“Oh, thanks! Sure.”
Once they’d gotten the bike secured in his trunk, Fifi hopped in the passenger seat.
“Grover,” the man said, offering his hand.
Fifi shook it. “Very nice to meet you. Trina has shown some good improvement.”
“Haha. Well, she’s trying, that’s for sure.”
“That’s key. I had to work my butt off when I was her age. It was so worth it.”
“Trina, I’m going to drop you off first since our house is closer than Sophie’s. Mom is waiting for you.”
Fifi’s mind started to wander after they dropped Trina off. Grover was telling her about Trina’s challenges at her new primary school, asking her questions about herself, her school, ballet, her future plans, but Fifi’s mind was far away. She was daydreaming about the ideal daddy she’d created in her imagination. Although she enjoyed the conversation no man, let alone Grover, could compete with the perfect daddy she believed in all her heart was somewhere out there.
A mysterious figure known as Elijah.
She remembered meeting him once or twice when she was very little. She remembered him being handsome, charming, and nothing short of magnificent. She remembered running around his huge condo and breaking a sculpture of a ballerina in his house. Instead of yelling at her, he’d shown genuine concern for her wellbeing. Her mother, of course, wouldn’t tell her much about who Elijah was, but Fifi had done some investigation. From the information available, she had come to the conclusion that: he had known her when she was a newborn baby, he had given her his entire collection of childhood books, he had been the one who first called her Fifi, and he had paid for her entire schooling, including the exclusive ballet academy.
Recently, she’d further deduced that Elijah was none other than Elijah Pine, founder and CEO of Holofractal Inc, a publicly listed company at the forefront of artificial intelligence and metamaterials research. She'd watched his interviews. Beyond his obvious business prowess, he seemed to be an incredibly thoughtful man. Even when talking about morphogenic fields or neural networks, he would often quote classical philosophers like John Locke and Thomas Hobbes. Most often, he would reference Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a man he credited with providing the most succinct deconstruction of the liberal-Marxist way of thinking that many young people now subscribed to.
Fifi had not, however, been able to find out much about Elijah’s personal life. His Wiki said he did not have any children and had never been married. She gathered that he must be quite the playboy as all the pictures of him at galas and events showed him with different women or groups of women surrounding him. The women he was photographed with always seemed to be looking at him with lusty eyes.
“You know, you’re very pretty. Do you have a boyfriend, Sophie?” Grover asked.
Fifi’s mind jumped back into the present. She smiled coyly. “I’m not really ready to date.”
“Well, that’s lucky for your dad. I’m sure once you are ready, there’ll be a line-up around the street corner,” he said, winking. “Heck, I’d join them if I were younger.”
Fifi knew how to deal with older men. She’d met some real lowlifes in her life, especially the men her mom would often bring home. Compared to them, Grover was a pushover.
“Well, thank you, Grover. That’s a sweet compliment. I’ll be sure to tell my dad you said that.”
Grover looked at her with his head tilted.
“I’m here,” she said, pointing.
He pulled to the curb and got out to help her reassemble her bike.
She could see Grover checking out her ass as she helped him with the wheel, so Fifi quickly employed an old trick. “What does your wife do?”
When men were naughty, the best way to discourage them was to remind them who they might be hurting. As he finished telling her about his wife, they had finished. Fifi blew Grover a kiss then strode to the front door of the dorm.
Desperate for her own space after having lived with her mother and all the men she brought home, and then living in a shared dormitory with seven other girls until just a few months back, Fifi had opted for the privacy of a single dorm room. The room wasn’t much, but Fifi had decorated the space to make it a charming alcove all her own. Fairy lights were strung all around and inspirational posters hung from the walls. Fluffy rugs gave it a warm, cozy vibe, and splashes of vibrant color made it cheerful.
As she collapsed on her bed, her thoughts drifted back to Elijah. She wondered what Elijah was like as a person, if he had that daddy energy she adored so much.
Suddenly, it hit her: Elijah must be her biological dad!
Why else would he have given her his most precious collection of books? Why else had he been so kind to her and paid for practically her entire upbringing? What else had he done on the sidelines that she was not even aware of?
There was no other explanation. She must be the illegitimate daughter of Elijah.
Chapter 10
In his arms
The grand glass doors opened to reveal a contemporary, clean, and cool lobby with a reception desk behind which sat a stunning woman with a perky blonde ponytail. She looked to be in her early twenties.
Fifi was wearing her interview dress, something she’d purchased when she’d realized she couldn’t spend her life in ballet garb. It was a turquoise silk Calvin Klein that brushed her knees and covered her shoulders while hugging her figure in all the right places. She’d picked it up at an outlet store at a fantastic discount, and today was the dress’ public debut. On her feet, she wore her only high heels, a designer hand-me-down from her mom. She’d kept her makeup light, with just a touch of concealer under her eyes, mascara, and tinted lip gloss. She’d brushed out her long, light brown hair and it tumbled down her body, tickling her lower back. She didn’t often wear it down, but today was a special occasion.
“Hi, I’m here to see Elijah Pine, please?”
The receptionist barely looked up from her computer screen. She’d been typing away furiously. “Do you have a meeting?”
“No. Sorry, I just need a quick word with h—”
“He’s in a meeting with his senior managers. It will be at least another few hours.” Her brows rose. “You’re welcome to wait if you like. I’ll let him know there’s someone here waiting to speak to him after his meeting.” She picked up her mobile phone and started typing away with her manicured fingers, likely a message to Elijah informing him of Fifi’s presence. Of course, he couldn’t know who she was, but Fifi was already daydreaming of the look on his face when he saw his daughter for the first time in so long. It was going to be utterly magical.
“Oh, thank you. Yes, I’ll wait.” Fifi turned on her heel and walked to the gray sofa in the corner and took a seat. She reached into her purse and pulled out a copy of The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky. She was rereading it for the fifth time as she did with all the books she loved. She opened to her bookmark and sat back.
Occasional bouts of loud voices escaped the closed doors while she waited. She assumed the predominant male voice to be Elijah’s. She recognized his distinctive voice from having watched his interviews. He seemed like a really good boss—firm and inspiring, just as I expected. Intelligent, powerful, accomplished, Elijah was everything she imagined her daddy to be. Fifi smiled to herself.
The skies were near dark by the time the meeting wound down. Fifi had nearly finished her book. A towering man opened and held the door while the others exited. He wore a navy blue sports coat with a polo shirt underneath, paired with dark washed jeans and lace-up boots. His hair was wavy and swept to the side, his facial hair well-groomed, and there were hints of gray in both. His bright blue eyes caught Fifi’s momentarily. She quickly looked away, blushing for having been caught staring at him.
“Hey, you wanna come for a drink at The Brick?” one man asked as he was walking out the door.
Elijah nodded. “Yeah, sure. You guys heading there now?” He looked at his watch—a Piaget, of course.
�
��Yeah, just gonna jump in a cab.”
“All right. I’ll meet you there.”
“Um, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Pine, but this young lady has been waiting to see you for hours,” his receptionist jumped in.
Elijah shook his head and looked to Fifi.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry—how rude of me.” Elijah’s gaze shifted from the receptionist to Fifi and then his colleagues. “You guys go ahead; I’ll try to join later.”
Once everyone had left, Elijah approached Fifi. He noticed her book. “Dostoevsky, my favorite.”
“Mine too.” She beamed.
“Really? What’s your favorite of his books?”
It felt like a test, but Fifi didn’t mind. “I’ve read all his fiction. I’m rereading The Brothers Karamazov now, but Crime and Punishment is absolutely glorious, so is Notes from Underground. I love all his short stories. Really, everything he writes is gold.”
Elijah smiled. “Would you like to come to my office?”
His office was nothing short of impressive: granite floors, leather chairs, a white sofa, and a glass coffee table. He had a huge hardwood desk with a futuristic-looking executive chair, in front of which were two chairs for client meetings. Behind his desk, the entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stocked end to end. Brown and beige carpet added warmth and style to the room, sheer curtains added privacy without disguising the panoramic city view. Leafy, healthy plants sprung from huge vases on both sides of the window, framing the view.
“You’re quite well-read for a young lady,” he remarked as she walked past him while he held the door for her. He walked to his mini-fridge. “Would you like a mineral water?”
“Oh, no. Thank you.” Fifi’s stomach was in knots; she couldn’t possibly have kept anything down.
He took one for himself.
“Yeah, I developed a love for reading at a young age. I had to grow up fast, the books helped.”
“Why’s that?”
“My mom wasn’t the best role model … and my dad … well, he’s been off making the world a better place and hasn’t made any attempt to see me in years.”
“Why wouldn’t your dad want to see you?” he asked, taking a sip from his water bottle. “You seem like an intelligent, articulate young lady. Not to mention, beautiful.”
“Well, that’s kind of why I’m here.” she twirled her hair between her index and middle finger. “I grew up without knowing who my dad was. But I think I’ve worked it out—I think it’s you.”
Elijah laughed. “What makes you think that?”
“Do you remember a woman named Vivian?”
His face stiffened and his brow furrowed. “Yes …”
“Do you remember her daughter Fifi?”
His eyes widened, his jaw dropped. “You’re Fifi?”
“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Wow. Little Fifi, all grown up,” he said with a huge grin on his face. “It’s so great to see you. You look fantastic.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pine.”
“Elijah, please.”
“Right. Elijah. Like the name written on my wheelbarrow.”
“Ha. I’d forgotten about that,” he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “Did you read all those books?”
“At least five times each. I love them all.”
“Huh, sounds like you really do love reading. I’m glad I had a positive impact on you.”
“I remember breaking that statue in your house … you were so kind to me.”
“That’s right. You have a good memory, Fifi.”
“Must be all the books I’ve read.” She smirked.
“And you set up that trust fund for me, too. That allowed me to get out of my mom’s house and become a ballerina. I’m a ballet teacher now.”
“Ah, that explains the impeccable posture. Good for you, Fifi. I’d love to come and see you perform sometime.”
“Oh, that would be nice.” There was a moment of silence, then she continued, “So, are you my daddy?”
He tilted his head to the side and frowned apologetically. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no.”
“How can you be so sure?” she whined.
“I didn’t even get to know Vivian until after you were born.”
Fifi went silent for a moment, her lip trembling. A tear rolled down her cheek. “This sucks! I’ve been following your career for years, and even though you don’t realize it, you’re kind of my role model.”
Elijah, who had been leaning on his desk, pushed himself upright and walked toward her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from her chair. He hugged her. His aftershave was heavenly. She leaned into him, feeling secure with his muscular arms wrapped around her, not wanting the moment to end.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he rasped in her ear. “I’m sorry that this meeting didn’t go the way you’d planned.”
“It’s okay,” her voice shook. She wiped away another tear that was about to drop. “I’m used to disappointments. I should probably go.” She released herself from his embrace and walked to the door.
“Fifi,” he called out to her.
She turned around, swallowed, then looked at him.
“Got any plans for dinner?”
Chapter 11
Can I kiss you?
Fifi was dressed beautifully but modestly. She wore a cardigan over a white tank top, a light blue maxi skirt, and her hair was in a low ponytail. She finished slicing thin slivers of beef chuck and tipped the meat into a cast-iron skillet. It sizzled as she sliced up mushrooms and onions to toss in. She put down her stirring spoon on the counter and let the mixture brown. Grabbing her glass of water by the sink, she walked to the balcony past the jacuzzi. The city view was incredible, even on cloudy days. Fifi loved being out there at night to see the stars and buildings twinkle. When’s Daddy coming home, she wondered and took a sip.
For over a year, Fifi had been meeting Elijah two or three times a month, sometimes more. At first, he wouldn’t invite her back to his condo, preferring to meet her out for dinner. She enjoyed their conversations about her life, his political views, their debates over the works of different philosophers. However, after a few months of fancy dinners, Fifi had hinted that she wanted to do things with him other than going to expensive restaurants. He took the hint and had started taking her to museums, classical music concerts, and ballet performances.
Though she’d come to terms with the fact that he was not biologically her dad, she thought of him as a daddy-figure. Sometimes accidentally called him daddy out loud. He was the closest thing to a dad she’d ever known, and she treasured their relationship because of it. It wasn’t because of the expensive dinner dates and shows he took her to; she was just as happy sitting on a blanket at the park with her legs draped over him as she was in balcony seats overlooking the stage on the opening night of a new show.
Recently, Fifi had been seeing more of Elijah. His company had gained enough momentum that he no longer needed to spend every waking hour working. He was learning to delegate most tasks, something Fifi continually reminded him to do more of. As a result, he had more free time to do the things he enjoyed.
Fifi had also noticed he’d been going on fewer and fewer dates with other women and was hosting fewer social gatherings at home. Being forty-five didn’t make him an old man, but his priorities in life certainly seemed to be changing. Perhaps it had been Fifi who had brought about this transformation. Perhaps that was why he had started spending more time with her, inviting her to spend time at his place.
Fifi walked back to the kitchen and stirred the searing mixture of beef, onions, and mushrooms. Pleased with its progress, she gave it a sprinkling of salt, freshly ground black pepper, and paprika. She dolloped in a teaspoon of spicy mustard. An idea came to her, and she grinned to herself. She reached into a high cupboard and pulled out a bottle of soy sauce. She drizzled the ebony liquid into the mix.
Soy sauce certainly wasn’t a traditio
nal ingredient in stroganoff, but she was feeling cheeky and defiant. Fifi loved cooking. Bored of frozen meals, she’d taught herself to cook from a young age, and had taken over cooking for herself and her mother until she moved out. She wasn’t able to cook at the ballet academy, and she’d missed the art. When she’d mentioned that to Elijah over dinner at yet another posh restaurant one night, he invited her to cook at his place any time she wanted.
“Really? I always thought your condo was off-limits,” Fifi had answered, surprised by how casually he had brought up something they hadn't ever discussed before.
“Well, I do like to keep my condo private, but I also love home-cooked meals. It’s a toss-up. Tell you what, you can cook at my place, but you’re only allowed in the kitchen,” he’d joked with a wink.
She’d stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “What? Are you going to chain me to the stove? No deal!”
“All right, all right, wear me down why don’t you. Come over whenever; make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa, and all that.”
She recalled when she’d shown up at his door to cook dinner there for the first time. Stepping into Elijah’s condo, old memories came flooding back. She could practically see her younger self crying over the broken ballerina statue, and Elijah crouching down to reassure her. She'd always remembered it, but being there had made her memory so much clearer. It had been surreal.
The door opened, yanking Fifi from her memories. Elijah was home. Fifi turned off the flame on the stove and ran to the door to greet him. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
She hopped into his arms, wrapping her hands behind his neck and her legs around his waist before he even had a chance to put his bag down.
“What a greeting!” He sniffed the air. “Mm, whatever you're cooking smells amazing.” He carried her, supporting her butt and her back, to the sofa. “Seriously, what are you cooking for dinner?” he asked her, placing her down gently, kissing her forehead, and sitting down beside her.
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