Daughter Dearest

by Nikki Bopp

  “Black coffee? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

  I simply shrug in reply, not knowing what to say. I hate coffee, and I've never even tried it black, but today is a day for everything. Maybe it will be like someone taking their first shot of whiskey. It smells good, and everyone loves it. So they take a huge gulp that burns its way down into their gut, making them regret ever thinking it was a good idea.

  I'll probably regret getting my coffee black, but I need a shot of whiskey right now, and that's just not a possibility if I want to go back to work with my senses intact.

  “I'll take the same thing,” Mia tells the waitress, waiting until she walks away to lean in with a serious look. “What the hell is going on with you?”

  “I don't know honestly.” Curling my fingers around the sugar canister, I roll the container between my hands and try to think of where to start. “I like them.”

  “Well, that's obvious,” Mia rolls her eyes, sitting back in her seat when the waitress returns with two coffee cups and a filled carafe.

  “It is?”

  “Duh, anyone can see it. The three of them hang off your every word and let's not mention how they hired you on the spot. After insulting the most volatile man, I've ever met. And that's saying something.”

  “I think Edward...Mr. Maccini,” I correct myself with a blush, ignoring her raised brow. “I think Mr. Maccini spent the weekend with Breezy.” The spoon Mia is using to stir her coffee pauses, her jaw-dropping in shock.

  “Noooo!”

  “He was late for the Monday manager meeting,” digging in my purse for my phone, I pull up Breezy’s one-worded text, turning the screen so Mia can see it. “She sent this Saturday night.”

  “I can’t see him going for someone...like her.” Mia’s words are hesitant, knowing how I feel about them speaking badly about each other. They may not be the best of friends, but they agreed a long time ago not to bring me into their petty squabbles.

  “I don't know.”

  “It seemed like he was into you, though. Patrick and Daniel too.”

  “Is it weird? For me to like all three of them?”

  Mia looks down into her coffee with a look of concentration, “No, I don't think so. You like who you like. If anyone deserves three handsome and successful men, it's you.”

  Her words are so unexpected, but coming from Mia, that's a good thing. Mia is a very predictable person, so when she decides to throw you for a loop, it means that she's thought about it and approved.

  “Thanks.” The rest of our talk is cut off by the waitress returning with our food, which is by far the fastest that I’ve ever gotten food at a restaurant. I'm going to chalk it up to them not being busy.

  It's only when I'm scraping my plate clean that I find the words that I desperately need the answer too.

  “What should I do?”

  “I don't know,” wiping her mouth with the paper napkin, Mia takes a long sip of her coffee. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to yell at them to man up and just tell me what is what.”

  “So, do it then.

  Scoffing in disbelief, I roll my eyes dramatically. “Yeah, I'm sure Daniel Price would appreciate my yelling at him. Patrick would probably try and give me a hug and Edward...I don't know what Edward would do. I just...I don't know what to do with myself or these feelings that they seem to be causing. I haven't been in the dating game in forever, let alone with three men.”

  Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a theatrical groan loud enough to make Mia shush me under her breath. “Lets not even mention the fact that Nicholas asked me out on a date. In front of the three of them.”

  “Nicholas Grant?” Mia asks, her voice suddenly tight, and when I raise my head, she gives me a dark glare.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You need to stay away from him.”

  “Why?”

  “Just...just do as I say, Jennifer. He’s bad news, and you do not want to get caught up in that.”

  “You can't just say something like that and not explain it.”

  “Fine,” when she leans forward over the table, I mimic her, turning my head so that I can better hear her whispered words. “I've heard rumors that he’s pushed himself on women, but before they can file a complaint, they are conveniently fired, or they just don't come back to work. And...there's just something about him that I don't trust, something that I can't quite put my finger on about him.”

  “Wow,” leaning back in my seat, I try to imagine Nicholas doing something like that. While he's always been overly kind to me, I haven't gotten the impression of him being pushy or inappropriate with me, but it does make me question if going on a date with him is a good idea.

  “I don't want anything to happen to you, Jenny. So...just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “And as for the three sexy bosses, maybe give them a chance? After you chew their asses for being jerks, though.”

  Chapter 15

  Gifts a Plenty

  Arriving back to the office after lunch, I feel a renewed sense of determination. I'm not going to let myself be brushed aside because a couple of men don't know how to share their thoughts and feelings.

  Mia waves goodbye when we stop at her floor, my heart feeling so full that I have such a fantastic friend. The bubble of happiness pops the second I step onto the executive level, my phone ringing so loudly that I drop my purse to the floor. Everything in my bag scatters across the floor.

  “Damnit,” I mutter, lowering myself to my knees so I can answer the phone vibrating across the floor.

  “Hello?” Corralling all the knickknacks and odd bits that seem to find themselves into every purse, it takes me a moment to notice that no one responded to my greeting. “Hello?” My voice is thick with annoyance, but the only noise on the other line is static before the line goes dead entirely.

  “Goodbye to you too, asshole,” shaking my head at the rudeness of people, I scoop everything back into my purse, wincing at the sight of everything sitting in a mass. I'll have to sit down and organize it all later, I decide.

  “Jennifer?” Ingrid nearly trips on me when she comes barreling out of the elevator like a woman on a mission. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I dropped my purse while trying to answer my phone.” My words make Ingrid snort in disgust, her face filled with sympathy.

  “I hate when that happens. Nothing is where it's supposed to be.”

  “That's exactly what I was just thinking,” taking her offered hand, I'm able to regain my feet without breaking an ankle or ending up face-first on the marble tile. “Thanks.”

  “Of course!” Giving her another wave of gratitude, I hurry to my desk as loudly as possible. If there was ever a question about where I was, there's no doubt that I'm back now. None of the office doors open with my arrival, and as much as I want to bust through them, I'm not that stupid. They could be dealing with a crisis or something truly important.

  The high I've been experiencing, the determination to get to the bottom of things slowly begins to fade away until I'm slouched at my desk in a sullen mood.

  “Come on, Jenny,” I murmur to myself, metaphorically slapping myself to get into gear. I may be pissy with the trio, but it doesn't mean that I don't have work to do. Booting up my computer, I straighten up the rest of the desktop while I wait for the computer to start. There are multiple manila envelopes, interoffice communications, and several stacks of papers that people decided to just toss onto the top. It's only when I have them stacked nicely off to the side to deal with later, that I notice a familiar black box that was previously hidden beneath the piles.

  This box is a lot smaller than the first, only about the size of my hand, and when I give it a little shake, it gives a heavy jostle. Even though I know he isn't around; I can't help but look around for Nicholas as though he's going to jump out of a potted plant with an “Aha!”

  Setting the gift back down, I
pull out my phone and snap a picture of the box, sending it to Mia with a smiley face. She doesn't respond, but I'm not surprised. She said that she had a mountain of work during lunch, so I'm sure she’s focusing on that.

  I almost wish I had Nicholas’ phone number now so I could send him a picture.

  Trying and failing to contain my excitement, I remove the lid to the box and gasp in shock at what I find inside. The signature Tom Ford Rose Prick perfume is nestled in a bed of black satin, the pink color to the glass catching the light in the most beautiful way. For an average person, it probably wouldn't be a big deal to be given perfume, but I know for sure that this palm-sized bottle sells for around five-hundred dollars, and there are not many people who are willing to drop such a large amount of money on something so ‘silly’ as Jonathan liked to put it.

  The man who demanded absolute perfection, and the best of everything, laughed in my face when I asked him for a bottle for my birthday. It was the most confusing moment I think I ever experienced with him. Eva had to wash her hair with Gucci shampoo, but Lord forbid, I smell nice. The day we moved to Seattle, I went and bought the biggest bottle I could find, just to spite him. Sure, it was a waste of money, but it felt damn good to buy the one thing I've been dying for since it came out.

  I've only worn it once to PRI, and that was the day of my interview. Is it a coincidence that Nicholas got the exact perfume, or is he really that attentive? Either way, I can't accept his gift. For one, it's far too much money, and secondly, I don't want to be accused of being bought. I know how gossip can run wild in an office, and I don't want to be the butt of the joke.

  I'll go on this date with him, and I'll return it with as much grace as I can muster.

  “Ms. Ray,” my chaotic thoughts are halted by Daniel Price looming over my desk, a black trench coat hanging from his tall frame, face set in an unreadable mask. Opening my desk drawer, I tuck the box of perfume into my purse before turning my attention to PRI’s CEO.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I'm sorry, did I interrupt you?” His words are confusing, obviously, I’m not, but I shrug it away and give him a bright smile.

  “Not at all, how can I help you, sir?”

  Daniel’s mouth twitches at my words, “Ed and I are meeting Patrick for lunch, can you cancel my meetings this afternoon?” His words sound like a question, but I know that it certainly isn't. If there is a man that can make a demand and mean it, it's undoubtedly Daniel Price.

  “Absolutely, Mr. Price,” jotting it down on a notepad, my eye catches sight of the sticky note on the edge of my computer screen. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that you missed a call.” He simply raises a brow at my words.

  “She didn't say what her name was, but to tell you that she’ll call you later,” tapping my mouth with the pen in my hand, I continue in a thoughtful voice. “I don't know where or how, but her voice is so familiar.”

  “She's of no consequence. If she calls back, tell her I’m out of the office indefinitely and not to call back.” With his instructions spoken, Daniel spins on his heel, the end of his coat flaring behind him. Shrugging at the moody man, I get to work going over his schedule, sending out the appropriate rescheduling requests. Thankfully he didn't have a lot scheduled to begin with, so it's just as I'm rescheduling the last one that Edward appears at my desk seemingly out of nowhere.

  “One moment Mr. Maccini,” my eyes flicker in his direction, taking in the outfit that is so unlike the man I’ve come to expect as not even owning a pair of tennis shoes. Hitting send on my email, I turn my attention towards the man entirely, forcing a fake smile in place. Even though I try, I can't help but take in the unkempt hair, a beard in desperate need of shaving and the heavy bags of exhaustion underneath his eyes.

  Must have been a wild weekend, Breezy. My anger for my own friends stops me short. She may not be the best of friends, but she's been there for as long as I can remember, and I can't fault her for sinking her claws into Edward. He's a catch, and anyone would be lucky to have him.

  I just wish it was me.

  “How can I help you?” I force out through a tightened throat, my emotions tumultuous at best.

  “I wanted to talk to you. About this weekend.”

  Well, that was the last thing that I expected to come out of his mouth, and while it’s a relief, the last thing I want to talk about is the wild night rolling in the sheets with my friend. I thought we had really connected Friday night at the bar. Maybe I read it wrong, or perhaps he's just that much of a whore.

  “I don't understand,” scrunching my eyebrows together, I paste as confused expression as I can muster on my face. “What about this weekend?”

  “With your friend.”

  His words are like a blow to the chest, all the air from the world being ripped from my lungs until I’m floundering for something to grasp. Somehow, someway, I am able to suck in a lungful of air, my ribs expanding with the intake and bringing me some semblance of calm in my currently fucked up world.

  Dropping my eyes, I shift my eyes back to my computer screen and pull up a transcription I’ve been working on while wishing the man would just disappear entirely. Maybe fall down an elevator shaft. “Mr. Maccini, you don't need to tell me your personal business. You're both adults.”

  “Jenny,” leaning forward and placing his hands on my desk, Edward lowers his voice to a near whisper. “Will you please look at me and let me explain?”

  “I don't know what there is to explain, Edward.”

  “Goddamnit, Jennifer!” Edward booms slamming his fist onto the desk and making me jump nearly a mile in the air. “I'm trying to tell you that I didn’t sleep with her if you would just fucking listen for a moment!”

  The words, even when yelled, are crystal clear going in one ear, but in the process of going out, the other seems to get lost in the terror rising through me. Between the gritted teeth, burning eyes, and fist on my desk, all I can see is Jonathan and the beatings I had to endure. The bruises and cuts weren’t the worst of it, no, any survivor will tell you it's the psychological effect that the person causes in you.

  It's the adrenaline rush as your fight or flight instinct kicks in. It's the way your heart begins to beat so hard you feel like it's going to jump from your chest, the sweat that beads on your brow. It's the determination that you would put yourself in front of your own child to spare them the pain and horror of feeling such a betrayal.

  This time though, Eva isn't here, and this isn't Jonathan.

  Commanding my spine straight, I raise my head and look Edward directly in the eyes, ignoring the tears that I can feel sliding down my cheeks. “Do not raise your voice at me, Edward Maccini. I’m not some girl that you can push around at your will, and if you think for one moment that I will sit here and take your abuse,” I spit the word at him, venom dripping from my words and causing him to flinch back. “You are sorely mistaken. I do not care where you put your dick, but perhaps you shouldn’t lead someone on before sticking it in her best friend.”

  Almost as though I’m staring at myself from above, I watch surprised as hell when I shove away from the desk with so much force, it’s surprising that the entire desk doesn't collapse beneath me. Reaching into my desk drawer, I yank my purse out and turn my glare back to the CFO standing in front of me with a dumbfounded expression.

  “I am feeling ill,” I spit out, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand, ignoring the black smear of mascara on the skin. “I think I need to go home. I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Maccini.”

  Before he can say anything further, I round the desk and stomp my way to the elevator in the most dignified way a woman possibly can in heels without breaking your neck. Pressing the call button, my toe taps out a rhythm on the marble floor as my words finally start to sink in. It's too late to try and take them back, not to mention, I don't want to take them back. It's all true. I don't want to hear about whatever happened with Breezy, even if he says nothing happened. I could have probably kept my cool until
he raised his voice and hit the desk. That was a done deal, and nothing could have stopped my reaction.

  At least I don't think so, and I don't think I want to.

  I left a man because of the shit he put me through. The pain, tears, and heartache were torture enough. I didn't leave him, just to jump in bed with someone exactly like him. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  I won't allow myself to be disrespected by any man, millionaire or not. If I end up getting fired for it, then so be it. I'll happily take the issue up with HR if it becomes one.

  The ding of the elevator brings me back to present, the haze sitting over my mind dissipating with it. Pressing the button for the ground floor, I hike my purse up higher on my shoulder before noticing the added weight. My shoulder does a little jiggle, somehow expecting that I’ll be able to figure it out without looking.

  The perfume, my memory helpfully provides the answer, as well as the answer to what I need to do before leaving.

  Letting out a sigh, I stop the elevator at Mia’s floor, and when she looks up from her desk with a confused expression, I give her the best smile I can.

  “What happened?” Mia’s eyes take in the black mascara that I forgot is smeared all over my face, but rather than question it, she ducks below her desk and produces a small silver compact. She waits until I'm cleaned up to gather me into a hug.

  “I'm okay,” I mutter, feeling kind of stupid for my overreaction, but also completely justified. “I just...I'm going home.

  “Alright,” Mia pulls away, her hands gripping my arms and holding me at shoulder length to look me over. “How about you and Eva come over for dinner tonight?”

  “What about Sierra?” I haven't seen the woman in probably a decade, so it's not a deal-breaker if she's not there.

  “She has to work late.” Waving away my concern, Mia pulls me back into another hug, only letting me go when I agree to join them for dinner tonight.

  “Oh,” I stop remembering why I'm here. “Do you know where Nicholas’ office is?”