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I certainly felt the melding of the two emotions as time passed.
“Your idea holds merit,” Dad grunted, dumping the report back on the desk. “What about The Scarlet Letter? Where are you with that?”
Fuck. I’d hoped we could avoid that vein of questioning for the day. It was only the third time he’d brought it up since Lennon Lloyd had died. The first time was mere days after his funeral. The second was the week before his daughter returned to town.
Today was the latest.
What did I tell him?
Did I ask him if he knew that Dahlia Lloyd was as intelligent as she was beautiful?
Did I ask him if he knew that Dahlia held the spirit of both her parents in the palm of her hand?
Did I ask him if he knew that Dahlia was compelling and fascinating? Educated yet fantastical? Wild and free? Careless yet disciplined?
I sure as hell couldn’t tell him this, mostly because I know it to be fact. Dahlia was a dirty dream come to life, an infuriating daydream personified, an enigma that could never be decoded.
“Struggling,” I answered honestly. “You were certain that she’d want to sell, but I fear you were wrong.”
He rubbed his hand across his beard again. He always did that when he was thinking. He reminded me of an old wizard—Dumbledore or Gandalf. I wondered if he even realized he did it half the time.
“I wasn’t certain.” Dad leaned back as he admitted it. He slotted his fingers through the others as he leaned back and set his hands on his stomach. “I told you I was, but I never was. Lennon created the bar for Melinda. It was something they’d always wanted, and they built it together. I’m not surprised you’re running into issues with Dahlia.”
He had no fucking idea.
“So, why send me after it? Why do you want it? I couldn’t care less.” Annoyance bubbled up. This wasn’t my fucking project, it was his. All this shit was doing was making me want a woman I had no place wanting.
“I want it for personal reasons.”
I stared at him. “Why now? Why when her dad died? Why not before?”
“He would never have sold it.”
“And you think she will?”
“I think she’s more easily influenced.”
I ran my hands through my hair. He was sending me on a wild fucking goose chase. He was assuming shit about a woman he knew nothing about. I’d been there just days ago. Dahlia Lloyd wasn’t that person. She wasn’t the rollover or the pushover or the fucking anything else anyone had her pegged as.
She was annoyingly strong and determined.
“She won’t sell.” That was no opinion.
Dad stared at the wall. He wasn’t close to looking in my direction. He was stone cold still. Not even the fingers curled on his beard moved. “Try harder.”
“You’re wasting my time.”
“She’s a woman.”
“A fierce woman.”
“A woman all the same.”
Anger twisted my stomach. “She’s not defined by her gender.”
Dad turned to look at me. His eyes were soulless, his lips thin, his expression emotionless. “She’s a woman. She can be fierce and mouthy, but that doesn’t make her comparable to you. She’s a Lloyd. You’re a Fox. Get that bar bought, Damien. No matter how.”
I kicked my chair back as I got up. Dad’s expression didn’t change as I snatched up my phone and stormed out of the office. He’d clearly taken my response for frustration.
He could take it whatever fucking way he wanted. I didn’t care.
Stealing The Scarlet Letter from beneath Dahlia’s feet without a solid reason seemed unfair. Why the fuck did my father want that bar so bad? Why did he covet it the way he did? What the fuck had he done to deserve the mini-empire Lennon Lloyd had built?
Why did Dahlia deserve to lose all that just because my father wanted it?
One week ago, I didn’t give a fuck about Dahlia Lloyd. She’d been a pretty woman with a pretty name and an education a pretty penny had bought. She’d been a pretty little easy target whose business had been easy pickings because her father had left. She’d been no more than a young woman with a broken heart, who’d bitten off more than she could chew.
Now, she was…I didn’t want to think about that. She was under my goddamn skin, for a start. Every time I stopped to think, it was her that crossed my mind.
I felt like she was quickly becoming an obsession. With her dark eyes and bright lips, her smart mouth, and her tempting touch. She was everything a man like me could get addicted to quite easily.
Everything a man like me could break.
I knew it, and yet, I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t keep behind the line of business. I had to take it personally every time for my own selfish needs. I was greedy and heartless, pushing her so I could know things.
