“Is my father all right?” I ask after we exchange greetings.
The nurse hesitates. “He’s sleeping now. I’d wake him but--”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. He needs his sleep.” He’s been sleeping more and more lately. I give instructions for the nurse to call me when he wakes. I’m sure Adam pestered him about coming to the engagement party. I add that to my list of things to confront my ‘fiancé’ about.
Can’t wait. Not. If I could, I’d tell the driver to turn the car around.
But no. The new Daphne doesn’t avoid conflict. Still, all too soon the car is pulling up to one of the first high rises built in New Olympus, a grand old building repurposed into an event space. I order the driver to pull around back to avoid the caterers and crew setting up in the ballroom downstairs. Hopefully I can get my dress, hair, and makeup done before anyone sees me.
Rachel is pacing in a fancy private parlor on the second floor. “Daphne,” she breathes and I rush to give her a hug. Wow, I’ve really missed her. So much has happened. I could use a friend to confide in.
“You okay?” she draws back to study my face. She looks worried but I just give her arm a squeeze.
“Yep. Let’s do this.” I strip quickly out of my clothes.
“Holy shit. You’re pierced.” Rachel’s mouth hangs open.
Oops. “Yes.” No use feigning a shyness I don’t feel. I’m not ashamed. I go to the mirror to inspect the piercings.
“When?”
“Logan did it.”
Rachel shakes her head, but says nothing as I pull my saline spray from my purse. I ignore her, sharing a shy smile with the woman in the mirror.
Thank you, Logan, for marking me. Just seeing them reminds me of who I am. Of my strength. Warmth pools in my lower belly as I care for my piercings as he ordered.
“Um, I got a few dresses, but with those,” Rachel waves at my chest, “This one might be the best option.” She holds up a gold dress with a sweetheart top.
“No,” I say. “I ordered something myself. It should’ve been delivered with the rest.” At Rachel’s skeptical look, I smile and add, “No tree costume this time, I promise.” I go to the roller rack of dresses and rummage until I find the green sheath. “Here.” Green reminds me of Logan, and I need all the reminders I can get.
Rachel pauses as I hold up the dress against myself, eyeing me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, but then she crosses her arms over her chest. “There’s something different about you.” She rolls her eyes. “Apart from the obvious.” She gestures at my boobs but then gets serious again, obviously waiting for my answer.
There are a thousand things on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her about all of it. About Logan and how amazing and electric he is. About the future I’ve only begun daring to hope for with him. About how screwed up everything is with the company and Adam, complicated even more by how much Logan hates him and—
I reach out and grab Rachel’s hand. “Let’s just get through tonight. This week, you and me. We’ll go out for coffee or stay in and have a movie night and download everything going on in each other’s lives.”
Rachel squeezes my hand back. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Now, get your ass in this chair so the stylist can do her wonders. She’ll be here any sec—” Right then the doorbell rings and Rachel springs up to go answer it.
An hour later, my hair and make up are done and I’m in the sheath dress. The neckline is high enough to keep my nipples in a full coverage bra. Rachel pleads and I change into red lingerie she brought, tags still on. The bra is simple but the thong is lace. She looks so relieved, I have a thought.
“Why do you want me to wear this so badly? Did you buy it?”
She hesitates, obviously torn.
“Wait, Adam bought me this, didn’t he?” Part of me wants to take it off and put back on my own on principle, but my cotton briefs show a panty line. And besides, it’s not like Adam’s ever going to see me in the lingerie set.
“It’s okay,” I wave a hand. “Zip me up?” I bow my head and Rachel obliges.
“I’m sorry, Daphne,” Rachel says softly. “Adam’s been insistent on certain things. I know you’re my boss but…”
“But one day he might be too.” Guilt flushes me. I’ve been thinking of myself, considering my options, but I’m not the only one affected by the Belladonna merger. And Rachel isn’t just my friend. She’s my employee. “It’s fine. I put you in a tough position, and I want you to know that I appreciate having you in my corner.”
She gives me a thin smile. There are lines on her forehead and around her eyes that I’ve never noticed before. This whole ordeal has weighed on her.
“Hey, I know,” I say on impulse. “After all this is done, let’s just get away together. You and me. Not just for coffee. We’ll have a girl’s spa weekend. The full pampering treatment.”
“Okay,” Rachel says, but she doesn’t look at me. “I’ve got to go change.”
“Of course.” I drop her hand and head to the mirror to check out my ‘do. The stylist worked wonders, but there’s a flush to my cheeks that’s more than makeup. I’m glowing.
“So how’s tonight going to go?” Rachel asks from behind the screen where she’s changing into her own gown. “What are you going to say to Adam?”
“What I should’ve said in the first place.” I raise my chin at the woman in the mirror. She looks strong, determined. Game time. “I’m going to break off the engagement.”
Rachel is silent until she emerges. She’s wearing a sheath in a floral pattern.
“Oh you look so great,” I gush but she doesn’t smile. Her face is pale.
“How? The board and everyone will be here.”
“I’ll be discreet. I don’t want to cause a scene.” I shrug. I haven’t let myself sweat the details. It’s enough that I’m here and that I’m not leaving without this engagement being broken. “I’ll pull Adam aside and tell him. Honestly, he’s the one who planned this party. I’d have told him no, if he’d consulted me.”
Rachel looks so suddenly panicked, I catch her hand again. It’s cold as marble.
“Sheesh, you’re freezing,” I chafe her hand. “You look a bit pale. Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. I just haven’t eaten all day.” She draws up her cheeks in a forced smile but there’s still worry in her eyes. “Come on,” she says. “Adam and the guests are waiting.”
* * *
I have to credit Adam; he has great taste in everything but engagement rings. And he knows how to throw a party. The building is gorgeous. The foyer is dripping with floral displays. I stop on the grand marble staircase and take in the sea of about a thousand roses. One display is smaller but more tasteful. I recognize the blowsy blooms as pink Edens, a climbing variety of garden rose.
Rachel pauses beside me. “Your father sent those.”
Shit. Dad. I never called back to try to catch him after his nap. “He’s not coming? He’s been resting a lot when I call but the nurse said he’s been feeling better lately.”
“Adam told him about the engagement party,” Rachel says. “Dr. Laurel was pleased.”
Of course he was. Dad always did like things neat and tidy. “I need to call him.” Tell him I’m breaking my engagement to his favorite surrogate son. Dad will be disappointed. A pang goes through me at the thought, but I shake my head.
What does it matter what my dad thinks? It’s my life. I get to choose who to marry and I deserve to be happy. Why does that feel like such a rebellious thought? It’s absurd that choosing my own happiness should have to feel like such an act of courage. But it only makes me more determined to stand firm in my new truth.
As Rachel leads me down a side hall so we can slip into the back of the ballroom, an image of me marrying Logan, dressed in a slave collar, jeweled piercings and nothing else flies through my head. I grin at the ridiculous thought, but then sigh. Dad would have a fit if I even mentioned the name ‘
Logan’ and ‘marry’ in the same sentence. Better break it to him gently.
Then my eyes fly open wide at the thoughts so casually running through my head. Not that Logan wants to marry me. It’s too soon to be thinking about that. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I need to sort out my life first and he’s never even said—
“Here we are,” Rachel says, breaking into my thoughts as she pauses before a back door to the ballroom. Beyond the white and gilt doors, the crowd murmuring is a dull roar.
“One sec.” I check my purse and pull out my phone. No missed calls. Nothing from dad. Or Logan. Am I happy or sad about the latter? “The nurse said she’d have Dad call when he woke up. She must have forgotten--”
“Shit, Daphne,” Rachel interrupts. “do you have the ring?”
Right. Almost forgot. I pull it out of my purse. “Right here.”
A bevy of servers, dressed in black tuxedos with gold cummerbunds, stream by. Rachel pulls me into an alcove.
“Are you going to wear it?” Rachel’s eyes are wide.
“No.” Rach looks so shocked, I take pity on her. “I have a plan.” I dig in my purse and pull out the long green opera gloves I ordered along with the dress. I tug them on and drop the ring back in my purse, then waggle my fingers at Rachel. “See? Doesn’t go with the outfit.” She looks doubtful, but I pull out of a pair of white gloves for her. “It’ll make sense when we match.”
I check my phone again as she pulls on her own pair of gloves but no texts or calls have come in in the last minute and I put it away.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess. You seem eager.”
“I am.” I can’t believe it, but I am. I’m ready to get this done with and prove to myself once and for all that I have changed. I place a hand on the fancy gilt door, ready to push it open. Nervousness flutters in my chest, but I expect it, embrace it.
For the first time in my life, I’m owning what I want. And I’m going to fight until I get it.
Twenty-Four
7 Years Ago
Logan
I flip through the secure notes from the investor meeting while standing in the lab. I had to do some finagling to even get my hands on these but there are still some people in the company who know how closely I work with Dr. Laurel and respect me.
Ha. That’s a joke if I ever heard one, but I’ll take what I can get while I can get it. I haven’t talked to the great Professor in weeks and I barely even caught a glimpse of him at the funeral. I was far more concerned with Daphne, whom the great Dr. Laurel barely took note of. His own daughter.
I used to think he was a great man doing great things.
Now I think he’s just…lost. And he never treated his daughter right. But if he’s not careful, his company is going to get stolen out from underneath him by his board, headed by that blond bastard, Adam Archer.
I flip to a third page and my eyes scan the first few lines. “What the fuck?”
I slap the papers down, disbelieving, before lifting them back up and continuing to read. “That son of a bitch.” I knew Adam was a slimy opportunist, but I didn’t realize he was this slimy.
Footsteps have me looking up, and there he is, the son of a bitch in question.
He’s got a shiny apple in hand and he takes a big, obnoxious bite. “Miss me?” he asks through his mouthful of apple.
I point at him. “I see you. I see what you’re trying to do to this company.”
“What?” He throws his hands in the air. “Make it profitable? Bring out the firing squad for such a horrible offense.”
Jackass. “I know what you did. I know you took credit for all my innovations in the lab. Anyone with eyes can check the lab logs and know it would’ve been impossible for you to have discovered what you said you did. You haven’t even been here.”
But he just laughs at me. “You think anyone gives a shit about lab logs? It’s all about the package.” He swipes up and down himself. “‘Golden-boy-genius saves company’ makes a far better story than ‘some street rat diddles himself in lab for years, not in time to save the boss’s wife but look, here’s some face cream out of it at least’—”
I grab him by his shirt and slam him up against the nearest wall.
He just smirks at me and speaks in a condescending tone. “Yes, violence is always the answer to you low-class types, isn’t it? Help me help you on your way out. Take a swing.”
I drop him and take several stumbling steps back. This is all a game to him. A game where he thinks he’s pulling the strings. He thinks he’s always in control.
“Too bad. That was your last chance. Shoulda taken it.”
I glare up at him, but not in time. I don’t see him coming until he’s almost on top of me, fists swinging.
“Fucker!” I shout, and try to get an arm up to block, but I’m too late. His blow lands square on my left cheek, and it knocks me to the floor. He’s wearing a class ring and it digs in and tears my flesh, so there’s blood running down my cheek when he’s done.
He dances back to his feet and smooths down his suit coat and pants. Then he just shakes his head at me on the floor in disgust. “You’re done here. Pack your shit and leave.”
I want to get up, roar in rage, and tear his fucking face off. Anyone who really knows the guy would understand and cheer me on.
But that’s the thing. Nobody does know the real Adam Archer. He’s that plastic for a reason—so everyone believes the benign Ken-doll act. It’s his secret weapon.
And what happens to Daphne if I suddenly go to jail for assault and battery. Because if I started in on Adam, I don’t know if I could stop. Where does that leave the girl who’s always left behind, last in everyone’s considerations?
I can’t be one more person she counts on to just up and disappear from her life.
Even thinking of her makes all the shit I’m feeling a little less oppressive. I pull my phone out of my lab coat and call her. I know it’s old school, an actual phone call, but I’d kill to hear her voice right now.
She doesn’t answer, but I still close my eyes and sink back against the wall while I listen to her message: This is Daphne’s phone. I’m not here right now but leave a message and…yada yada, you know the rest. Bye!
It would be creepy to call back just so I can listen to her chipper voice on the message, right? And I know it was recorded a long time ago, back before her mom died. She’s having a hard time with everything, not that you’d know it by the way she’s absolutely disappeared into her studies.
Some kids would’ve abandoned working so hard after losing the parent all the work was intended to save, but not Daph. Never Daph. It was like there was a new fire under her butt now that Battleman’s had taken her mom, like she wanted to say F you to the disease even more, and was more determined than ever to figure out what made it tick and how to stop it.
Like father, like daughter, except that I suspected if Daphne ever had children, she’s take all the time in the world to love and cherish them.
For just a brief second, I let the fantasy take shape, Daphne and I coming home from the lab together, picking the kids up from school, then all going home to cook a rambunctious dinner…a family, a home, everything I never had but always dreamed of…or really only let myself dream of since meeting her.
Everything seems possible when I’m with her. It’s her magic.
But she’s still so young, and vulnerable after her mother’s death. I can’t go with all this to her—she’s still in college, already working too hard and the last one I want Adam pointing his sights on is her if he decides she’s a threat to his plan.
And that means I need to fight for her company. Because she can’t yet.
Which leaves only one person left to put a stop to Adam’s ambitions before he destroys us all.
I need to go have a chat with Dr. Laurel.
* * *
When I knock on the door to Daphne’s father’s office, at first I don’t hear anything.
“I tol
d you, he’s asked for no visitors,” his aged assistant chides.
“Well, he needs to speak to me or he’s going to have his company stolen right out from under him.”
She purses her lips but then sits back in her chair and picks up her yarn needles.
“Dr. Laurel,” I pound on the door again, since her calling his office had no effect. “It’s Logan. I need to speak to you.”
Finally, finally, there’s movement from within and the doorknob creaks open. He doesn’t stay at the door to greet me, He just pulls it open and then disappears back into the dark room.
There are no lights on. The blinds aren’t open. Maybe my eyes will adjust but after the bright fluorescents of the waiting room, it first appears pitch black in here. I can only barely make out the shape of a man sitting behind his desk, and it’s only when he moves, to take a drink of something, that I’m sure.
I clear my throat. I’ll just pretend like nothing’s wrong. Probably the best way to play this. “Look, Sir, I don’t know what the best way to tell you this is, but Adam Archer is trying to steal your company out from underneath you and turn it into something completely different than you ever envisioned.”
I wait for him to say something, to sound aggrieved or apologetic or appalled by the situation, but I’m only met with silence.
“That is to say, sir, as you can see here,” I pull the papers recounting the minutes of the board meeting and thrust them on the desk in front of his face, “Here Archer clearly states that the lab discoveries of the new molecule were made by him, with no mention of you or me. And he further proposed that a full 95% of Belladonna’s resources be poured into cosmetics research and production instead of our core mission to cure pernicious diseases—”
Dr. Laurel suddenly stands up, so violently his chair shoves backward into the wall behind him. “What does any of it matter? She’s gone, so who the fuck cares now?”
“But—” I sputter. “But you were the one who told me how much the world needed our research, how it was never just about one patient, it was—”
Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set Page 28