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Her question, though, gave me pause.
Whatwasthe point? I’d allowed Calvin to believe for the last five months—no, fiveyears—that I was nothing better than some party girl who traipsed across the world on her family’s money, using my charm and good looks to get me through the doors at the most exclusive clubs, restaurants, and parties in all those old European cities. And, okay, I had used my charm, good looks, and the Delatou money to get in the door. The money just happened to be out of my trust fund, not directly from the company coffers.
But those things weren’t what kept me there.
And they weren’t the things that had those clubs, restaurants, and parties serving CD products to their guests.
No, that had all been accomplished by my brains, not my boobs. But Calvin either didn’t know about my MBA and experience, or liked to conveniently ignore that fact in order to fit me into his narrative.
The truth was, I knew from the moment Calvin had put his brand new job over getting into bed with me—which, okay, wound up being a blessing—that all he cared about was money. And I understood. Money was literally his job. But I could admit that I was still stung by his rejection that night. I didn’t take kindly to being called a “one night stand.” Who was he to say we couldn’t have been more than that? In hindsight, I agreed it was the right call, but in the moment…twenty-three year old me had been crushed. And I’d spent every day of the last five years using that rejection as motivation. I allowed him to think I was a party princess capable of nothing more than using my tits to accomplish my goals.
It made it all the sweeter when I inevitably did everything he didn’t think I could.
Not to mention the sense of satisfaction I got, the little thrill that zipped through me when I accomplished something and, for that brief moment in time, he looked at me as someone impressive. Someone he respected and believed in. Proving Calvin wrong was becoming an addiction for me, and I wasn’t willing to risk not having him look at me like that ever again. It was all sorts of messed up, but what could I say? I’d been twisted into knots since the day I met the man. Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure Iwantedto untangle myself. I was ashamed to admit I craved Cal’s attention, and antagonizing him seemed to be the only way I got it.
I wasn’t sure how to explain that to my mom, though. She hadn’t come up in an age where women weren’t allowed to do bigger and better things than being homemakers. Women in her time had been frequently told by society that they had to make themselves small in order for a man to take an interest in them.
Not that my mother was a homemaker. She had been just as integral to the success of this company under my father’s leadership as he had been. Mom had been responsible for the creation of our fruit wines and perfecting the ice wine recipe. Liam and I were naming our canned sangria after her, a small token of my affection and a nod to everything she’d done for the company. Exactly like me and my sisters, she was more than just a pretty face, and she got off on people underestimating her.
The apple really didn’t fall far from the tree.
“I want him to take my title at face value,” I said, answering her question at last. “I want him to look at me, recognize that I’m his boss, that I’m the one in charge, and accept that fact. I shouldn’t have to explain to him or convince him that I’m a more than capable leader. He is our employee, and he should trust that. At theveryleast,” I added, “he should take Daddy’s decision as gospel. He worked for him for nearly five years, so he should know that Daddy wouldn’t have voted in my favor if he didn’t have the utmost faith in me. He could have easily brought in someone from outside the family, but he didn’t. When Chloe stepped down, he choseme.And I’m fucking tired of Calvin bucking against that decision. Everything around here would be so much simpler if he’d just get over himself. We’d all be a lot happier if we workedtogetherinstead of him constantly working against me.”
I sucked in a deep breath after that little diatribe, surprised to find my mother’s mouth curved into a half-smile.
“You remind me so much of me at your age.”
Those words had a full grin blooming on my face. “How so?” I asked.
I loved hearing about how my parents were at my and my sister’s ages. To me, they were simply Mom and Dad. The wife of a CEO and the CEO. The woman who chose this life for herself and the man who was born into it.
It was hard to remind myself that they’d had lives before my sisters and I were born.
Hell, they’d had lives before each other.
“Did you know I worked here one summer when I was in college?”
I blinked, shocked. I hadn’t known that. “Is that how you met Daddy?”
My mom nodded, a small, wistful smile overtaking her features. Even in her late-fifties, she was beautiful, laugh lines appearing around her eyes only now, her skin still glowing and clear. It gave me hope that I would age well.
“The year was 1986. I’d taken a job up here while I was on summer break from college because my dream had always been to become a sommelier.”
Once again, my eyebrows rose. I always thought my mom loved wine because she was a part of this family, and being married to a Delatou meant you were forced into the life whether you wanted to be or not. I had no idea she’dalwaysbeen a wine lover, and wanted to make a career out of it.
Although, I was proud to report she did eventually become a sommelier. She and Daddy working side by side were a fearsome duo.
“So here I was, this twenty-one year old girl, like a fish out of water. Detroit…it’s not like it is up here, as you know. Life was so much slower here. Instead of feeling like I was being pulled in a thousand different directions, I could slow down, take my time, stop and smell the flowers.”
“Or the grapevines,” I chimed in.
She winked. “Or the grapevines. Anyway, your dad was twenty-five and the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. You think he’s a hottie now? Just imagine him thirty-eight years ago.”
“Gross.” My dad was attractive, yes, but did I think he was a hottie? No, of course not. He was mydad.Although, I’d seen thousands of photos of my parents as kids, teens, and young adults. I was familiar with what they looked like back then, and it wasn’t shocking to me that these two gorgeous humans found their way to each other.
Nor that they’d produced the five of us.
“Anyway,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand, “everything about him was magnetic. He drew every gaze when he walked into a room, mine included. I was working in the tasting room upstairs, hoping every day I’d get a glimpse of him.”
