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“I feel like that’s up to Sable.”
Duncan leaned forward to rest the cigar in the special ashtray and then steepled his hands in front of his chest.
“You seem like a decent guy, Jethro, and I’m glad you’ve showed my daughter a good time. But there’s no way she’s marrying you. For one simple reason.”
“And that is?”
Sable’s father sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossed an ankle over his knee.
“My daughter is a spoiled little rich girl. She’s grown up with money, gone to the best schools, worn the finest clothes, driven the best cars. She understands the finances of building multi-million dollar projects, but she’s never even had to balance her own checkbook. The bottom line is that you can’t afford Sable.”
Jethro opened his mouth to tell Duncan what he thought about that, but snapped it shut when the man waved a dismissive hand at him and then picked up his cigar once more.
“And if you had some delusions of grandeur about getting your hands on Sable’s money, she doesn’t have any. Her salary of course, although if she marries you against our wishes, I’ll find some excuse to fire her, so there won’t even be that. Honestly, her subpar performance this week will make it a fairly straightforward matter.”
Subpar performance? Jethro nearly cracked his molars he was clamping down his jaw so hard. Sable had put in at least forty hours of work this week and that was with him clawing back every moment he could. During a busy holiday week when she had volunteered or social obligations every evening, never mind that she was recovering from the physical and emotional trauma from the attack.
Someone here was definitely subpar and it sure as fuck wasn’t Sable.
“Plus she doesn’t come into her trust until she’s thirty—and there’s plenty of time for Deirdre and I to revoke that.”
Christ these people were monsters.
“I’d think you’d want to keep Sable working for you given how good she is at her job. I wouldn’t think you’d want her setting up her own shop and competing with you.”
Duncan breathed out a cloud of smoke and pounded on his chest as he laughed again.
“I’ll give you some credit for thinking of that. You’re not as dumb as you look, Del Bosque,” he said, pointing at Jethro with his goddamn cigar that Jethro wanted to grind into the no doubt very expensive carpeting. “But Sable signed an airtight non-compete as part of her contract when I hired her. Which was, frankly, quite stupid. You see, my daughter’s very book smart, a whiz with business, but when it comes to relationships and common sense, she’s not very bright. Which has been fine because her mother and I look after her.”
They had done nothing of the sort. How could he say that after they’d barely asked about her shoulder? When it seemed as if they’d made Sable feel like their so-called love was conditional upon her being perfect in every way? What the fuck did the Hollingsfords know about caring for someone?
“But should she choose to flout our wishes and marry you, she’ll have no job, no inheritance, no apartment and no car since the titles are in our name. Not to mention that any business relationship we’ve had with your farmstand will be over, and I won’t hesitate to encourage our friends and colleagues to cut ties with you as well. You’ll find I have absolutely no conscience about these things.”
