Page 50 of The Billionaire Babe

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VALERIE

“I can’t believe you are doing this. I am so proud of you,” Chloe murmurs from beside me as we walk into my father’s house together. I would much rather be with AJ. After last night, and the way he was with me this morning at breakfast, I have thought of nothing but him.

“I’m nervous. Thanks for coming with me,” I say as nerves strum up my chest. I have my plans in motion, and my father is likely to start smelling a rat soon, if he hasn’t already, as people in the business will talk. George and I have had conversations with other board members, all of whom are supportive of having me as the new CEO of Van Cleef Corp. Many say we need a change of leadership. Some haven’t been happy with my father and his decisions in a while, and all seemed to think that I didn’t want the CEO position so they have never raised it with me before. It became clear after the first few conversations that my father has been spinning his own narrative, portraying me as a young, flippant woman who just wants to shop. It was made even easier lately with the images that Society News have been running of me getting thrown out of a nightclub and then on the back of AJ’s bike.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand who is working with them. It is heartbreaking to know my own father will offer me up for gossip to get what he wants. To tarnish my name, position me as a spoiled little rich girl who still does stupid, immature things. I shouldn’t be surprised, though, since he is the one trying to marry me off. I wish I had seen it all earlier. I knew he was money hungry, but I never thought it would come at the expense of me and my well-being.

I still need to get a few more board members on my side. Those I haven’t spoken to yet are all good friends with my father. Men who he himself admitted to the board and who are all here at this afternoon garden party today. Plus, there is one independent. Someone who remains anonymous, who my mother put in place, who votes remotely and never shows his face. George and I have no idea who that is. We also assume my father doesn’t either. This man gets the board notes, dials into board meetings remotely but never speaks, and votes like every other member. We all assume he is some retiree living in Florida or Hawaii, an old friend of perhaps my grandmother’s even, but as per my mother’s orders, he remains anonymous.

“So we are here to get you in front of these other board members, but what exactly is this event for?” Chloe asks as we step inside my family mansion, seeing waiters and staff running around.

“One of his afternoon garden party events. He does these a few times a year. It gives Abigail something to do, I guess,” I tell her as I look around.

“There are a lot of old men…” Chloe murmurs as we step out on the back patio, and I see mostly middle-aged men milling around, talking. The kind who are overweight and balding, many with cigars.

“It’s a man's world… didn’t you know?” I say sarcastically. I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back. I am usually pretty confident; in law, you have to be, but my father always throws a cloak of insecurity over me and I hate it. I wore a power suit today. White, so it is feminine and in tune with the garden party theme, but it’s a structured jacket and tailored trousers. I am here on business only, not here to drink and giggle with the few ladies who have perched themselves at the tables nearby.

“Miss Valerie. Champagne?” Dennis, my father’s butler, asks from beside me and my smile is instant.

“Hey, Dennis. How are you?” I ask, declining the champagne as does Chloe.

“I’m well. Your father, on the other hand…” he murmurs to me under his breath.

“Anything I should know before I walk into the lion's den?” I ask. We both know what my father is like. We have always tried to warn each other over the years whenever my father is in a mood.

“Only that Mr. William Schmidt is here. Don’t look now, but he is talking to your father over near the lemon tree behind your left shoulder.”

I swallow and keep my face and eyes straight ahead. I should have assumed that Mr. Schmidt would be here, but these things are usually all business, and aside from me, Van Cleef Corp has no business with Mr. Schmidt. Oil is not something we have ever, or will ever, be investing in.

“Thanks, Dennis,” I tell him, grateful, and he nods to Chloe and me before walking away.

“I’ve always liked Dennis,” Chloe says, sipping some water.

“Same. Okay, let’s walk in. Game faces on.” I put my fake smile in place. I wish for a moment that George was here, but he, along with some of the other board members who dislike my father, never come to these things. They stick to their board requirements and never socialize with him. I am not sure why I didn’t think about it before. Now I notice so many red flags with my father’s leadership, it is startling.

“Hi, Valerie. How are you, dear?” An older woman approaches as I step through the crowd, and I stop and talk with her for a few moments, Chloe doing the same. Many of the ladies here are fans of Chloe's jewelry line, which is why I thought bringing her was a good idea. She is chatting with another older lady to the side, when I see my father making a beeline for me. I smile and end the conversation I am having before taking a few steps in his direction. I take a deep breath to prepare.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he whisper-yells at me, and I tense. “This is a garden party, Valerie. I thought you, of all people, would know how to dress for the occasion.”

“Hi to you too, Father,” I say, my voice cold. He looks at me with narrowed eyes, sensing my change in demeanor.

“Don’t play games with me. This is your proposal and you come dressed like that?” His voice rises a little, and people nearby look at us. He notices and clears his throat, rolling his shoulders, trying to bring his anger under control. Meanwhile, I am reeling. Proposal?

“William Schmidt is here, and he is going to propose. An article is written for Society News that outlines that the two of you have been spending time together out of the public eye and how smitten you are with him. You will smile and accept his proposal with grace,” my father warns. Tears threaten to sting my eyes but in anger, not in fear. This is not what I want. This is not what I expected. But this is absolutely not happening. I look at Chloe, who is watching me with concern, then I spot Dennis over on the side, also watching me. Everyone else is laughing and chatting, oblivious to the conversation we are having. I swallow and think of AJ calling me sassy and stubborn and how he thinks I am capable of getting what I want, and I look my father dead in the eye.

“And if I don’t?” I ask him, and he looks shocked for a moment. That thought obviously never entered his mind.

“It isn’t a question, Valerie.”

“It is, actually. He will bow down to me. He will get on his knee at my feet. He will ask me a question.” I school my father sarcastically, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Don’t test me,” he growls, his teeth gnashing together, and I bite my tongue. Any nerves I had now all but left and only pure anger has replaced them.

“Don’t treat me like a child. I will not be accepting any proposal. I will not be marrying Mr. Schmidt,” I grit out to him, and his neck starts to go red like he is about to blow a fuse.

“It is what is expected,” he grits out.

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