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PartOne
Five Years Ago
Chapter1
Kennedy
“Again.” My father nodded. He should have been a ballet instructor. His voice was terse and the way he tapped the table it was if he was rapping a walking cane on the barre. Whack. Tap. Whack. Tap. It was an analogy he would have hated, no matter how accurate it was.
“We’ve been doing this for hours.” I winced as soon as I realized how whiny the statement was. He didn’t tolerate objections. Especially, not in the form of weakness. I was his daughter, which meant I had to work twice as hard as if I had been his son. I had to prove my worthiness. Demonstrate my critical thinking. Outsmart the other men in the room. Still be beautiful, feminine and graceful. I had to have only wins on the scoreboard. I couldn’t afford to screw up even once. It was never going to be simple to gain his trust.
Tammy, the housekeeper, had just entered my father’s office with a tray for lunch. I was supposed to be grateful for the salad. Yet, another part of the burden no son would have to deal with. I had to fit in the tiniest of cocktail dresses.
“Afraid your tan is fading?” His eyes narrowed. I hated that scowl as much as I hated the contempt in his voice. I didn’t have time to lounge by the pool anymore. All I did was study reports and map out strategy. The latest, of course, was how best to use the tunnels beneath the Vieux Carre to our benefit.
Before I could snap at the insult, he began coughing.
“Dad, are you okay?” I was slow to ask. He hated it whenever I did.
He waved me off. “Fine. Fine. Just need more water.” We both searched for a pitcher and glasses. Tammy had brought food without beverages. He continued to struggle with the cough. He face was turning red.
“I’ll run to the kitchen,” I offered. “I’ll be right back.” I left him doubled over while I raced through the house. Where in the hell was everyone?
Some days were better than others. I didn’t see how his medication helped, although I wasn’t allowed to know what was in the brown pill bottles. The labels had been stripped. The lids were marked with red, yellow, or blue dots. I hadn’t decoded the colors yet. He didn’t share with me what his diagnosis was. I was denied access to his doctor. For now, I was the fledging business protégé. That was all. He didn’t consider that as his daughter I should know what was wrong with him. He kept me in the dark.
I couldn’t believe it when I walked into an empty kitchen. I grumbled. I retrieved a bottle of water from the beverage fridge and sprinted back to his office.
“Here, take this.” I twisted off the cap and shoved it in his hands. “It’s not too cold.” I knew he would find something to disagree about.
My father didn’t say thank you, but he drank. After a few minutes, the coughing subsided.
“Where were we?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. I thought he might be trying to stretch to get more air in his lungs. Why wouldn’t he just tell me what was going on?
“Maybe we should take a break,” I suggested. I stopped short of telling him to go to his room to lie down.
His eyebrows furled again. “Why?”
“Dad—” I started to push him, but his glare was icy. I exhaled. “I think I’m going to take a field trip. I’ll get a lot farther in this process if I’m out of the house for a while. I’m not getting anywhere here.”
“Where are you going?” he barked.
“How am I supposed to develop a plan for something I’ve never actually seen in person? I’ll understand the Vieux Carre’s tunnel system if I see it first-hand. I’m going to the hotel. This will be easier there.”
“I see.” His voice quieted.
“Does that mean you want to go with me?” I stood next to the table. It was scattered with blueprints. There was a short checklist I had made of possible ways to increase revenue through use of the tunnels. I knew I hadn’t covered half of our options.
He shook his head. “You go. I want your report when you get back. Take Kimble with you.”
I sighed. “I always do.” I plastered a fake smile on my face. “And you’ll rest while I’m gone?”
He huffed. I didn’t have the ability to force him to do anything, but if I was the one to break up the meeting, maybe he’d head upstairs for a couple of hours.
“I’ll see you at dinner, then.” I strolled out of his office. He didn’t argue. It was the only indication he was okay with my abrupt interruption. Only, he was too stubborn to admit it.
Kimble parked in front of the hotel. He made me wait until he cleared the lobby before I was allowed inside.
“There’s no one here.” I strolled in behind him. “We haven’t started renovations.” The lobby was dark. It had only been a few weeks since we had won the bank auction. Weeks that the Martins had captured the most valuable piece of real estate in the city. The ripple effect was still being felt.
