Unease swirled in her belly like sour alcohol. She set her spoon down beside her bowl.
“Have you met Cain Farrell yet?” her father demanded.
“Of course,” she said, keeping her tone level. Revealing her disquiet to her parents would be like throwing bloody chum into shark-infested waters. “I interviewed with him.”
“And?” Cherise raised a perfectly arched brow.
Mycah blinked at her mother. “And I got the position of vice president of operations.”
“Being deliberately obtuse doesn’t become you, Mycah,” her mother said, ice dripping from each syllable. “I have one daughter who is wasting the money we’re paying for that exclusive school by focusing on computer games. And when our other daughter—the one who is pushing thirty and is still unmarried and doesn’t even have any prospects—finds herself in front of a single, handsome billionaire, all she cares about is ajobinstead of a potential husband.”
“Do you understand the influence, the power, the business a match between you and Cain Farrell could bring to Hill-Harper Inc.?” her father asked.
Hill-Harper, a holding company that had been founded by Mycah’s maternal great-grandfather, enjoyed a respectable, conservative reputation here in Boston and nationwide. But for someone who only visited the office two or three days a week and was more or less a figurehead, Laurence always sought more. More wealth, more connections, more renown. And he viewed his daughters as tools to achieve his goals. “For a woman who claims critical thinking as one of her best skills, you fail to see the big picture here. The most advantageous picture. Fine, get your foot into the door with thisjob. But that isn’t the endgame. Cain Farrell is.”
Jesus Christ.Briefly closing her eyes, Mycah leaned back in her chair. Silently counted to ten. Fifteen. Stopped at twenty. Ticking off numbers wasn’t going to calm her when dealing with her parents.
Mycah inhaled a breath, held it, then slowly exhaled. “One. I went to Farrell International to interview for a very important position that would benefit my career, not to scope out a husband. Two. Even if I weren’t a professional, it would’ve been pretty difficult to flirt, hit on or climb over the conference room table and sexually harass Cain Farrell as his two half brothers were also in attendance. And three—and perhaps most important—Cain Farrell is engaged to Devon Cole. And has been for months. Which you both very well know.”
Cain’s sudden fairy-tale-esque engagement to the little-known Devon Cole had taken Boston society by storm. Some people had doubted the relationship, giving it mere weeks before Cain broke it off with the pretty but unassuming woman who worked at a local community center. But three months later, they seemed as in love as ever. Even more so.
Making her parents’ assertion that Mycah romantically pursue Cain even more ridiculous.
“That little nobody?” Her mother waved a hand, laughing, the tinkling sound all the more cruel because of its beauty. “Please. He can do better. All he needs are options.”
“So you’ve met the famed Farrell bastards?” her father asked, a smile curling his mouth. A gleam entered his dark eyes, lines fanning out from the corners, and he barely noticed as Beth cleared his bowl. “What was your impression?”
The Farrell bastards.
God, she hated that stupid, disrespectful name. With a passion.
How high society had taken such glee in salivating over news of Barron Farrell’s illegitimate sons. Achilles, a giant of a man with his long hair and tawny skin. Kenan, biracial, tall, with smooth brown skin, a close-cropped beard and a lean but powerful build. They both shared the same distinctive blue-gray eyes of all the Farrell men, though, including their brother, Cain.
“They were fine,” she said flatly, trying to dissuade him from the topic.
“Frankly, I’m surprised he let them sit in,” Laurence continued, not discouraged by her tone at all. He chuckled, and it held an ugly undertone familiar to Mycah. “I know Barron’s will stipulated Cain had to keep those two on at Farrell International for a year, but to include them in business decisions? I can almost see Kenan Rhodes since his family actually runs a company, even though it’s nowhere near the level of Farrell. But that other one?” He shook his head, his grin widening.
“The Feral Farrell?” Cherise chimed in. “All that long hair and that hideous beard? And have you seen how big and...coarse he is? I don’t care if Cain stuffs him in a suit—he’s not fooling anyone. He looks like a thug.”
“Did that one speak in the meeting?” Laurence snickered, leaning back as Beth set down his plate filled with filet mignon, sautéed asparagus and risotto. “Or did he just grunt?”
Her mother’s laughter joined Laurence’s, and it pounded against Mycah like pebbles striking her skin. Anger brewed inside her chest, a raging storm gathering wind and speed. And underneath...currents of shame coiled. These were her parents. She wasn’t responsible for their actions, for their snobbery. But that didn’t stop her from feeling tainted.
Sullied.
You don’t know him.
She wanted to hurl those words at them. To make them understand and see the intelligent man who could be tender yet defensive, sensitive yet guarded. She’d glimpsed those pieces of him even as he actively shut her out. And just from the shreds of information he let slip about his past—only to be surrounded by people like her parents—she didn’t blame him for those rock-solid walls topped by barbed wire.
Hell, she had her own barriers designed to prevent others from getting too close. Because people, starting with her own parents, had taught her that when they did, it was with an agenda.
Yes, she had trust issues.
Scanning her parents’ smirking faces, she didn’t have to wonder why.
Shaking her head, she pushed back her chair and rose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, setting her napkin next to her forgotten bisque.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Laurence frowned. “Dinner isn’t over. And we’re not finished talking to you about this new job.”
