Page 45 of Daddy's Princess

Nothing can get me down after my night and morning with Oliver. It was absolutely perfect. The dreamer in me can see that being our everyday life. No matter how unrealistic the thought is, it gets me through all of Nadine’s crap without dampening my mood.

* * *

“Sugar!”Eloise’s voice cuts through the office chatter. I turn and see Oliver’s mom walking toward me with a huge smile on her face, Oliver just a couple steps behind her. I barely get to my feet before she’s got me pulled into a motherly hug. Well, I can only assume it feels motherly. My own mother isn’t a hugger, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. It leaves the same warmth in my chest that a good hug from my dad does.

“How are you, my dear?” Eloise asks but doesn’t give me time to respond before moving on. “You look fantastic. You simply must join Oliver and me for lunch.”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude.”

“Nonsense! I insist.”

Oliver is smiling in earnest as his mother steamrolls me. That’s part of her charm, though. She has a way of not taking no for an answer, and no one is immune to her ways.

“I’d be happy to,” I say with a smile.

Eloise claps her hands. “Lovely! Grab your bag, dear. I’m starving.”

Lunch isn’t in the least bit awkward. Somehow, Oliver and I manage to not make eyes at each other the whole time. Though I blush more than I ever have in my life because his mom is all about telling me how fabulous she thinks I am. She regales Oliver on how she discovered me as a nervous Freshman and now look at where I am! She talks about me as a proud parent would about their child. It makes me both happy that someone has such faith in me, and sad because I wish my own mother felt half the pride that Eloise does in my successes.

Of course, Oliver was happy to add in about how, after just a month, I’m already heading up a project. I try to argue because really the project is in the final stages and I’m just helping. Which is only half true. While the project was mostly done, most of the illustrations only required finishing, others I’ve entirely changed—after getting permission from the other illustrator that worked the original images.

With a thoroughly stroked ego and light-hearted happiness I haven’t felt, in I can’t remember how long; I head back to my workspace ready to put the finishing touches on the page I’ve spent the past day working on. I’m somewhere on Cloud Nine when I’m knocked straight back down to Earth.

“If it isn’t the boss’s little plaything,” Britney says with a sneer. “I little birdy told me the only reason you got this job is because of Mommy Titan-Rose. I didn’t realize you were fucking the son too.”

I flinch at the venom in her words. She’s just verbalized every reason I had for keeping my relationship with Oliver under wraps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got my position because I’m the best person for the job.”

“And what position is that? On your back? Or does he put you on your stomach so he can pretend he’s with a real woman?”

I knew that Britney hated me, but I didn’t realize just how much. Instead of engaging in a fight that I know will only make matters worse, I gather up my supplies and escape to the conference room.

“There you are!” Nadine’s nasally voice breaking through the peaceful silence of the conference room makes me jump. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s time to show your progress on Fairyville to the team.”

“I’m not quite done.”

She snorts. “I didn’t expect you to be finished. You really should work on your work ethic. Britney turned her project in last night. I really can’t see why Mrs. Titan-Rose was so adamant about you joining the program.”

I bite my tongue until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. As much as I want to rail at the unfairness of Nadine’s assumptions, there is no point. Britney has her completely snowed, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that other than work hard and prove that I earned my place in the program.

I’m only mildly surprised to see Oliver in the room with Jeff, Britney, Gene, and Theo. Of course, he would be involved in the final approvals for the pages. Britney goes first. Smiling her big plastic smile. She’s obviously pleased with herself, and the looks she keeps shooting my way are ugly enough to melt the paint off the walls.

“You’ve done well, Miss Chamberson,” Jeff Thompson boasts. “Don’t you think she did great work, Mr. Titan? She’s definitely got the talent to join the Titan-Rose ranks.”

I try but fail to keep my eyes from rolling. Jeff Thompson loves Britney’s work, but it’s more like he admires her plastic surgeon’s work because he speaks directly to her chest when he’s giving his praise. It’s gross.

“They aren’t bad, but there is definite room for improvement…” Oliver rattles off no fewer than twenty things that need to be cleaned up. I cringe at how critical he’s being of every minute detail. He even goes so far as to say that the original image he approved on one of the pictures was better as a rough draft than her finished product.

Ouch.

Every piece of criticism he lays out adds to the nervousness I’m feeling at showing my work. Doubts start sneaking in. I changed a lot of the pre-approved images. What if he hates the direction I took? Theo was impressed with what I did to his original sketches. He liked the changes and okayed me to do whatever I thought necessary to make the book shine.

I jump when Oliver says my name. I blink up at him in trepidation. “Miss Larson, please present your work.”

Every eye in the room is on me. Instead of feeling like six sets of eyes, it feels like a million. I have to clear my throat twice to make my voice work. I trip on my way to the front of the room and send the papers in my hands flying.

I don’t have to look to know that the person who is laughing at my embarrassment is Britney. I’m on my knees gathering up the pages, trying to put them back in order when shiny black shoes enter my line of sight. Then Oliver is kneeling in front of me, helping me pick up the pages. I try to keep my eyes lowered. Looking at him right now is a bad idea. I can feel embarrassed tears pressing on the backs of my eyes, and I’m afraid seeing him will make those tears spillover.

The temptation is too great to resist, though, and I look up. Oliver’s looking at me with steady confidence. That one look says, ‘you’ve got this’ and ‘I’ve got you.’ I take a deep breath and stand, taking my place at the head of the room.

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