Chapter 20
FISHER
By the time I finish Lila’s tour, clear out a few dresser drawers and a rack in the closet for her stuff, it’s past my bedtime.
I take a shower while she unpacks, taking my time so she has space to get settled. When I step out of the shower, I tug on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a pair of Ralph Lauren pajama pants before wandering back to my room to find Lila zipping a now-empty suitcase.
“I can put that under the bed for you so it’s out of the way,” I offer.
“Thanks, Fisher.” She doesn’t look at me. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”
“Of course. You live here now, make yourself at home.”
“Thanks!” Her eyes move over my chest as she grabs a towel and shower caddy then quickly shuffles past me like she can’t get out of my bedroom fast enough. She looks like a caged animal seeking freedom.
I watch her go with a sigh. Sharing a bedroom feels more forced and uncomfortable than I’d like. I want Lila to feel like she belongs here.
Stowing her suitcase away, I peek inside my walk-in closet to find her colorful bohemian wardrobe hung along one side.
Smiling, I step back toward my bed, noting the bottle of perfume and small ceramic elephant resting atop my dresser.
There’s a striped woven blanket tossed on the foot of my all-white bedspread, and a pair of fuzzy slippers resting on the floor on her side of the bed.
Her side of the bed.
Dragging a hand through my damp hair, I slide under the covers on what I told her was my side…when really, I always starfish in the center, pretty much taking up the entire California king. I never invite girls to sleep over here, so this is new to me.
I hear the sound of the water being turned on in the bathroom and try not to think about how Lila’s in there right now, getting undressed…but it’s impossible.
Lately, all my thoughts seem to end up back on Lila.
With the main light still on, I drift into a deep sleep, exhausted from a week of playoff games.
I’m having a blissful dream, my body warm and relaxed with a feminine scent tickling my nose.
Soft skin tangles with mine, silky hair brushes my cheek.
I hum sleepily, burrowing into the silky softness of the woman in my fantasy.
Dream Fisher whispers, “You smell so damn good.” But the dream woman doesn’t say anything back.
That’s okay, I imagine she’d tell me I rocked her world and have the most amazing body she’s ever seen.
I chuckle at my own creativity and pull the dream woman closer, nuzzling my nose into her hair.
I’m so comfortable and content, I could stay here just like this forever…
There’s a knock, like a fist against a wooden surface. I groan because the sound is an unwelcome interruption to my dream. Unless it’s the knock of my headboard against the wall, it doesn’t belong in this fantasy.
Another knock.
“Shut up,” I mumble. “Most amazing body,” I whisper, drifting back to my dream fantasy. I can’t make out the woman’s face, but there’s a lovely cherry blossom tattoo on her arm as she drags a hand down my chest. “That’s better.”
Another blasted knock. This one is louder. Then another.
The dreamlike knocks turn into something angry, and I gasp awake, my eyes flying toward my bedroom door that’s practically rattling on the hinges.
“I’m trying to sleep in here,” I yell toward the door before glancing down to find I’m not alone in my bed. Morning light is barely peeking through the curtains, and the alarm clock on the nightstand alerts me that what felt like ten minutes of sleep was actually eight hours.
Yesterday’s events come crashing back to my sleep-soaked brain, and I realize my arms are wrapped around Lila’s waist…and her hands are pressed against my chest like she’s desperately trying to get away from me. Shit.
I immediately let go and leap out of the bed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Lila blinks the sleep from her eyes, then smirks. “You’re just a very…cuddly sleeper.”
The door rattles again with more knocking.
“What?” I yell. My roommates aren’t usually this annoying. We don’t have to leave for practice for another two hours, so unless our loft is on fire, I’m going to need whichever one of them is at the door to piss right off.
“Archibald Fisher, it’s nine in the morning. Get up.”
The deep voice has my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.
“That’s my father,” I whisper-yell to Lila. What the hell is he doing here?
Her eyes widen as she slips out of bed. She smooths her hair down with her hands and my gaze snags on her cherry blossom tattoo.
It was Lila…I was dreaming of Lila.
Dragging a hand down my face, I stride to answer the door. Lila grabs a sweatshirt from her duffel bag and pulls it on over her head.
“Fisher! You’re in your underwear,” her words are hushed, but the panic there is clear.
“I tend to get hot in my sleep and kick my pants off.” I smirk at how horrified she looks. “How’s my hair though?”
She taps her bare foot on the floor, crossing her arms. “Honestly? Horrible.”
I lick my hand and press it to my hair. “How about now?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Archibald, I don’t have all day.” My father’s steely tone is scarier than any raised voice I’ve ever heard. He knocks on the door once more for good measure. The man is damn impatient for somebody who’s shown up out of the blue.
I swing the door open to find both my mother and father standing there, dressed to the nines. My father is in one of his custom Italian business suits, and my mother is wearing red-bottomed stilettos, a designer dress, and an unamused frown.
“Well, good morning,” I greet them. “Beautiful day to show up unannounced at your youngest son’s bedroom door, isn’t it? But now that you’re here, Father, Mother…I’d like you to meet—”
“Is everything a joke to you?” Father tilts his chin to the side until his jaw cracks. “You have some explaining to do, Archibald.”
With hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have let all his calls go to voicemail. He’s clearly even more upset about my wedding than I thought if he took the time off work to fly out here and confront me in person.
My mother purses her lips. She might be frowning, but there’s too much botox and filler to really tell. “How could you do this to us, Archie? Seeing your wedding photo in the paper broke my heart.” She looks genuinely sad for a moment, and guilt gnaws at my stomach.
“Mother, I—”
“Your wife didn’t even wear a designer gown,” my mother goes on, shaking her head. “I might never be able to show my face in the country club again. Charlotte-Leigh Hawthorne will never let me hear the end of it.”
I blink, my sleepy brain taking a moment to process that she’s not upset about missing my wedding, but because we were photographed in non-designer wedding wear.
Louis Fisher the Fourth waves a hand at his wife, which is what he always does when he wants her to shut up. “Forget all that wedding nonsense right now, Elizabeth. We have much more important things to deal with.” He looks at me with those cold eyes. “Get dressed.”
I stare at him, still waking up. Still trying to process what the hell they’re doing here, if it’s not to talk about my marriage.
“Immediately,” he adds. “You and I have a meeting with my broker…” My father glances down at his Rolex. “In twenty minutes.”
I huff out a disbelieving laugh. “I have practice this morning.” We don’t usually have mandatory practice on game days, but Coach Anderson has upped our practice schedule for the playoffs.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you went behind my back and tried to purchase my property,” Father says, leveling me with a steely gaze that chills me to the bone.
How the hell did he find out so fast?
“I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt.” My father’s voice is hard as he continues, “I wanted to believe you really did try to honor the conditions of your granddad’s will.
That you got married to prove you were done with your immature antics.
” He huffs a humorless laugh. “Then, this morning my broker informed me the firehouse is no longer available. And it didn’t take much digging to find out you were behind that. ”
“Of course that’s why you’re here,” I mutter, the penny finally dropping.
I’m an idiot for even letting a small part of myself hope he was here for any other reason.
For him to be concerned about my well-being, or curious about the woman I married.
Hell, maybe even a little proud that I took the initiative to save a historic building.
Nope.
Me getting married was worth no more of his time than a few voicemail messages…but me potentially messing up his company’s building plans had him jumping on the first flight across the country.
“You have no idea who you’re messing with, Archibald,” Father continues.
“There’s a reason Fisher Group has grown exponentially since I started running things as your granddad’s health declined…
that reason is me. I. Never. Lose. And no amount of your silly games will stand in my way.
” My father always has his distinguished, aristocratic facade perfectly in place, but the mask is slipping…
there’s practically steam coming out of his ears.
“You’re playing silly games, and I’m playing chess.
You’re in checkmate and you don’t even know it. ”
His barely contained rage should make me happy.
This is what I wanted, after all—to stick it to my family, catch them off guard by pulling a move they never saw coming, to beat them at their own game.
But now that it’s actually happening, it feels less like a win and more like a hockey stick to the face that my father really cares more about his real estate portfolio than me.
The man hasn’t said a word to Lila, hasn’t even acknowledged her. She’s standing behind me, and I find myself almost glad I can’t see her face right now. What must she make of this spectacle? It’s painfully obvious that my parents see me as nothing but an inconvenience. Just another problem to fix.
To make things even worse, Penn and Noah appear in the hallway to witness my humiliation, also in their boxers and with bedhead. It appears they just woke up…Penn has a line on his face from where a crease in his pillow indented his skin, and Noah’s eyes are barely open.
“Uh, what’s going on?” Penn asks, noticing my mother staring at him in horror. He folds his hands in front of his crotch for modesty, but knowing my mother, she’s likely more appalled by my roommate’s tattoos than being able to see the outline of his junk.
Lila peeks out from behind me where I’m still standing in the doorway. “Um, I don’t want to be rude…I just need to squeeze past to get ready in the bathroom.” Her voice is quiet and I can tell she feels extremely uncomfortable.
She squeezes past me, tentatively looking at my parents.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher,” she says in a voice so soft I can barely hear it.
Neither of them respond, and she looks away, her gaze landing on my roommates before she slaps a hand over her eyes. “Do you guys always walk around in your underwear?”
Noah sighs heavily. “Ally’s getting ready in the other bathroom. Why don’t you head over there with her?”
She nods her thanks, scooting past everyone with her hand still covering her eyes.
She runs into a wall and finally removes her hand and quickly darts to the other side of the apartment where Noah’s and Ally’s bedrooms and bathroom are.
It would be comical if this whole situation wasn’t so damn depressing.
I watch Lila until she disappears down the opposite hallway.
Every step feels like a weight pressing against my chest. The feet between us feels like a giant chasm, like we’re a world apart.
I bet she’s deeply regretting getting involved with a Fisher.
Until today, she didn’t understand the full capacity of my family’s selfishness. And now she’s married to one.
“Archibald,” my mother whispers, staring after Lila. “She has…a nose ring.” She’s clearly disturbed by the idea.
I promise myself at that moment to schedule myself for a full sleeve of ink—maybe two. Mommy Dearest has no idea I’m standing here feeling ashamed of her and my father…not Lila.
Crossing my arms, I stare at her. “Oh, so now we’re finally acknowledging my wife?”
My father rolls his eyes. “Your shotgun wedding is the least of our concerns; that’s nothing a quickie annulment can’t handle.” He sighs, calmer now that he thinks he’s controlling the situation. “We’ll address that right after we speak to the broker.”
I drag a hand over my face and groan. My head is pounding, and I need to get myself together before practice. Tonight’s the biggest game of my career. “I don’t have time for this today.”
“If you made time to get married, you can make time to meet with my broker and fix the mess you’ve made.” My father rolls his shoulders, a picture of confidence.
“No.”
His brows fly up. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said no. Fisher Group got outbid. Deal with it. I’m not working anything out with the broker.
There are plenty of other properties in the Bay area you could purchase instead.
” I pause, taking in the angry vein popping out of my father’s forehead.
He’s eerily silent, but that’s not a good sign.
This is the deadly kind of silence that comes with consequences.
But I don’t give a shit anymore—I’m done with Father’s manipulation.
After a few endless moments, my father’s nostrils flare, but he keeps his composure.
“I’ll push the meeting back by an hour. That will give us time to sit down and talk until you see some sense.
” There’s a note of finality to his voice that tells me there’s no arguing with this.
“Now go put some clothes on…all of you.” He casts a withering look in Penn and Noah’s direction, and he doesn’t have to tell them twice.
Penn slaps me on the shoulder before he and Noah get the hell out of there.