"I don't care much for how you spend your days, but it's your nights that worry me. I won't lose you as well."
“You won’t,” I said, playing with a thread in my sleeve. Somehow I need him to realize that the partying, surrounding myself with people—it’s a survival mechanism. It’s not personal.
"I want you to accompany me to Hathaway's new year's ball tonight."
“No, Dad, I can’t—“
“And starting Monday next week, I will make sure you can start an internship at Hathaway’s.”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested,” I ground out. He had the best intentions, of that I had no doubt, despite not knowing how to communicate with me. He’d never been too good at doing that with his children.
“It’s not an offer. It’s an ultimatum. Addie, I’m making the access to your trust fund dependent on this.”
“On this internship?”
“You were to gain access at age twenty-five, but I’m adding a three-month internship at Hathaway’s first as an addendum. I’ve already been in contact with the lawyers. I want you dressed and ready at nine tonight for the event, and then at work at eight o’clock every morning.”
I gave a vain tug at my silk bathrobe. He’d showed up, unannounced, and it was only two in the afternoon. So what if I was still in my PJs? Cheap shot.
“What division?"
I knew better than to get vocal and angry with Dad. It'd never been the way to win an argument with him. Max had known how to make our case, methodically and empirically, but he was gone.
“Executive,” Dad said. “I’m going to ask Grant to supervise your internship.”
I flew up from my seat. “What? Grant? There is absolutely no way I will work in close contact with him.”
Dad sighed. He looked disappointed, but then again, I found it hard to remember him ever wearing any other expression.
"He is the CEO and executive partner of the auction house. I trust him. There is absolutely no one else I would entrust to oversee your internship."
I gave him a small pout and my very best, saddest eyes. “Please, not him.”
Grant. The man had never smiled in his life. I couldn’t handle him being my overseer.
We would tear each other apart.
“You’re only proving my point, Ada. I can’t give you and your antics to just anyone. They’d either kill you or worship at your feet within a week.”
“And you think Grant won’t?”
Dad opened his briefcase, taking out a stack of documents and placing them on my granite countertop. “I know he won’t, try as you may.”
Dad’s trust in Grant was like an owner’s belief in their well-mannered dog. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.
I gave a sudden smile. Maybe I could push Grant far enough for him to snap.
"I want you to read through this before Monday," Dad said. "It's an overview of all of the firm's divisions and background info of the main real estate, art, and artifacts that have been sold in the past year. I suggest you read up on it."
I knew he was waiting for me to say thank you, but for the life of me, I couldn’t force myself to say the words. There was so much I had wanted from him, for so long, but the past few years had made it painfully clear that I’d never get it. So I remained quiet.
Dad coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well then, I suppose I’ll be off. I’ll see you tonight—I’ll be outside in the car at nine. And Ada?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t screw this up. You won’t get any more chances like this.”
The door shut behind him, and my apartment was once again quiet, empty and lonely. I sighed and grabbed the stack of documents—and a bowl of cereal—before nestling down on the couch.
Working with Grant. The man hated me, had never been able to stand that his perfect mentor had somehow produced two less than perfect children. Obsessed with his achievements and numbers.
I smiled, thinking about the many times we'd sparred in the past. It had been a long time since we'd had one of our verbal duels.
These months were likely going to be excruciating, nerve-racking, angering and a hundred percent sure to go wrong.
It might just be the most fun I’d had in years.
ABOUT OLIVIA
Olivia Hayle writes contemporary romances made out of sugar, spice and all things nice—with a pinch of heat, of course!
She’s a happily-ever-after addict who loves her cups of tea large, her men tall and her chocolate dark. When she’s not knee-deep in creating new book boyfriends, you can find her interacting with fans on any of her social media platforms or with her head in a good book.
You can read more about her at www.oliviahayle.com.
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Rogue: A Paradise Shores Novel Page 26