Chapter 1
Willow
Present Day
“Willow,” I hear my father say my name in a discerning manner. I’d roll my eyes, except I’d be lectured about being thirty-three years old, and a woman like me shouldn’t do childish things like that.
“Father,” I reply, looking up from the numbers on the spreadsheets I’ve been working on ever since my father abruptly appointed me to be an accountant for Industrial Steel.
I knew there’d be no stopping William Ashford II.
While most girls are the apple of daddy’s eye, I’m more of an afterthought. He wanted a son, and he got me instead, a girl who can’t be handed down a family name. Why I continue to stay isn’t as easy as one would think. Then again, when it comes to family, it never is.
“Did you figure it out?” Sometimes I hate being entirely too good at my job.
“I will by the end of the day.” If he’d quit coming in and out of my makeshift office.
Every day since we’ve been on the scene, he’s been in here asking me how things are going.
Well, the truth would be: shitty, sucktastic, and a fucking nightmare.
Words that dear old dad will never hear coming out of my mouth.
“It’s about time. I’m off to the country club,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.
This, this right here is the reason I stay.
I’d much rather move far away from my sleazeball of a father.
Sadly, there’s one person holding me back, and that’s my grandmother.
She’s the warmth to his cold, the love to his disdain, and if it weren’t for her health battles, I’d have dipped out a long time ago.
As it stands, I know it won’t be much longer until she says her final goodbyes, a thought I’m not prepared to face or think about.
“Okay, I still have a couple of hours left here. Give Mom my love.” I’m not particularly close to her, either.
That probably has a lot to do with her penchant for bottles of wine.
The more expensive, the better. I didn’t win the parental lottery.
I won a grandmother who is worth every last dollar in my bank account, though.
My mother’s mother is the epitome of loving, caring, and everything in between.
Her husband, my grandfather, passed away ten years ago, and ever since, she hasn’t been the same.
“She won’t be there.” Of course, Victoria Ashford won’t be there.
It’s later in the day, and I’m sure she’s a bottle or two of wine deep.
The reason she’s this way is because of the man standing in front of me.
He’s always screwed around on my mom, married her, got her pregnant, and then it really ramped up, at least according to the rumors I’d heard quietly whispered around the house.
It wasn’t until I walked in on him with his secretary that I witnessed it with my own eyes.
In our home.
Needless to say, whatever relationship I did have with my father vanished, right along with my innocence, at the age of thirteen.
When he was finished doing, and by doing I mean doing his then flavor of the month, on his desk, I was given a talk, one where he told me to keep my mouth shut, or else I’d be moved into a boarding school far away.
I didn’t realize it was only a threat until I’d graduated high school.
In one of Mom’s many stupors, she admitted a few things.
One of those included that her parents still held the majority of the purse strings, and that included on what to spend on their only grandchild.
I went off to college and earned the degree I’d wanted, working with numbers and learning as much about managing money as well as minoring in business management. My grandfather drilled it into my head the last few years of his life as well as while growing up to never depend on a man.
Things changed when he passed away. Life got harder, grandmother’s health started to decline, and my father got more vindictive.
My mother also became even more of an alcoholic than she already was.
I don’t know why my grandparents didn’t put certain plans in place, you know, like making me the person responsible for their trust. It’s in my parents’ name, and Dad has basically taken it over.
“Well, have a good night, then.” My attempt at shutting this conversation down and getting him out of my office isn’t going as I hoped.
“Oh, I will. Also, brunch this Sunday at the house. Your presence is required.” My stomach sinks to my feet, not only because this is his subtle way of saying he’s meeting someone at the club.
It can’t be his secretary. Mason isn’t his type, unless things have changed.
And that’s enough of those thoughts. I don’t care about anyone’s preference in sexual nature.
What I care about is my father ruining a good person, and Mason is the best on and off the clock.
“What time?” I ask, even though I’m sure he or my mother will call me, but why bother when I can get it directly from the source?
“Eleven o’clock.” I nod in response, and luckily, I’m saved by the ringing of his phone. “See you Sunday.” Dear old Dad is already answering his call, giving me his back, and I’ve never been more thankful.
The only problem is, now I’m riddled with worry, and I need to make a call of my own. I pick up the receiver on my desk and punch the ten-digit phone number with pent-up anger, which is directed at one man.
“Hey, Willow,” the woman on the other end of the line answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Brenda, how’s grandmother doing today?
” I ask the nurse who sits with her during the day and most times at night.
When shit hit the fan and grandmother started forgetting things and who we were, it came out of nowhere.
It also hurt me to the bone when she would call me my mother’s name.
I put on my brave face, made a doctor’s appointments, and when the diagnosis came, well, it took me by surprise.
My mother disappeared deeper into her wine, and that’s when I found out that whole trust situation.
I didn’t have a say when grandmother was put into a memory care facility, and a piece of my heart went right along with her.
“I wish I had better news to give you; she’s finally resting for the first time today.” There goes my idea of visiting her when I’m through with work. On days like these, it’s better for her not get riled up all over again.
“That’s okay. I’ll call tomorrow, and maybe it’ll be better. Worse comes to worst, I can sneak by when she’s sleeping just to have my eyes on her, even for a moment.” Brenda makes a humming noise.
“I think that’s a great idea. If anything changes, you know I’ll call you.
Especially if she wakes up in a good mood.
” We talk about a few things, mainly about grandmother, but I also ask how she’s doing and make a mental note to pick up a few of her favorite snacks and drinks for when I see her next time.
I place the phone back in the cradle after we say our goodbyes.
I’d have loved nothing more than to see the one woman who makes it worthwhile to deal with my father.
Okay, fine, he holds the purse strings. He’s also held it over my head that he could put her in a facility, one that I’d never approve of.
Instead of getting back to work, I slump over. My forehead meets the wood desk, and I close my eyes. Honestly, I’d bang my head against the tabletop if I were any place but here.
“Hey, you okay, Willow?” That voice. His voice. Deep, raspy, and rough around the edges.
“Hey, Jace. Could be better, but I think that’s normal for most days and for most people.”
“No kidding. Looks like you could use a drink.” He nods his head for me to move from away the desk.
“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?” I stand up, straighten my clothes, close down my computer, grab my purse, and walk toward him. Even if he isn’t asking me, one thing is for certain: I’m leaving for the day.
“Yeah, peaches. I’m asking you to have dinner with me.
You game?” I should say no. I should turn the other way.
I should do anything besides this. Except when he places his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the hall, and he drops his voice to a softer level, nearly whispering in my ear, everything disappears.
Including my common sense.