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Followed by the bottle of scotch smashing against the concrete wall.
Thirty
Lex Edwards
“C’mon, Edwards. At least think about it.”
This goddamn idiot is getting on my last nerve. The last time Zuckerman tried to close a deal, it fell through, losing millions. I’ve been one step ahead of him, and frankly, I want him out.
“I’m not repeating myself. What you’re proposing isn’t viable.”
Zuckerman shakes his head in disbelief, tapping his pen against the table, annoyed I have declined his proposal.
“Let me get this straight? You’re telling me what I’m proposing isn’t viable, yet what Romano proposes is?”
My patience is wearing thin. How dare he question my decision.
“Romano did his homework,” I emphasize, holding my head high. “Your numbers are sloppy. Do I need to remind you of what happened with the Chicago project?”
Zuckerman pinches his lips together, rising from his chair with a clenched jaw. He paces the area near the window, stopping abruptly to face me with an incredulous stare.
“So, Romano fucks your daughter, and he gets what he wants? Is that how it works?”
What did he just say to me?
His callous words begin to register. Did he just say what I think he said? My chest begins to harden. My hands clench into a fist beneath the long boardroom table. I keep my gaze on him fixed, careful not to express anything but a blank stare.
“I think you should leave this room.” I try to keep my tone controlled, refusing to show him any emotion. “The next time you want to question me or bring my family into our business discussions, you can consider yourself done.”
Zuckerman shakes his head, exiting the room while slamming the door. Alone, in the boardroom, his words repeat in my head, “Romano fucks your daughter, and he gets what he wants?”
It can’t be true. A preposterous accusation from a man pissed off because he didn’t get what he wanted. To think he could come up with such an elaborate notion as if anything could happen between Will and Amelia. For starters, there’s an age gap. Amelia dates boys her age.
Will doesn’t believe in relationships, admitting to me multiple times his distaste for settling down. They would never lie to me. I trust them both.
But then Zuckerman’s vengeful remark plays again, “Romano fucks your daughter.”
The dickhead doesn’t know what he’s saying, and on further thought, the guy is done. If he wants to accuse Will of touching my daughter, he can kiss his high-paying role goodbye.
Unsettled by our heated exchange, I leave my office with a meeting two blocks over at Will’s building. I decide to walk to try to clear my head. I’ve had my fair s
hare of dealings with assholes, but Zuckerman is high up there for his unwarranted behavior.
Standing on the sidewalk, waiting to cross, I run my hand through my hair, willing this overwhelming feeling to rid itself. Things of late had been stressful. I’m barking orders more than I care to admit and wasting time on idiots like Zuckerman.
Amelia’s academic coordinator’s call created more stress for Charlotte and me, given that it blindsided us. According to Amelia, everything was fine. I understand she fell ill with the flu, but her coordinator is convinced Amelia is no longer focused as she was at the beginning of the school year. Given her usually straight A’s, I don’t understand how this happened.
Charlotte insists we give Amelia a week to open up to us about her struggles rather than confront her. Considering that Amelia has barely spoken to Charlotte and seemingly avoids her calls, there appears to be a more significant issue at hand. My patience with this matter is wearing thin as each day passes. I need a goddamn holiday, preferably with Charlotte minus the cockblockers otherwise known as our daughters.
Stepping into the building, I nod my head at a few people who walk by. I enter the elevator, willing my shoulders to relax before I reach the twentieth floor. My phone pings repeatedly in my pocket, but I ignore it, granting myself a moment of solitude.
The second the doors open, Will and Amelia are standing in front of me. The two of them appear to be arguing. Will is running his hands through his hair, frustrated with their argument as Amelia is breathing heavily.
But then they turn to face me—eyes wide in shock.
My eyes dart back and forth, listening to Amelia spin some story about losing her wallet. The more she rambles, the shakier her voice becomes. I flick my gaze to Will, noticing his body language stiffening before he excuses himself to leave us behind.
Why the fuck is she in the city with friends when she should be at Yale studying?
