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The yearly conference I planned to attend had a last-minute cancellation for its keynote speaker, and I hoped to be asked, but that wouldn’t happen without this promotion. Putting the top down in my convertible, I tied a scarf around my hair at a red light on the way to the office, determined to broach the subject with them today.
“Good morning, Miss Allison,” our receptionist, Jennifer, said, looking up from her computer to greet me with a smile. I nodded in return, my black heels clicking on the marble as I passed her and walked down the hallway towards my office. I turned on the light and switched on my aromatherapy diffuser, letting the orange and peppermint scents wash over me.
Peppermint.
I turned off the diffuser and groaned, the smell taking me back to last night at the party. I’d never been so pissed and so turned on, and the fact I didn’t get the last word grated on my nerves. Wiggling my mouse, I sat down and waited for my computer to wake up, already ready to get out of the office and head across the street to my other best friend’s bakery, Sweeter Things, and drown myself in lattes and pastries.
“Addison, I see you’ve made your normal late entrance this morning,” my mother said, brushing off non-existent dust from her Channel blazer and crossing her slender arms over her chest.
I didn’t bother looking at my watch. I knew it was barely past eight-thirty, but that didn’t make a damn bit of difference when you were Amber Allison’s daughter.
“Morning, Mom,” I answered, standing up and walking around my desk to kiss her cheek. “Grayson and Stan send their best.” Her eyes brightened at the mention of the older couple, and she swept past me and took a seat, motioning me to sit beside her. I did, holding back a groan as she looked me up and down. “Can I make you an herbal tea or espresso?”
“No, honey, I’m fine. But there is something we need to talk about.”
This was it.
I could feel it, like the grumbling my stomach made earlier when I chose coffee over water. My frustration and nervousness disappeared. She’d tell me I was ready to step in and fill her shoes. I sat up straighter and reached out, clasping her hand.
It was one of those moments I could see everything ahead of me—redecorating the office, updating the marketing strategies, and getting our pictures off those stupid park benches so no one could comment about sitting on my face. Finally—finally feeling complete and filling that damn void.
I’d never have a white-picket fence in a good school district with a husband, a dog, and all the other things people who wanted a happily ever after wished for. But I could take over this company and stuff it so tightly inside there wouldn’t be room for anything else.
“… so you understand my concern?”
Her concern?
Ugh, I’d completely tuned her out.
“Your concern?” I parroted the words back to her and tilted my head, smoothing my blue pencil skirt down.
“Addison. You had to have known this was coming. We can’t entrust the company your father and I built from nothing to you. Your lifestyle is unacceptable, and frankly, I’m sick of pretending.”
What?
There were no words. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water and shook my head, trying to process what she’d said. Was my lifestyle unacceptable? I mean, I knew I partied more than I should, and drank more than I should, and brought home more men than I should, but I made up for it by outselling everyone else in the firm.
I’d been the highest grossing agent for the last five years. The results spoke for themselves, and not to play the nepotism card, but I was their fucking flesh and blood. Who else would be better suited?
“Mom, I don’t understand. I assumed—”
“Exactly, Addie. You assumed,” she said, squeezing my hand. “You need to listen. You’re an amazing agent.”
“Then why—”
“Stop and let me finish.”
She let go of my hand and reached forward, tilting my chin so I met her eyes. I nodded and blew out a breath, puffing my cheeks, determined to focus and listen to every word.
“You have the highest sales, but it’s because you poach the best listings. You are amazing at staging houses, but it’s because you only attend conferences that help you, not the company as a whole. You do the least amount of work and never attend staff meetings. You’re constantly late, constantly hungover, and your extracurricular activities are splashed across the society pages at least once a month.” Mom stood up and motioned to the awards lining the shelf behind my desk. “Could you imagine where you would be if you tried? Think of what you could accomplish.”
I bowed my head, staring at the floor where my foot tapped out an erratic beat with my black Jimmy Choo heels. My palms were clammy, and I clenched my hands, feeling sweat bead on the back of my neck. A vibration pulled me from my mother’s words and I pressed my hand to my phone in my skirt pocket, wondering who was texting so early.
“Baby, listen,” she said, walking back over and pulling me up from the comfy chair. “I love you so much, but you are wasting your life with the parties, drinking, and sleeping around.”
“You’d rather I be barefoot in the kitchen with five kids and a nice guy to take care of me than the highest grossing agent in the entire firm?” I hated that my voice was quivering, and I sniffed, looking at the ceiling to block any tears which dared to fall.
“Don’t throw the fact that I want grandchildren in my face, young lady. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’d rather you think long and hard about your life. About where you are and what you want. If you want this firm, show us you deserve it. Are you proud of how you got those awards? Knowing not a single one of your coworkers would ever say anything to you, because of who you are?”
