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“Nick.”
“Dad. How are things going over there?”
He gives a low chuckle, as if I’m a child asking about adult things. “Fine, of course. I’m going down to the new building tomorrow. They’ve finished up the outside, and we’re bringing a company in to outfit the offices as needed.”
“Great news. I just wanted to give you an update on the land acquisition in New York—”
“Did you botch it?”
I grit my teeth. Why is this always his assumption? For the last twenty years, all I’ve done is bust my ass for Weaver Industries. I haven’t “botched” anything since I was brand new. Even then, I never made any huge mistakes. I’ve always had my dad’s voice in the back of my head telling me not to fuck it up.
“No. It’s fine. I’m meeting with the lawyers tomorrow to close the sale, and the engineers have the blueprints almost complete.”
“Almost.” Another criticism. He’s giving me no credit for the fact that we’re ahead of schedule.
Dad starts talking about—complaining about, really—the staff he’s been assigned in the UK by a support company. They’re temporary, of course, until we hire our own there, and he’s not pleased with their work. His complaints aren’t anything serious. Stupid things only Dad would notice like they don’t call him sir and they don’t always dress as professionally as he’d like.
I find myself zoning out during the conversation. Thinking about Blair, who has only sent a curt and professional email since we hooked up.
I can’t sit at the desk right now without picturing her on it. Getting Blair off is like a drug. I want to make her come over and over again. I don’t know why this feels different than it has in the past with other women.
Maybe because, due to circumstance, Blair isn’t just a hookup. She was supposed to be… but now, having to see her regularly, it’s hard not to want more of her.
“Are you listening to me?” Dad snaps.
And, just like that, I’m a kid all over again—a teen afraid of getting clocked in the head. Dad and I have never been close, and I had zero interest in being part of Weaver Industries. But when Greg died and Vanessa was in mourning for many months, I was the only one left for him to foist responsibilities on.
Mom was always the one I could talk to. At least she passed when I was experienced enough dealing with the old man to dodge most of his verbal abuse.
“Yeah. I’m listening, but I need to go. I have another meeting with the estate lawyer.”
He snorts loudly. Dad has made it more than clear what he thinks of Blair.Brains and skirts don’t go together.Especially after her obvious attitude during our first meeting, he was less than impressed.
“Well get going, then. Protecting our assets is your priority right now, Nicholas. I don’t think I need to remind you of what might happen if someone decides to take advantage.”
Briefly, a woman’s face flashes through my mind. Twenty years ago. A blonde with a brilliant smile. Wearing a dazzling diamond ring I bought her.
Right before it all went to hell.
“No,” I say through clenched teeth, “you don’t. I’m not seeing anyone, so that’s not something you have to worry about.”
He hums, indicating he’s not totally convinced.
“Just watch yourself around the lawyer. You know women – they’re all gold-diggers. And she knows exactly how much is in our accounts, Nick. Make sure you put her in her place. And keep her there.”
Anger simmers into a tight knot in my stomach. I don’t want him talking about Blair this way, but if I say anything, he’ll suspect that there’s something between us.
He doesn’t need to know just how much. Because now, even though I’ve been telling myself we’re just burning through our mutual attraction, I’ve been realizing just how often I think of her…
“Let’s not make this another Callie situation.”
Abruptly, my heart turns to a heavy stone in my chest. The only time he ever brings Callie up is when he wants to make a point. And he’s managed it. He must have some sixth sense about what’s going on with Blair.
“Got it. I should get going. Let me know if you need anything.”
I hang up without saying goodbye and slip the phone back into my pocket. The vague, dreamy thoughts of Blair are overridden by the past—by the shock of betrayal and hurt I’d felt finding out that Callie was only after the money.
As much as I hate to admit it, Dad’s right. Blair knows about every penny, every bank account, and every investment. She can look at me and put a price on me. And she has a hold on me already.
