Page 6 of A Smooth Operator

I swiveled on my office chair. "You seemed pretty upset, calling me a whore and your father an adulterer. I thought it best for you to talk to your father and clear things up." I dare you, asshole.

"Give me a straight answer, Poopy. Are you fuckin' my father?"

The pain that ripped through the inside of my body almost felled me. I shut my eyes. He didn't need to know how much that hurt. Dallas was the one person in the world who thought I was better than trailer trash.

It took effort to control the bile rising inside me because I desperately wanted to throw up my lunch, which had been a measly salad. Fat Poopy Pants Echo was always on a diet.

I opened my eyes and looked at him sternly. "No, Remi. I'm not fuckin' your father."

He nodded. "Well, let's keep it that way. Alright?"

I swallowed. A part of me wanted to stand up and kick him out. But that wasn't who I was. My inner bitch was all piss and vinegar, but I wasn't the confrontational type in the real world. I spent my life hiding, blending into backgrounds. I didn't have the balls to take on someone like Remi.

"Is there anything else?" I started to tap on my keyboard, telling him this conversation was over.

He didn't move.

I didn't look at him either. "If you don't mind, I have a meeting with our China office in thirty minutes that I need to get ready for."

He huffed out of my office.

Once I knew he was gone. I closed the door and sank to the floor, leaning against it. I took deep breaths, trying to prevent the panic attack before it came. I'd always suffered from anxiety—but then show me one person who grew up poor who wasn't anxious about everything. Everything was a battle from Will I have food to Will I be safe. Survival was based on how tough you were, how good you were at taking care of yourself, and how smart you were at dodging the bad.

The panic attacks became substantial when I was living with Aunt Fern. She hadn't been more physically abusive than Mama—and honestly, I didn't care about getting beaten or slapped around—all that came with the territory. Aunt Fern was cruel, and she said things that cut me to the bone. She constantly reminded me that I was a whore's daughter just like Remi's mama; certain that I'd end up like my mother.

She accused me of flirting with a man, boy, or male child if I so as much as talked to the opposite sex.

I came to stay with Aunt Fern when I was eleven and left when I was eighteen. Those were the seven longest years of my life—and considering I grew up with a junkie mother, that was saying something.

Once I finished high school, I hadn't been able to get the hell out fast enough.

Dallas Drake had helped me. He'd written one of my recommendation letters. He'd given me an internship at his company, GeneVerse Biotech. He had kept in touch with me at Vanderbilt, and when he'd seen me speak at a conference, he'd told me that there would be a job waiting for me at GeneVerse.

He'd even come for my PhD defense—and that was when he'd given me the watch. I'd been so proud of it. It was the first present I had ever received—no one had ever given me anything for nothing. Sure, the Drakes handed out random stocking stuffers during Christmas, usually a box of chocolates that Aunt Fern didn't let me eat because I was already fat. You try being thin when you were subsisting on barely any money, and your only recourse from hunger was KFC! Those chicken nuggets had gotten me through so much, yet if I never ate them again, it would be too soon.

Remi reducing that one gift to a payment for sexual services was horrifying. I felt small and beaten, and so I sat, hugging my knees, hoping for the storm to pass so I could stand up on steady legs and fight to survive again.

Chapter 3

Remi

Ifelt like I kicked a puppy. She hid it well, but I saw the hurt when I didn't back down and told her not to fuck my father, ever. Why did I say that? I was an asshole.

"Remi?"

I winced when I heard my father as I was walking down the hall from Echo's lab. "Dad."

"Son. You came to see me?" My father was in his late fifties and had a full head of hair, a great sense of humor, a fit body, and more money than any of us could ever spend. The Drake family money itself would have been enough, but then he'd gone and made a whole lot more with GeneVerse.

He and my mother had been married for nearly three decades. For the past couple of years, it was obvious something was off between them. I wondered if my father was having an affair. Finding out he’d given Echo a Rolex—where else was my mind supposed to go?

"Not really. Echo left her watch at Paint the Town Red over the weekend when she came for Lani's party. I was just returning it."

Dad put his arm around me. "The Rolex?"

I stiffened. "Yeah."

"Damn, must've been some party because I know she takes care of it like her life depends on it."

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