Page 21 of Drunk on You

“You know how I found out he was stepping down?” she asks. “From a friend who had read it online. I’m his daughter, his only blood relative left, and he didn’t even offer me the position, knowing I’d been studying and working in this industry for most of my life. And when I called, upset, he told me he didn’t feel I was the right person for the position.”

“He said the same thing to me.”

“But you aren’t his child. You didn’t sit with him every night, begging for his attention and hoping you would finally have it one day when you were running the family company together.

“To be honest, when I called him, I didn’t even think I wanted the position, but then he told me I wasn’t right for it, and something inside of me just … broke.” Her hazel eyes meet mine. “I shouldn’t want or need his approval, but I do. I, Anastasia Belle Kingston-Webb, want my dad’s approval. I want to prove to him I’m worthy of working for the company that means the most to him. The company he chose over his daughter and wife, the company he lived and breathed for my entire life.”

She chokes out a sob, and I wish we weren’t in the car so I could pull her into my arms and hold her. She cries for a few minutes and then takes a deep breath and lifts her head up, squaring her shoulders and looking into my eyes.

“I understand you’ve worked for Kingston for a long time, and you probably, in a lot of ways, deserve this position,” she says, “but this is personal for me. I’ve never felt like I was enough for that man, but I’m going to show him that not only am I capable of running Kingston, but I’m also worthy of doing so.”

I open my mouth, unsure of what I’m going to say, but before I can get a word out, she stops me.

“And before you point out my daddy issues, I’m already aware, and I accept them. My dad has gone soft, and he wants me to get married and pop out a couple of kids so I can do shit differently than he did.

“He wants a relationship with me, and he doesn’t want to mix business and family, but what he doesn’t get is that I might be like him in a lot of ways, but we differ in one big way. I’m not selfish enough to get married and have kids, knowing my work is my life. He destroyed his family because he wanted it all, but I know better.”

Fuck, this woman. I can see the pain in her eyes, her desperation to prove herself to her father. And I can’t even say I get it because my stepdad and I have a close relationship and I have no desire to have any type of relationship with my sperm donor. But what she doesn’t understand is that I can’t just walk away from this, which leaves us at an impasse.

“So, what do we do?” I ask, making it clear that I’m not backing down from the position.

When she realizes my intention behind my words, Anastasia’s eyes turn into thin slits, going from emotional to savage in the blink of an eye. The transition is almost scary. “Once he knows you’re not actually the family man you’re pretending to be, he’s not going to hire you,” she says low, thinking she’s got this all figured out.

I bark out a laugh. “Wow, look at you … going from sweet to deadly in point-five seconds. By doing that, you’d be shooting yourself in the foot.”

“Okay, then what do you suggest we do? Keep going with this ridiculous fake engagement?” She scoffs, like she can’t even fathom being fake engaged to me when not too long ago, we were flirting and damn close to fucking.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I propose we do. We continue this charade until he hires one of us to take his place.”

She laughs. “You really think he’s going to pick you over his own daughter?”

“Well, I think I have a damn good chance since he didn’t ask you in the first place.” It’s a low blow, but, fuck, she’s making it hard to be nice to her.

“Fuck you!” she spits, swinging open the car door and getting out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m speaking the truth!” I call out, stalking after her.

When we get inside, she goes straight to the kitchen and grabs the bottle of wine from earlier, pouring herself a glass.

“You can talk all the shit you want,” she says, taking a sip of the wine. “But you don’t know me, and there’s a reason why my dad says I’m just like him. When I want something, nothing and nobody will stop me from getting it.”

“Okay, Red,” I say, bridging the gap between us. “Challenge accepted.”

I extend my hand, and she rolls her eyes.

“Red? Real original.”

She clasps my hand, and we shake.

“May the best man—” I begin.

“Or woman,” she corrects.

“May the best man or woman win,” I say. And then with a smirk that I know will piss her off, I add, “Oh, and, Anastasia?”

She glares my way.

“I didn’t nickname you Red because of your lips.”

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