not that, Dad. I want to marry him,” I said, infusing my words with an excited shyness. “He’s passionate and determined to succeed like I am. We have more in common than I originally thought.”
Memory after memory flooded through me of all the ways Lucian and I had come together.
Flashes of him finding me amidst an anxiety attack and helping me through it.
Of him bending me over the desk and shocking me back to reality with the biting pain of his hand against my ass.
Memories of how well he read me when we were on stage at The Berkshire, and his barely controlled reaction to my past after.
Of how he offered to help me with his hand between my thighs and his deep words caressing my ear.
Each moment bolstered my truth more than I originally intended. The realization brought forth words that I knew my father would understand more than anything else I could offer him.
“He sees me. He gets me,” I admitted softly. “And you know how much that means to me.”
My dad sighed—not with impatience, but with relief—and smiled.
And with that simple exhale, I knew I’d made him believe.
A knot released from around my lungs but twisted tight around my heart.
I hated lying to him, but I ignored the twinge as his gaze softened, losing the studious businessman and leaving behind just my dad.
“I’m still surprised as hell,” he admitted with a laugh.
“But I guess it’s not too shocking to hear our daughter fell into the same passion your mother and I had. ”
“That’s what happens when an Irishman and a Hispanic woman have a daughter,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes but came back with a serious stare. “I’m going to have to have a conversation with Lucian. We’ve had more than a handful of meetings together, and not once did the man mention any plans of asking for your hand in marriage.”
“Dad,” I admonished. “I don’t need your approval to marry a man. It’s up to me and only me. Besides, I made him promise not to say anything until I could talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, waving my excuse away with both hands. Then he stood and smiled, nodding for me to stand. “Come give your old man a hug.”
I complied and rounded the desk, sinking into his arms and shoving aside the lingering pang of guilt. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, a stór,” he responded, using the Irish endearment, my treasure, he’d called me since I was born.
“Was there anything else you needed?” I asked when we stepped back.
He smiled down at me. “Nope. Forcing you into a conversation was the only thing on my to-do list.”
“How nice for you.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to the exit. “It is, actually. See, I’m retiring. Therefore, I can pass the big things off for others to handle. Like figuring out a replacement auction item when a socialite diva backs out of our huge annual auction,” he said with a wink.
“God,” I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
Kissing my cheek, he opened the door and stepped out. “I’m assuming Lucian will be your date, and you’ll share your engagement news with everyone at the gala this weekend?”
Before I could respond, the last person I ever wanted around for this conversation spoke.
“Engagement?” Emily asked.
My smile vanished, and my eyes snapped to her wide blue ones.
Oblivious to the tremor of shock vibrating between us, my father leaned into the blonde and stage-whispered behind his hand. “Don’t tell anyone just yet, but my daughter and Lucian Daire are engaged,” he said with a proud smile, fully immersing himself in the role of supportive father.
Time stood still, and I held my breath.
Emily’s lips parted, and a wrinkle marred her smooth forehead.
Dread coiled around my chest and squeezed.
“Oh, well…” She blinked, and despite the hurt flashing across her face, pasted on a smile—one much more convincing than any I gave my dad in my office. “I’ll be sure not to tell.”
“Emily…” I said, without a clue what to say.
“I have to deliver these,” she cut in, holding up a stack of folders clutched in her arms. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
I watched her walk away, a chaotic mess of thoughts running amok in my mind.
You don’t owe her an explanation.
If you hadn’t said yes, it could’ve been her.
She hates you for lying about seeing Lucian when she asked in the coffee room last month.
But I hadn’t been lying. Had I?
The knots in my stomach made me believe I had—at least by omission.
No, we hadn’t been together.
No, we weren’t a couple.
Yes, he spanked me and made me come.
Yes, I agreed to be the submissive to his dominant.
Yes and no. Neither answer made her hurt features any easier to see. Neither one dismissed the guilt filling my chest.
“Everything okay?” my dad asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I shook myself back into the moment and focused on ending the conversation with my dad on a good note. “Yeah,” I answered, wishing I could smile as well as Emily did. “All good. I just have to get back to work. Gotta solve the diva issue.”
He huffed a laugh and wished me good luck before heading off.
With my lackluster smile dropped, and my lip firmly held captive by my teeth, I shut the door and collapsed onto my couch.
“Fuck,” I muttered to the empty room. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, stretching my lungs to the max before exhaling. I held my hand to my chest and breathed again, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest—centering myself to just breathing. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But the weight of my hand left me craving more—a heavier hand. A larger one. One that came with a deep voice. One that kept me centered with touches to other parts of my body. Sharp, stinging touches that released the pressures of guilt, doubt, and stress.
“God, I wish Lucian were at the office today,” I whispered, as if saying the words too loudly would force me to acknowledge the depth of my confession—that maybe I didn’t hate having Lucian in my life. That maybe I was starting to like it.
Scrunching my face tight, I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought.
But I couldn’t because, in the same breath, I yearned to check the clock and see how soon I could go home. To him.
I reasoned the desire away with excuses about using him to ease the tension and to get the most out of our agreement, but they didn’t sit right.
The words not lining up with the warm eagerness sliding through my veins when I imagined finding him on the corner of the couch, reading, an ankle resting on his knee, his shirt sleeves rolled up, baring tan, veined arms, backlit by the twinkling city lights of the skyline behind him.
No, the words didn’t line up with the thrilling jolt of excitement when I thought of going home, but if I wanted to get there, I needed to get back to work.
Which meant I didn’t have time to acknowledge the quiet voice whispering concerns that I should be careful with those feelings.
Instead, I continued with my plan to show my father that I could be the CEO this company needed by working my ass off.
That plan, now, happened to have the added benefit of leaving work early.
Nothing at all to do with Lucian.