“Thank you, sir. So am I.”
He nods at me and leaves. Dad gives me a hard stare. “You just had to stick that in there, didn’t you?”
“Stick what?” I demand, unhappy that he’s angry with me, when I tried to be as diplomatic as possible.
“About the better opportunity.”
“What did you want me to say? It’s the truth.” It isn’t my fault he blew it. All he had to do was give me the recognition I deserve.
“You sound so smug, but you shouldn’t. Everyone knows you got the job at OWM because of your boyfriend. A hundred million can buy a lifetime of employment.” He smirks a little, like he knows a secret nobody else does.
I start to dismiss him, but the number he quoted is too specific. “What are you talking about?”
“Court gave a hundred million dollars to Gavin. Well, he opened an account at OWM for that amount, but it’s the same thing. More than enough to pay your salary and benefits for years to come.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” He’s only saying this because he’s upset and the encounter with Cristiano embarrassed him.
“You weren’t going to get an interview anywhere,” Dad says. “You weren’t promoted in four years, Pascal. People looked at your résumé and probably thought—geez, how crappy is she that not even her own father could stomach moving her up the ladder? You suspected that deep inside, didn’t you? And I knew something was up when you got a job with Gavin. Do you know Gavin and Court know each other? Not directly, but through friends. They all hang out in the same circles. So the man you thought was supportive of you was really manipulating you the entire time. And you accused me of being dishonest.”
I inhale sharply as what he’s saying stabs into my heart like a knife. Pain starts, but mentally I put it into an iron box and put it away. I’m not letting Dad ruin the end of my welcome lunch. “You know what? I don’t believe you. And I don’t even understand why you’re doing this when your whole end game is for me to marry Court.”
“Because he isn’t going to marry you. He’s just playing around. He wants you to work and be independent”—he curls his lips in a smug line—“so that when he dumps you, he won’t feel so bad. He hasn’t said anything to you about a future together, has he?”
My mouth feels parched. Dad seems to know every vulnerable point I have and how to squeeze maximum pain from all of them. “I gotta go. My new coworkers are waitin
g.”
Dad says nothing, but as I walk off, I can feel his stare boring into my back. Although I tell myself I shouldn’t listen and let him ruin my day, I keep thinking about what he said about Court and his account at OWM. Maybe Dad’s just unhappy Court didn’t put his money with SFG. Or maybe Dad misunderstood Court opening a new account at OWM. Court could’ve had it since forever. Rich people have others take care of their money anyway. Or maybe it’s as crass and simple as him being pissed off Court isn’t doing what Dad wants—marry me, make me quit my job and pamper me like a princess or whatever Dad decides I deserve. Unlike my exes, Court says and does what he wants, and he’s gone up against Dad to defend me. Dad has to know Court’s been supportive of my choices.
Somehow I manage to get through the afternoon. Thank God. I begin to close all the apps and browser on my laptop to shut it down, then stop. Instead of stewing about what Dad said, I should just check it out. I can access the client list at OWM, after all.
My mouth dry, I pull up the internal database. As I type in Court’s name, I start to feel silly. The search result is going to show I’m being paranoid. And I’m going to end up feeling like an idiot for even doing this.
But my fingers move on autopilot, and hit enter.
Harcourt Roderick Blackwood. Client since…
Pain sears my heart as though a needle has lanced it. Then my pulse accelerates, hot blood roaring through me like a swollen river breaking a dam. The date is exactly one day after I got the interview call from Hilary. It’s etched into my memory because it brought such hope, relief and anxiety.
Come on, girl. It’s probably a coincidence. Didn’t he see a lawyer around that time? Maybe the attorney guy arranged this.
But the lawyer works for Court’s father, and Court was pissed off about getting a letter from him.
I breathe in and out, forcing myself to go slow, reining in my thoughts. There’s got to be a simple explanation for this. He could’ve joined because he got pissed off after seeing the lawyer and decided to put his money to work so he doesn’t have to. Or maybe he got lazy about his finances until the news of my interview reminded him he needed to do something.
Or it could just be a coincidence. Just because one happens after another doesn’t mean there’s cause and effect. God, that’s one of the first things you learn when you’re doing analysis.
I shut down my laptop and shove it into my bag. Then, very deliberately, I stand and take a deep breath. I’m just going to ask Court. Not accusingly; I’ll just bring it up. And whatever explanation he gives—no matter what my head says—I’ll accept. Because that’s what I owe him for being on my side.
Chapter Forty-Six
Pascal
The drive home sucks. Damn traffic. Pascal’s Twentieth-First Century Law: The more urgency there is, the worse the traffic.
On the other hand, maybe the extra time is good. It gives me a space to calm down, gather my thoughts and come up with a few good ways to approach the topic. I don’t want to sound accusing and ruin what Court and I have between us. But how do I bring it up? Just ask point-blank? Maybe mention if he wants to have money there? Gently pry about how he’s managing his fortune?
But what if that makes it sound like I’m overly interested in his bank balance? Ugh. That’s so not what this is about.