Chapter Twelve
Rhys
I look at the man up and down. He doesn’t look anything like Max—lacks the warmth and sweetness she has. And apparently a soul. The only thing in his eyes is an undeserved sense of superiority because he has more money than her.
Pathetic.
“What are those spots on your face?” I add while he sizes me up. “Some venereal disease?”
The man stiffens, and I smirk. Nobody disrespects Max in front of me and gets away with it.
She places a hand over her mouth. I cock an eyebrow at her. “It’s all right. You can laugh on company time.”
She bursts out laughing.
“How rude! Your father is completely healthy, especially for his age,” Boobsie Barbie exclaims, her eyes darting between me and Max. Wonder if she’d fly away like a popped balloon if I stuck a needle into one of those overinflated tits.
“Healthy for a guy who’s dipped his dick into every cheap, filthy hole he can find,” Max mutters in disgust. “You weren’t the first aspiring home wrecker to climb into his bed.”
Being called out doesn’t seem to bother him. On the other hand, the woman’s face flames. Sadly, she appears incapable of coming up with a comeback.
“Did God give you a brain to add a few inches to your height? It doesn’t seem to serve any other function,” I say.
This time, Max doesn’t try to hold back her mirth.
The man draws himself up. “Stay out of this, young man,” he says, apparently taking pity on his intellectually challenged sidepiece. “It’s a family matter.”
I turn to Max. “Is this guy part of your family?”
“Nope.”
“I am your father, Maxine!”
“Really?” she says. “Then how come you can’t even get my name right?”
I narrow my eyes at the way he speaks, like she owes him something.
Donating a sperm cell doesn’t mean you’re entitled to a child’s unconditional consideration for life.
“Didn’t you hear? You’re a nobody, while I’m her boss.
And we’ve got a meeting to go to, another billion or two to make.
” I adjust my glasses with a conspicuous middle finger, then make a show of checking my watch. “Let’s go, Max.”
“Sure.” She moves next to me and smiles.
My brain freezes for a moment. I’ve never seen her eyes sparkle like this, like she just got off the best roller-coaster ride of her life.
An inexplicable satisfaction pumps through me.
Unable to stop myself, I put a protective hand to the small of her back, wanting to see that look on her face over and over again.
We head to the car together. I can feel the glares from the old man and his sidepiece stabbing into my back. Amateurs. They could learn a thing or two from my grandmother.
The doorman pulls open the hotel door with a smile and an energetic “Ohayo gozaimasu.” The uniformed chauffeur bows, his black hat and white gloves spotless.
We get in. As soon as the doors close, Max half turns to me. “Thank you,” she says.
“My pleasure.” I wait a beat, but she stays quiet and I deflate a little.
But what did I expect? That she’d explain what happened? It was obviously a family issue—and highly personal. The tension and hostility radiated from her and Boobsie Barbie as they faced off, the man enjoying the conflict, like it made him something special.
I shake off the disappointment. I’m not entitled to an explanation just because I was on Team Max. She’ll share if and when she’s ready. “Lay out the day for me.”
She pulls out her phone and rattles off our agenda.
“By the way, Finn emailed. Said the man he was talking about—he made sure to mention in all caps that it’s Calvin—anyway, this Calvin is only interested in stripping the company, so focusing on our holistic approach will work better.
He sent you a memo with some talking points and a PowerPoint if you need it. ”
“Got it, but I doubt we’ll be doing another presentation. Knowing them, they’ll chat with us, then have lots of informal meetings in hallways and bathrooms and over drinks and come to a consensus.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “That’s just the way a lot of things get done in Japan. They’re very conflict-averse and don’t want to bring up anything that could be confrontational to your face.”
“Then what’s the point of even having meetings?” She sounds outraged. “We didn’t have to come out here if that’s what they’re going to do!”
“They prefer to confirm all the details they’ve already agreed on face to face.”
She shakes her head. “Waste of time.”
“Just a different culture. Easier to work with it, rather than against it. They aren’t going to change just for us.”
She looks down at her screen with the small, thoughtful sound she always makes when she’s digesting info she’s not too fond of.
The car plunges into silence. I study her.
She doesn’t show anything now, hiding behind a polished professional mask as she types messages on her phone.
Strong and resilient. Recalling the crappy way her father treated her makes me want to go back to the lobby and punch him a few times.
How dare he belittle what she’s accomplished, as though the only thing she should be capable of is gratefully receiving whatever her daddy deigns to give her?
He doesn’t deserve a daughter like her. I’m proud of her for not letting that man determine her worth.