Page 12 of Seductive Hearts

There he was, sitting in his study, expecting me, and on a Sunday at holy fuck o’clock. Mom was obviously still asleep.

It was a damn good thing I set my alarm earlier than necessary because when I woke, there was a glaring text from Dad demanding my presence before I left for the Hamptons. Not only had he demanded my presence, but he also knew my schedule.

He was keeping tabs on me like I was still a fucking kid, and it pissed me off to no end.

Dad’s smug smile widened as he saw me approaching. “Son. Nice to see you at this hour.”

“Wish I could say the same,” I muttered, dragging my feet into his office and refusing to sit down.

He slid a thick file across his desk, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Everything is in here to hit the ground running with the store. The four-week schedule, plans and suppliers, plus other ancillary details.”

I took it, staring down at him, confused. “You gave those details the other day?”

“Did I now?”

We stared at one another long enough for me to realize the arrogant son-of-a-bitch was testing me.

“If you would have done your homework inside of hand-holding your cock, you would have realized I only gave you the preliminary plans, not the contractor schematics and project plan. You haven’t even checked the documents I gave you previously, have you?”

Rage bubbled inside my chest. This was a test. He was testing me all along. He didn’t trust me, yet he was forcing me into this shit-storm of a project anyway. “So you decided to set me up to fail anyway?” I pushed out through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want you fucking this up for the Goldsmiths. Ari and I are, of course, across this store opening.”

“Except the difference is, Ari trusts his daughter implicitly and is proud of her.”

All at once, his face hardened, and I knew I was in for it. But fuck it. I wanted no part of any of this, even if working with Rose Goldsmith was a trip down memory lane. It wasn’t her brains I was thinking about as I stood in front of my father, doing my best not to react one way or another.

It was her face. Her lithe, firm body.

She wouldn’t be able to avoid me this time. It would be the silver lining to this whole fuckup of a situation.

Ever since we had that kiss the night of my eighteenth birthday, she’d existed in the what-if section of my memory. But dammit, revisiting the tempting Rose meant following orders, which was something I didn’t do. Stubbornness had always been one of my strongest qualities, and the idea of letting my father know I was powerless in all of this left me grinding my teeth while heat flared in my chest.

“Tell me then, what was the point of the time you spent working for the company during your school breaks and after you graduated if you don’t do a damn thing with that knowledge? Don’t tell me it was all a means of making me happy.”

It was a means of getting him off my back, whatever he needed to tell himself. “I’m not a good fit for the business. You told me yourself,” I reminded him. That diatribe was burned into my memory, along with another few epic meltdowns following my worst behavior. The sailboat I sank, the expulsions, the disaster that was my twenty-first-birthday weekend. Not that the damage to the cabin was entirely my fault. I couldn’t exactly keep track of all my guests at all times. Dad’s voice was shot for three days after that one.

He sighed dramatically. “When are you ever going to grow out of the habit of misquoting me? I told you your lack of work ethic and allergy to responsibility wouldn’t get you far anywhere you chose to go, my company included. And that’s the truth, isn’t it? Because I haven’t seen you try to make a damn thing of yourself in all of your twenty-eight years.”

I could recite all of this without hardly trying. His favorite monologue was all about how he’d fought, scraped, and clawed his way to where he currently sat in a lavish penthouse surrounded by his pricey toys. It was boring as fuck. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said with a shrug once he’d finished reminding me how old I was. “We’re not the same.”

“No shit.”

I walked out, balling my fists at my sides. His snide laughter followed me down the hall, leaving me clenching my fists and jamming them into my pockets rather than picking up the closest item and throwing it.

My mother was in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. At the sound of my approach, she set down the kettle and turned her full attention my way. How many times had she faced me that way in the moments after a fight with Dad? Anxious, practically folding her hands like she was praying to hear something good. “Morning, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you here at this hour,” she whispered.

“I didn’t have to come this morning, Mom.” I kissed her cheek then running a hand through my dark hair, I stared down the hall toward the patch of light streaming from the study. “Where the hell does he get the nerve? Testing me like this?”

Confusion swept her bare face before a gentle smile replaced it. “Whatever your father does, he does it because he loves you and wants what’s best for you, Colton.”

“Yeah, like cutting me off? He said that the other day, you know…”

“He would never cut you off. Don’t exaggerate.” That was one thing about Mom. She gave me a lot of leeway, but there were some things she wouldn’t let me get away with.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “He wants to turn me into a regular person, the way he grew up. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s life.” She reached up to pat my cheek and brought me comfort, at least for a moment or two. “And there are worse things in the world than having to work. It’s funny. I was just as stubborn as you are but in the opposite way.”

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