Page 10 of Sensual Games

“I have good news for you.” Dad’s broad smile did nothing to ease the dread that had settled in my bones the second I received his call demanding I come down for a last-minute meeting. How many times had he called me down to his office when there was good news to share? Never. That was how many.

“I can hardly wait to hear it.” I didn’t bother hiding my disinterest as I flopped into a chair before scrubbing my hands over my face, groaning at the way my head pounded. Of all mornings for him to pull his shit, he would choose the morning after a friend from college threw a divorce party. We had closed down the bar, then the after-hours club we’d moved on to.

Once I lowered my hands, I found Dad scowling. “If you’re feeling under the weather, you should’ve told me so.”

“I told you I wasn’t feeling up to this, and you refused to listen.” I barely stifled a yawn for the sake of ending the argument and getting this over with. “I had a long night. Don’t take it personally.”

“At your age, your long nights should be the result of burning the midnight oil. Building something for yourself.”

To think, I dragged my ass out of bed for this, being forced to listen to the same hypocritical song I’d heard so many times. “Can we not do that today? I don’t want to hear it. Why did you need me to come in?”

The second his eyes narrowed, I would’ve sworn a noose tightened around my neck. “Since you seem disinterested in working toward something of your own, I’m naming you Vice-President of our growing digital division now that we’re absorbing the employees from Jones Media.”

And I thought I felt like hell before. A fist closed around my suddenly icy stomach and squeezed until cold sweat coated the back of my neck. “You’re what?” I managed to choke out.

He sighed like the very act of explaining himself was beneath him. “You majored in communications and minored in business administration, yet I haven’t seen you do a thing with your education in the past three years. I’m giving you the chance to prove all that tuition money wasn’t wasted.”

Like he couldn’t afford it. More hypocrisy. My blood started to boil, and I gritted my teeth to contain myself. No wonder he didn’t want to have this conversation somewhere private rather than here at the office. The asshole probably wanted witnesses.

How the fuck was I supposed to know how to run anything? “I don’t want this,” I warned. When was he going to laugh and tell me this was a prank? Why wasn’t he laughing? Sitting behind a desk, wearing a suit, playing nice for the sake of politics, talk about a fucking nightmare. I wanted nothing to do with it.

And he fucking knew that. Hell, I had never made it a secret.

“Remind me when I asked if you want it or not.” He pushed the chair away from the desk and stood, glaring at me with the morning sun streaming in behind him. “You’re taking this position, and you’re going to make something out of yourself. One day, I won’t be here to run things. It’s well past time for you to claim your birthright and learn what it will take to continue the family legacy.”

Miles Young was the newest member of our group. He had come to town to take down his wicked stepfather, Magnus Miller, and was surprised to find the man wasn’t so wicked after all.

Having not been raised around the rest of us, meaning he didn’t know Dad as well as the others, he could maintain a more positive outlook. “Your dad wants to do what’s best for the entire company. And the girl probably wants to make her coworkers feel more comfortable so everybody can work together,” he pointed out. “Culture shock is a real thing.”

“You seem to have blended in pretty well here in the States,” Noah Goldsmith reminded him, referring back to Miles’ life in London before moving out here.

“Yeah, but this was hardly my first trip overseas. I came out here for business many times prior to making the final move. I was a fish out of water during those early visits. It was rather pathetic.” He snickered, raising his glass. “Of course, I worked my ass off to pretend I felt comfortable.”

“Let the girl have her retreat.” Evan Anderson could afford to be dismissive. He had always known what he wanted to do with his future—one of the most driven people I’ve ever met. Valentina made a good match when I looked at it that way. She was just as driven and determined to do exactly what she wanted with her life. Neither of them had ever had to fight to be taken seriously after years of screwing around.

“Sure, she gets her retreat,” I grumbled. “Next thing I know, she’s got my job.”

Colton grunted as if he understood. “So that’s what’s really getting to you? You have to know you’re not in any actual jeopardy.” He nudged me when I wouldn’t look his way, too busy watching the bartender pour me another whiskey. “You know that, right?”

“I didn’t even think you wanted the job,” Evan pointed out. “You always said the last thing you wanted was to end up sitting behind a desk like your dad does.”

“Does that mean sitting back and letting her walk all over me? She’s not going to steal this position,” I vowed, taking a gulp of fresh whiskey and relishing the burning sensation spreading through my chest.

Something about the looks they shared told me I wasn’t getting through. “What?” I demanded, scowling at them.

“Has she told you she wants your job?” Colton asked, leaning forward so I could see him past the bodies of our friends as we sat in a row along the polished bar.

“Oh, right,” I replied, scoffing while the rest of them snickered. “That’s something that happens. As if she would walk up to me and announce it.”

“I guess I’m asking because you seem so damn sure that’s what she’s in this for.” He lifted a shoulder while the others nodded.

“You don’t think it’s a little too much of a coincidence? We hooked up at the wedding. Then my company purchased hers.”

“All of a sudden, it’s his company,” Evan joked. His laughter was cut short by my glare. “Sorry. Trying to keep things light.”

“Nobody asked you to,” I snapped. This was all wrong. They didn’t need to put up with me acting like a fucking lunatic over this. I knew damn well I would’ve busted their balls if the positions were reversed.

But the positions were not reversed. Only I understood what it meant to doubt something I thought was a sure thing. The worst part? Deep down inside, in a place I didn’t reveal to anyone, I asked myself which sure thing I was doubtful of. My position with the company or her. Did she want me for myself after the wedding, or was it all an act?

---