Chapter Three
Seraphine
“I’m telling you; he hates me.” I spear my hands through my hair, ducking my head and leaning forward on my elbows.
“How can a father hate their daughter?” Justine asks, chewing on something crunchy. I look up at her sitting across from me at the large round table and shake my head.
“Very easily, apparently.”
Groaning, I push my food away and lean back in the chair.
Being at work is my only saving grace these days.
This first week with my father has been hell.
Absolute hell. Actually, I think being in hell would be better than this.
I’m all too quickly remembering why I couldn’t wait to get out of there, why I was so desperate to get rid of him.
Thinking that way makes me feel like a terrible daughter, but how can I be a good daughter when my father is downright awful?
I’m living in a house where I’m waiting for a grenade to go off, and its anxiety-inducing in a way I can’t begin to describe.
My nails are chewed down to the beds, my lips are dry, and I swear I have a bald spot from tugging on my hair so much. I’m one step from a nervous breakdown.
“If I had the room, I’d let you stay with me, but Zach’s brother is already on the couch.”
“You think he’ll share?” I raise a brow, only half joking.
She cracks a smile. “I could ask.”
“It’s terrible I’m considering that. Sharing the couch with a stranger is more appealing than my father. That’s insane.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.” She frowns, not at all making me feel better.
Justine has worked at the spa about six months longer than me.
She’s a couple years older, and we get along well.
We aren’t exactly friends, as we’ve only hung out outside of work a few times to grab dinner or lunch, but we chat easily while on shift together.
I’m comfortable enough with her to tell her what happened now that I’m not, but not enough to call and vent when it happened.
The only person who was worthy of phone call time was Gia, but I ruined that over a year ago.
I can’t fully blame my life going to shit on getting with Harrison.
Yes, it’s kind of where it started; it all went downhill from that point, just in a different way than when I was with my father.
I was so desperate to get out of that house that I didn’t see what I was getting myself into.
Still, I should have been a better friend, and I swear I’m going to call her and tell her that.
I won’t be mad if she doesn’t forgive me, hangs up on me, or cusses me out.
I messed up, and I’ll own it. But I would love it if she’d at least hear me out, let me get this off my chest.
The phone rings out front, and Justine and I look that way.
Though we have the sign on the front door that we’re on lunch, the phone is still on. A glance at the clock shows we should have been back to work five minutes ago, but neither of us have a client until 1:30, so we weren’t in any rush.
“I should get that,” Justine says in a tone that tells me she doesn’t want to get it at all. “It’s probably Clara making sure we aren’t stealing.”
I roll my eyes. Why does everyone in my life suck? My father doesn’t want me around. In fact, he can’t stand me. He’d be completely fine with me sleeping on the street and freezing to death. Honestly, I’m not sure why he agreed to let me stay with him at all. Misery loves company, I suppose.
My boss doesn’t trust me. Though, to be fair, she doesn’t trust anyone. But I feel if she doesn’t trust us, she should be here instead of barking orders at us from whatever country she’s visiting this week.
Harrison cheated on me, because I guess I’m not a good enough person to be respected. Yep, the people in my life are gold.
“Sera, it’s for you!”
I frown, getting up from the chair. Justine is waiting for me at the front desk, phone held to her chest.
“Who is it?” I whisper.
She shrugs. “Don’t know. They asked for you by name though.”
I take the phone cautiously and bring it to my ear. Justine heads to the break room, probably to clean our mess so we can get our massage tables ready for our clients.
We work in the massage section of the Sunshine Spa—a local Spa chain owned by Clara St. Pierre, a snobbish woman who looks too much like Cruella de Vil.
From the cartoon, not the live action. Glenn Close is gorgeous.
Clara? She sort of resembles a rat. But she’s got millions, and you know how that goes.
“Hello?” I finally say.
“Seraphine Sinclair?”
I don’t recognize the voice on the other end. It’s a deep timber, smoky with a slight rasp to it. Too old to be any friend of mine or Harrison’s, not that any of his friends would call me, but you never know.
“It’s just Sera, but yes, this is her. Who is this?”
“My name is Elliot Caldwell—”
He continues to speak, but his words are gibberish through the rushing blood in my ears. Elliot Caldwell of Caldwell Enterprises. One of the most powerful and the most richest men in the city. Elliot Caldwell as in the father of Harrison Caldwell. My ex-boyfriend’s father.
There isn’t a single reason I can come up with as to why this man is calling me—and here, at my job, of all places.
The entire two years that I dated Harrison, I never even saw them share a phone call.
No visits. No holidays. No birthday calls.
Harrison mentioned speaking to him a few times, but nothing that I witnessed.
So, for all I know, it could have been another one of his lies.
Yes, I knew who his father was—how could I not? Everyone in the surrounding area knows Elliot Caldwell. But because they didn’t speak on a regular basis and I never met him, I guess I sort of… forgot? Overlooked it? Chose to ignore it in case of a situation like this?
He’s a powerful man in a big city. Not someone you want to mess with, I’m sure. Not in the sense of like the mafia, though with the money he has, I’m sure if he wanted someone to go missing, they would. And fingers would never point back to him.
Oh no, this could be really bad.
“Miss Sinclair?” he says impatiently from the other side of the phone.
“I’m here!” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, there was a, uh, customer. Hold please.”
I put the phone to my chest and take a moment to breathe.
Upsetting this man is a bad idea. What if he is going to kill me for what I saw?
If it got out that his son is sleeping with his daughter, that could be bad.
Stepsiblings or not, I can’t imagine that being good for his company’s name.
It would probably be really bad, actually.
Tie a concrete block to my foot and toss my unconscious body into the bay kind of bad.
Why didn’t I think of this until now? Why hadn’t I thought of the consequences of my actions?
Threatening Harrison when I walked out of his condo was a terrible mistake, but not something I would actually do.
My words were said in the heat of the moment.
I didn’t even remember if I’d said anything threatening to him until this very moment, now that my life is flashing before my eyes.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My gaze darts to Justine, who looks terrified on my behalf, and I shake my head, then bring the phone back to my ear.
“I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Caldwell.” I ignore the way Justine’s eyes go wide as saucers and force my voice to stop freaking trembling! Though it doesn’t really work. “What can I do for you?”
“I said I spoke with Mrs. St. Pierre, and she approved for you to make a house call for me during your shift tomorrow.”
“House call?” I squeak out. “For like… a private massage?”
“Yes, Miss Sinclair. A house call. For a private massage.”
“To your house?”
“Are you ill?” he asks in a near growl.
I slap my hand on my forehead. “No, sorry. Just, um… okay. Yes. I can do that.” I nod, forcing the words out of my mouth. “I can totally do this. Just send me the address and I will be there.”
“It’s already been emailed to the company address. Please do not be late.”
The phone clicks, telling me the call ended. I slowly bring the phone back to the receiver and sink into the chair, my stomach threatening to expel everything I just ate.
“Well, what happened?” Justine urges.
I think my ex-boyfriend’s father is going to have me murdered—that’s what happened.