Chapter 5
five
ROSE
I’ve been in a bad mood since Dare left me on the terrace. All weekend, his words ran through my head, tormenting my every waking moment.
The princess.
The pawn.
The fool.
He has no idea how hard I’ve worked. I have a master’s in finance and international management, and even before I got that shiny piece of paper, declaring me worthy enough to work at JD Miller he’s pissed that jerk showed up. As a board member, he’s always invited to the quarterly meetings, but he usually doesn’t come. I chew on my cheek and look at Dare again. Is he here because I poked the bear? Is he going to cause problems to get back at me?
“Dad?”
He releases a harsh breath and smooths his Brioni suit jacket. “You’re late. We have things to discuss.” Turning, he heads into his office, the red bottoms of his shoes flashing me as he walks. His William Westmancott suit screams success. That’s how you should dress for work. At least Dad gives a shit about what we’re doing here. I can’t say the same for the asshole in the conference room.
I shoot another scathing look in Dare’s direction.
Pawn , he mouths.
Fuck you , I return.
He laughs, but I can’t hear it through the glass walls, and I hate that I want to know what it sounds like. Does the beast laugh like a hyena, or is it a deep, rumbling growl of a sound?
Does it matter?
Pushing him out of my mind, I shut the door behind me and take my seat across from where my dad sits at his grand mahogany desk. The legs are intricately carved, two lion faces at the top of each one, and it probably cost more than the rest of the furniture on this level.
One day, I’ll sit behind it, take the throne. One day, I’ll be in charge, and I can finally help Cassia take down the debt collectors who made her lose everything she’s ever cared about. Her dad had a heart attack from the stress of being forced into bankruptcy after defaulting on multiple loans. Being a widower, he did everything in his power to provide the best life for her, but ultimately, he couldn’t keep up and the collection agencies were ruthless.
The first step to make sure that never happens again is to take down the companies making bad loans.
Speaking of . . .
Dad is frowning at his phone.
“Frank’s Bakery.”
“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asks, not bothering to look at me.
“It means something to Darian. I confirmed it myself. Royal Bank owns the business loan. We could buy the loan and?—”
“Rosalynn, love.” Dad sighs and tosses his phone on the desk, leaning back in his chair and studying me. “Why are we talking about bakeries?”
“Dad, did you hear me? It means something to Darian, and I think, if we can find a way to use it as leverage, we can finally get him off the board.”
He rests his forearms on his desk and peers down his nose at me. “Let me get this straight. You had a PI spend a year looking for a way to get to Darian, and the best thing you came up with is a bakery?”
“It’s something,” I tell him, keeping my cool. Dad has every right to question it, because I’m as disappointed as he is. Dare’s better at burying his skeletons than I thought. “I’m telling you, there’s something there. He cares about the place.”
“And I like the Mexican restaurant down the street, but I’m not going to give up my board seat if someone threatens to close its doors. Eric’s plan?—”
“Eric’s plan relies on finding Darian’s sisters, but no one has seen them for years. You really think that’s a better option?” A flush crawls up my neck, annoyance trembling in my chest.
Dad frowns at me. “Don’t interrupt me.”
I want to scream that I wouldn’t have to if he’d just listen to me, but there’s no point. Dad cares about three things. JD Miller & Co. Respect. And me, as long as I keep the first two in mind.
Unease swims in my gut, but worse is the anger simmering through my veins. Since when do I get this mad at him? “Sorry.” Though it kills me to say it, I really don’t want to argue with him while the enemy is right outside.
He nods. “It’s okay, Rosalynn. Now, forget this bakery nonsense. There’s something I want you to know before the board meeting starts.”
A knock sounds and he frowns, glancing from me to the door, ultimately deciding whoever is there is more important than what he wanted to say. Standing, he heads to the door but pauses at my side.
“I love you, Rosalynn.” Dad places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Remember, everything I do is for you, even if you don’t agree with me.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I know.”
“Why don’t you go find us some coffee? I love the way you make it.” His hand slips away as I stand.
I’m not his assistant. I don’t need to bother with making him coffee, but I’m so defeated, I take the escape he offers. “Of course.” I follow him to the door, and he pauses before he opens it, his eyes flicking to my left hand, which is smudged gray from where it ran over my sketch. Tucking it out of sight, I lift my chin in defiance.
Dad hates that I draw. Artists never built empires. I’ll forgo a social life for work, but art is one thing I refuse to give up.
“Make sure you wash your hands before the board meeting,” he says. “You look pretty today, Rosie.” There’s no time to respond, because he opens the door to reveal Rafael, one of his favorite board members.
Knowing he feels bad for being harsh, I smile as I slip out of the office so Rafael can enter. “Thanks, Dad. Morning, Rafael.”
“Lovely to see you, Rosalynn.” Rafael grins, and even with the wrinkled, rich brown skin at the edges of his mouth, there’s something youthful about him. Maybe it’s the light in his eyes—shimmering in a way that says he knows how to enjoy life—or maybe it’s the navy blue designer suit and the artful way his long brown hair is swept to the side.
Dad shuts the door, keeping me out of whatever conversation they’re about to have.
I take a calming breath, smoothing my palms over my top as my gaze catches on Dare, who is staring straight at me, one eyebrow quirked.
Scowling at him, I stride into the conference room. “What?”
“Good morning to you too, princess.”
He’s so annoying.
“I’m not a princess,” I practically snarl and storm out before I do something irrational, like throw his water in his face.
Dare’s laugh chases after me, as if he can hear my violent thoughts and finds them amusing.
Maybe he’d stop laughing if I hit him in the nuts.