Page 1 of My Enemy, My Obsession

Chapter One

Sofia

“What do you think?”I ask, shutting down the slideshow and waiting for my father’s reaction.

We’re sitting in the conference room of the Cameron Brewery, his growing beer company, and I’ve just finished showing him a test presentation for my new clothing line I’m pitching to Moore’s, the biggest department store in the country, tomorrow morning. It would be a big step to have my brand in their stores rather than just my one little shop.

He grabs the remote and displays a photo of me in one of my creations. “You look beautiful, honey.”

“Says my father.” I laugh. “It feels weird making myself a model, but I can’t afford anyone else yet.”

“This needs to be all about you anyway. They need to see you and your designs, and not have things muddied up by other faces.”

My father is always all about the positive spin, but as I study the image he’s displayed for us, I’m pleased to realize that I’m not drawn to me in the picture at all. I don’t notice my make-up or my long blonde hair draped around my shoulders. I am one hundredpercent focused on the ankle-length pink gown that is a creation plucked right out of my mind, quite literally. The question is, will my designs and presentation be good enough to take me to the next level in my career?

“It’s better than good enough,” my father says, almost as if he read my mind. He appears over my shoulder, offering me a loving smile. “Not only are you a talented designer, you’ve put in the hard work to get your name out there, which is why you’ve been invited to do this presentation.”

“Well, that was mostly persistence, I think,” I say. “I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Your mom would be proud, honey, and honored that you named your store and your brand after her. She really would. The Zoey brand is going places, honey.”

My heart squeezes with the mention of the woman we both loved and adored. I’m still just as angry as I was two years ago that a drunk driver could steal her from us and end up on probation. “I just hate that she never got to see your dream of this place come to life. I also hate that you’re still alone five years later.”

He’s forty-nine and good-looking, with ambition and charm to boot. A real woman magnet. He literally launched his own brand of beer the year after my mother died, which I think had a lot to do with his need to have something other than grief in his life.

“I’m dating here and there,” he says. “That’s a big step for me.” His cellphone buzzes with a text, and his expression tightens, his lips forming a flat line, a soft curl sliding through them. He pants out a breath and sets his phone down. “What time is the meeting tomorrow?”

“Nine. What’s wrong?”

“A work thing. That’s all.”

Which I might believe if he was looking at me. “What is it, Dad?”

He sighs and presses his hands to his thighs. “Expanding takes cash. When we started being picked up in locations outside Denver, the demand was a boom. I got into a little debt keeping up the pace. I wasin talks with Ethan Dalton from Dalton Liquors, which would have made them limited partners. I’m telling you, honey, be careful what you promise. Big orders take big cash, and you have to float that cash for a good, long while.”

“So, it fell through?”

“Yeah. Ethan’s an arrogant prick. It’s for the best. I don’t want to be in business with an ass like that man.”

“Dad, is the company in trouble?”

“Dalton isn’t the only company we are talking with. They were just the one I felt brought the most value to our brand. You, little one, need to go relax. Tomorrow’s a big day. You got this.” He stands, grabs my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Call me after, and we’ll celebrate.”

He didn’t answer my question.

He’s in trouble, and the only way I can help is to get my clothing line on a big retailer’s shelves tomorrow. Then I can take a loan, too. I can help him.

Chapter Two

My meeting the nextmorning isn’t the big presentation I expected. It’s just coffee and conversation with two Moore’s Department Store executives that concludes in what I can only call indecision. I don’t leave with a solid yes to my designs becoming part of their next season line-up, but I don’t leave with nothing, either. I’m offered an invitation to a fashion show in Hawaii at a resort hotel, all expenses paid, where I’m to analyze the fashion trends Moore’s has glommed onto this season and come up with a full plan for next season.

That night, while cozied up to a fire with hot cocoa in hand, I chat out my mix of excitement and frustration with my father by phone. “What if I spend all my time designing again and come up with nothing?”

“This is an open door, which is more than 99% of the aspiring designers out there ever manage. It’s also a life experience.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” he says. “When do you leave?”

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