Chapter Six #2
He nods to the portrait of the three of them, hung proudly in the boardroom.
I’ve seen it before. It’s always been there, but until now I never considered what happened to the rarely mentioned partner of the CEO.
“Cordelia, her mother, she was—is a free spirit. A hippie, my father called her. And when she told me, swollen with our child, that she could not stay…even when she told me this, I still loved her. I would say to her, ‘I do not care, my love, should you wander, so long as you return to me, du und unser baby, you and my Lemondrop.’” He exhales, and his eyes darken to a blue-violet, akin to his Lemon’s when she’s deep in thought.
“Mine’s just like her mother, too.” I swig the amber liquid.
It burns my esophagus derisively—the emotional strife of loss far more devastating than any physical pain could ever be.
But the CEO of Perkins Global Records is opening up to me, and I feel an invisible string shorten between us with our shared experience.
“My wife passed when Bryar was young. She’s the only one of my girls who remembers Lauren.
Fitting that she’s the most like her of all of them.
Her smile, attitude…the way her hair fell to the side on its own, always to left—I’m sorry. ”
I shake away the memories, where they must stay if I’m to be of use to anyone. Thinking of her too long puts me in a place where I’ve no business anymore if we’re to move on.
“It is fine, my friend. It is what I needed tonight. We understand one another, Oliver. I like you. There are few a man of my wealth can trust. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think I do.” I shake his hand. “I assure you, there is nothing you can’t trust me with, sir. My family is your family, Mr. Perkins, and I aim to help this company grow alongside you for many years to come.”
“It’s all set, then. Shall we have cigars brought out to celebrate? Alert the nanny you’ll be late, yes?”
The nanny.
“I apologize, Mr. Perkins, but you’ve just reminded me that my nanny…resigned. Again.”
He nods in understanding, and I’ll admit it’s conflicting to connect with a guy as a parent and want to have that same man’s daughter in every position imaginable.
It should drive me away.
To relieve Mrs. Kempling of her failed duties and go home.
But I’ve never had support from someone who knows the struggles I’ve yet to face.
It’s been so long since Lauren was here to share parenting hacks and hiccups.
Maybe that’s why I accept his cigar on the balcony, to share times our girls pulled a fast one, to feel like I’m not so alone in all of this.
But the stories he tells me about Lemon make me grip the edge of my chair, and the possibilities of what Bryar could get into if I don’t intervene take ominous form in my head.
“I’ve got to get a nanny who can handle her immediately,” I admit. “I can’t have her doing stuff like that when she’s finally driving.”
“Or worse!” He whistles. “When she has credit cards.”
My face pales, and I take a deep drag on the cigar, blowing out a controlled breath. “What did you do when Lemon started this behavior?” I’ve considered boarding school, but I hate the idea when my gut tells me she needs me to guide her more than anything right now.
“I’ve been thinking about something, Oliver.
” Mr. Perkins takes a long drag of the cigar before ashing it from the balcony.
“My daughter needs structure, stability, a fast-paced adventure to occupy her impulsivity. And you need someone with stamina to keep up with four girls, and your own delinquent child.”
“Bryar is not a—”
His eyes narrow. “Think about this, Oliver. Lemon will be your nanny. There’s nothing your daughter could do that mine hasn’t tried twice.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“That’s how she will keep them from doing it!
” He passes the cigar, blowing perfect smoke rings into the sky.
“Relax, my friend. They may learn a thing or two. Picking locks, scaling fences, organizing protests on national television…but odds are they will learn how to argue their way out of it if my Lemondrop is involved.”
That is not reassuring.
“She will be just what you need.”
Neither is that.
Mr. Perkins shrugs like it’s done. “Not only would your children have a caretaker, but they are just the wild adventure Lemon needs to keep busy. A challenge of her own shape and form.”
“I agree we could both…benefit, but I’m not sure my daughters need Lemon influencing their decisions. No offense.”
“Bitte,” he whispers, ashing the cigar. “Lemon needs to learn responsibility, and Bryar needs to see what happens if she forever lacks it, see?”
“That doesn’t make it less of a risk. The two of them together sound like a recipe for a house fire.”
Mr. Perkins doesn’t deny it, but his eyes widen in thought. “If you work from the Valley office, just outside of your home in Pine Forest, you will be close enough to check in, will you not?”
“You mean, you would pull me from my next three tours, and—”
“Bump your promotion to the present. That is what I am saying, friend. We are the same, you and I. Remember that. I trust you; you trust me.”
“Trust?”
“You keep my daughter safe in your home, away from tabloids and these relations of hers.” He gestures back to the body shot photo, lingering guilt raining over me as he does. But when he produces a notepad and scribbles a number that makes my eyes pop, guilt is the last thing I feel.
This would make me a millionaire overnight.
“I keep my word, always. This is what I will pay you, Oliver Nashville. Your family will want for nothing ever again. So, what do you say?”
“I can’t accept that salary.” I stumble over my words. “I mean, I would love to, yes, but Mr. Perkins…”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now, you can accept, and you will call me Emil.”
“Uh, yes, well…Emil,” I say as politely as possible, “that’s far too much for an acquisitions rep.”
“No price is too high for a friend you can trust, Oliver.”
He says my name like I’m an equal, and my chest swells with pride. If I agree to this, my girls will have the world at their fingertips…Oxford, even. Every opportunity Lauren wanted for them will be within their reach.
“Think it over.” He stands. “Your whole life could change.”
Iwalk to my car, shut the door, and lean back in my seat, relief a vague simplification of my current state. But it’s done. The meeting is over, and the promotion is mine whether I take the CEO up on his crazy plan or not.
“We did it, Lo,” I whisper, wondering if she’s still around to hear it.
But I feel nothing.
Perhaps that’s for the best when I can’t stop thinking of what Emil said. Not about the promotion or the trust we now share, but the other part.
The part that has all the blood I possess rushing to the head of my cock and pointing home like the damn north star.
“What do you say, Oliver? I make you a rich man, and you take my daughter.”