The Boss's Daughter

by Aubrey Parker

  “And you were by the side of the road. Jesus, Riley. Look, I don’t fault you. You’re still young. You’re impulsive.”

  “Mom was impulsive.”

  “Don’t,” he says. There’s a warning in his eyes, and I fear I may have crossed a line.

  “So that’s it,” I say.

  “It’s not ‘it.’ You just need seasoning. Experience.”

  “And Brandon?”

  “The ability to make good decisions matters more for a project leader. And it matters a lot more for a vice president.”

  “So he’s fired.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But he’s certainly not promoted.”

  He laughs.

  “It’s not fair. He’s the same man he was yesterday. And I’m the same woman.”

  “No, you goddamn well are not!”

  I find myself looking into staring, angry eyes, feeling any retort drying in my throat. He holds my gaze for a long second then looks away, flicking his tablet to a new window. Back to his online newspaper, maybe.

  I know I won’t say more. My fantasy that everything was the same now feels like a childish hope. I feel stupid again, but this time his judgments have teeth. His disappointment didn’t go away. It simply changed forms.

  I pour myself a to-go cup of coffee while Dad sulks over his tablet, making more rattling and clanging than necessary. I cap it, grab a bar as I could have done from my own kitchen, and am halfway to the door when the doorbell rings.

  I answer to find a man I’ve never seen. He has serious dark eyebrows, blue eyes, and a large, ugly scar across one cheek. Somehow, the scar doesn’t ruin his face. He’s incredibly handsome despite it. Maybe even because of it.

  I almost gasp when I realize it’s Brandon. But my father, arriving behind me, doesn’t get it until Brandon speaks.

  He hands something to my father. A piece of paper that looks rather official.

  “With all due respect, sir, thank you for all your company has done for me, but I’ll be moving on.”

  My father moves between me and Brandon. He looks down at the paper in his hand.

  “You’re … you’re quitting?”

  He nods slowly, maybe a little sadly.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s time to stop hiding,” he says, “and start being who I really am.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Brandon

  I’m standing in the doorway, barefaced, when Riley says, “Come in.”

  “Riley,” Mason says.

  “Come in, Brandon,” she repeats.

  I enter the lavish house. With something like amusement, I realize that I’ve been building these kitchens for years. Half of the Life of Riley homes in Cherry Hill have this innovative open floor plan, and I just assumed it had been born on the job — surely by some clever architect, seeing as Mason isn’t good at design. But then something hits me, and I realize what’s off here. The kitchen must have been the creation of Mason’s late wife, Crystal. There are little Easter eggs like that rumored to be sewn throughout the company’s homes, but this is the first I’ve seen with my own eyes.

  I look at Riley. She’s keeping her distance, her eyes flicking between me and her father. I get the feeling I’ve interrupted something. The air is thick with things unsaid, and I’m obviously not the only one here Mason’s upset with.

  “So you’re just going to leave,” Mason says. “Leave us high and dry.”

  “If you’ll read that,” I say, pointing to my written notice still in his hand, “you’ll see that I’m giving the company all the time it needs to replace me. I’ll train whomever you need. But I honestly think I’m covered most of the way already. If you’d promoted me, who would have moved into project leader? Shaun?”

  “Probably,” Mason says.

  “I’ll tell him all he needs to know. I’ll hand over my contacts. Whatever you need.”

  Mason looks like he wants to protest, but there’s no way he can. I didn’t set out to give Mason a gotcha or flip him the bird on the way out, but it’s a nice side effect. Turns out, there are two ways to win a confrontation. The first is to dominate the discussion and get everything you want. The other is to give everything away before you’re asked.

  I step closer to Riley. This is a bit of a gambit, but luckily I’m good at poker. I know how to call a bluff, and know bullshit when I see it.

  “Why are you doing this?” Riley almost whispers, as if she thinks her father won’t hear us.

  “Because it hurts.”

  She looks at me funny. I decide I can explain later, depending on how this all turns out. But Bridget would be proud. I can’t have put myself more on display than I am now. If the way out is the most painful path, then I’m in excellent shape.

  I’ve been with Life of Riley for years. It’s a great company, with an owner I respect. I’ve learned a lot about Mason James, and even though there are people who say he’s greedy, I don’t agree. He’s smart and ambitious. So smart, in fact, that he has a history of making decisions that everyone thinks are stupid until they’re not. And he’s smart enough to always choose what’s objectively best, even if he doesn’t like it at all. And when it turns out that Mason is wrong, he always admits it.

  I reach out and take Riley by the hand.

  “You told me, that day at the office, that the mark of a good second man is the ability to make hard decisions.”

  A glance goes between Riley and her father. I wonder if I’ve missed something, if they’ve already had this discussion.

  “I’m making one now. It’s the hardest decision I’ve ever faced, I think.” I look at Riley and let those latent emotions come swelling to the surface. All the time I’ve spent thinking of her. All the thoughts I’ve denied. All the things I’ve meant to say but held back because it wasn’t proper or I couldn’t face what they’d mean. All the doubt. All the uncertainty. But if I don’t leap, I’ll never know.

  “I’ll have to be good if I stay. I’ll need to show up for work every day on time. I’ll need to attend all of the meetings you book. I’ll need to leap when you say. And maybe, in time, you’ll think I’m ready for the big chair again.”

  Mason looks a little confused. But with her hand in mine, Riley seems almost content.

  “But if, instead, I keep holding Riley’s hand and see if she’ll take my other one, I think I can convince you I’m the right man for another job.”

  Riley takes my other hand, and we stand there with our arms sagging between us, quiet. Mason is watching, something warring in his features.

  “Either way, if she’ll have me, I think I might want to be with your daughter. With or without a life at your company. But I think you believe in me. And I think you believe in Riley. Because you raised her. You know she’s not a fool.” I rub my thumb across the back of Riley’s hand, wanting to cup her face, run my hands through her hair. “You know that I’m not a fool, either.”

  Riley looks up at me — those big blue eyes, her wide smile hidden. If anything, she looks dire. I can read her face, though, and it’s as if she’s whispering in my ear: You could have kept your job. Now you have nothing. And believe me, the same thought has occurred to me, too. I’m in uncharted waters. But I think I know where islands might be found.

  “I’m going to be with her either way,” I say, looking down to Riley for confirmation. “We don’t have an elegant beginning to our story right now, as long as it remains a random encounter on one random night. But this?” I shrug, indicating the kitchen, the situation, the whole of this little display. “This is a damn fine beginning, I think.”

  Mason is looking at me. His face is serious, assessing. There’s nothing he can do. I’ve quit. He’s not going to hit me. If he’d get out of his own way, maybe he’ll see what I already have. The best solutions to any problem are the creative ones. Those outside the box. The solutions that don’t follow the playbook but instead make their own music.

  He could kick me out. He looks like he
might. But if he does, Riley will follow. Either way, his daughter will be with me — and if he can see past his initial anger, maybe he’ll see that I’m not all that bad. I served his company faithfully, loyally, for years. I have ambition I know he respects. Though our encounters were few and far between until recently, he’s always treated me like a father when I’ve seen him, and in the past weeks I think he’s seen me like a son. He didn’t just want to promote me. He wanted to groom me. To give me more and more responsibility until I had almost all of it. Not because I deserved it, but because I’m his very best. Because Life of Riley deserves me.

  I turn to Riley. I don’t exactly whisper, but my voice is quiet.

  “Tell me you’re into me,” I say. “Because if this is a ‘Thanks but no thanks’ situation, my whole plan falls apart, here.”

  She smiles. That big, white, beautiful, open smile. “I am,” she whispers back.

  That little whisper is all it takes. My heart seems to blossom. My hands tingle under her touch. I want to hold her to me, but there’s still the matter of her father. He’s everything to Riley, the way Bridget is everything to me.

  We don’t need his approval, but I want it. I want him to stop being so stubborn. To stop being Mason Fucking James long enough be a human. To step outside his anger and see this situation for what it is: a man coming to his daughter with nothing to hide and loyalty etched onto his cheek. A man who would be perfect for his little girl … if he can step outside his programming and knee-jerk reactions and his anger at the impulsive way we began.

  “Daddy?” Riley says. “What are you thinking?”

  Mason looks at me then at Riley. Then at me. Riley.

  “Daddy?”

  Mason’s face seems to break, and I sense him giving in. Letting things be. Accepting the unconventional, because what’s best doesn’t always seem right from the start.

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Princess,” he says.

  CHAPTER 40

  Riley

  I wake with my man’s arm around me.

  I’m lying on my side in our big white king, and the featherbed beneath us is like we’re resting on a cloud. For a moment, it’s like I’m floating, or maybe still dreaming. The view through the window is the best of the lot, I think. But I don’t need to think because I know. Because as these lots were plotted, Brandon and I walked each one. We stood and looked out across the valley and said, “Here is where our bedroom window will be.” At the time, it felt playful. But now I’m staring through the glass, and having seen through every one of the community’s potential windows, I can say without a doubt that this view is the best.

  To the left, far down and out of site, is where I used to play with Eva. I didn’t grow up here, but it’s part of my childhood, and this place, then, is part of me. To the right, also far down the valley, is Reed Creek. Where I used to go with my mother and father. And that’s part of me, too.

  This arm, slung over my side now. It’s part of me. Forever and ever and ever.

  I try to wiggle out from under Brandon’s arm, knowing he’s been working hard and needs to sleep. But I must wake him just a little because the hand stiffens. It grabs my naked breast playfully. Then less playfully. And then I’m turning toward him and kissing him, and we make love while the valley beyond greets the sun.

  After, he falls asleep, still with both of us on our sides, still with his arm over me. This time I extricate myself successfully, wash my face and brush my teeth in the bathroom, then head into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. I check my messages. There are a bunch, but none are pressing. It’s Sunday, and I don’t work on Sundays. But what most people don’t understand — although Brandon does and my father definitely does — is that there’s a happy middle ground between hating your job and being a workaholic. I genuinely enjoy all that I do. Not because it’s always exciting, but because I’m building something worth my time. I’m making life better. I’m adding to Cedar Creek — and, by extension, to Inferno Falls. Some day, this business will be mine. I’m building a future, board by board. And sure, for now I’m a manager. But I’m in no hurry, and my father’s in no rush to retire.

  I head up onto the rooftop deck in my robe. We have the only rooftop deck in the community — one of the perks of being the owner’s daughter and the vice president’s fiancée. Brandon had the place in his mind … for some time, it turns out. Converting it to reality, in one of our communities, was as simple as downloading his vision to an architect.

  I sit. And I breathe.

  I’ve moved on to checking my email when Brandon comes up and sits beside me.

  “You’re not dressed,” I say.

  “I’m dressed from the waist down.”

  I look. He’s wearing the polar bears. His chest is bare. Not that I’m complaining.

  “Monday.” I hold up my phone. “That’s just tomorrow. Can you believe they’re breaking ground on Hayes Park already?”

  Brandon takes my phone. He pockets it. But because he’s wearing pajama pants, the pockets are loose, and the phone just drops to the deck. Brandon lets it go. Either it’s broken or it’s not.

  I turn to look at his profile. It’s hard to believe that this jawline isn’t what sold me. When I met Brandon, he had it under wraps. The man’s version of a burka. I guess I got lucky that he turned out to be such great eye candy from the neck up.

  I reach out and brush his cheek. It’s covered with dark stubble.

  “Growing your beard back?”

  “Like I’m going to shave on a weekend.” He turns. “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  “It’ll cover the scar.”

  Brandon’s scar is long and aggressive. It’s not the kind of thing he could hide without growing a beard. But to me, it’s a badge of honor. It’s as much a part of who he is as his often-subtle sense of humor. Most people look at Brandon from his left and see a handsome young executive. I look at him from the right and see a hero. I’ve heard the story a few times now, from both Brandon and Bridget. Their versions differ slightly, mostly over the stupidity of Bridget’s choice of mate and/or Brandon’s refusal to step in earlier, but the essentials are the same. He’d seen the knife going in. He’d known what he was facing. But it was either Bridget or him, and on the whole he said he’d rather it be him.

  “I like your scar.” I trace it with my finger.

  Because to me, it’s proof that he’s paid life’s dues. That he isn’t soft. That he steps in when it matters. And that, contrary to what my father thought about us at first, Brandon doesn’t do anything halfway. Dad’s fears that I was a meaningless fling to Brandon may have felt real to my father, and looking back, I even understand them, given our start. But I knew the truth. I knew it that first night. The first time he smiled at me. The first time I felt something inside me drop like an elevator. The first time, much later, that he said he loved me. And then every time afterward.

  “You don’t have a choice,” he says.

  “I could divorce you.”

  “We’re not married.”

  “Not yet. I could marry you then divorce you.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Then take half your money.”

  “Because that’s what you need. My money. It’s just your father’s money, recycled through my paycheck.”

  Nothing could be further from the truth. Most people earn their money through hard work. Brandon earned his through hard work and a tough gamble. But he’d been right, and I suspect he’d always known he would be. My father is a smart man. And smart men don’t throw away valuable assets just because they let their hearts get the best of them. We angered Dad plenty, yes. But only fools hold grudges, and slice off their noses to spite their faces.

  “What do you want to do today?” Brandon asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “We have to do something.”

  I look over at him — at my strong, loyal, honorable man. Then I look out across the valley, back at the sun rising over the hill, at our r
ooftop deck with its comfortable chairs, at the cup of warm liquid in my hands.

  I set the coffee down. I reach over and take Brandon’s hand in mine.

  He’s wrong. We don’t have to do anything.

  We can do whatever we want, here and now, living the life of Riley.

  Inferno Falls Continues in Book Two ...

  Want more Inferno? CLICK HERE … the story continues in book 2!

  Gavin might just be the music that Abigail yearns for … if only his painful past will allow him to love again.

  Just a few months after arriving at Inferno Falls, Abigail can’t see the light at the end of her tunnel. No one can complain about being overworked and broke when the rest of the country’s the same way, but that doesn’t make it any easier when Abigail has to live the story every day. It’s not the work or the meager lifestyle she minds. Abigail wants something more...something inspired...something raw.

  Gavin is a grieving musician trying to re-discover his inspiration. He’s mourning a crushing loss, and life has become too mundane, too typical, to give him the material for songs that used to come so easy. What could he expect to find in Inferno Falls that would truly stir his heart? After all, he’s been shattered by love too many times to find comfort in a woman’s arms.

  The song begins in THE FORBIDDEN MUSE. Go here to get your copy:

  http://aubreyparker.net/book/the-forbidden-muse-inferno-falls-book-two/

  Stuff You Should Know

  Hey there. Thanks for reading The Boss’s Daughter, first in the Inferno Falls series! And an extra big thanks for taking a chance on me, as a new romance author. (I’ve actually written other books under a pen name. But that will have to stay a mystery for now. :) )

  If you liked this book, you’re going to love the next book in the series: The Forbidden Muse. You’ve already met the players. Remember Gavin, the musician from the Overlook? And remember Abigail, from the Nosh Pit? Turns out they might just need each other, but Gavin’s had one hell of a painful past. He’s not good at letting people get close, in case he gets hurt again. But that’s what the story is for, right?