Page 19 of Puck of the Irish

“Um, some guy is looking for you?” My brow furrows.

“A guy?” Who the hell would be looking for me?

“Older guy. Seems…important. And a little scary. He has one of the VIP boxes filled with a bunch of rich looking people.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Shit.

“Which box?”

“Four.” I want to roll my eyes. Of course it’s Box Four—the most expensive luxury box in the entire arena.

“Thanks,” I mutter and rush off towards the Box, beer and cotton candy forgotten for the moment. I apparently need to go see my father.

When I enter the room I see dad over in the corner, laughing with a group of men with a glass of scotch in his hand. I walk over, trying to keep my temper in check. He has every right to be here, I remind myself, but it seems like an attack of some sort, or like he’s checking up on me or something. I don’t know. Maybe I’m paranoid and he just wanted to show some clients a good time. He has season tickets to the Wolves and the Rattlers, after all, so it isn’t like hanging out at sporting events is strange for him, exactly, but he’s never really been that big into hockey. It was one of the draws of this job—no real chance of running into him in the course of business, as it were.

He sees me approach and nods, telling the others to give him a moment, and comes over.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, a little more peevish than I intend.

“Well that’s a lovely way to greet your father,” he muses, but he smirks. He’s clearly having a good time and isn’t going to let my bad attitude get in the way.

“Sorry,” I say, feeling a little bad. “Hi, dad.”

“Hi, Natalie.”

“Enjoying the game?”

He smiles. “I’d forgotten how entertaining these games could be, actually. I might just have to buy out this box permanently.” Well, that would mean a lot of money to the organization, but I can’t say that I love that idea. Having him here makes me feel uneasy.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask, glancing down at the rink to see Rizzo streaking across the ice.Go, go, go.I pull my gaze back to dad, waiting expectantly.

“I was here, so I figured I’d say hello, that’s all.”

I arch a brow. “That’s all?”

“I may also have some news.”

“There it is. Spill whatever it is you want to say dad, I need to get back to my friends.”

“Lysander is moving to London to start up our international branch.”

I stare at him blankly. “Uhh, tell him I said congratulations? And Pip Pip Cheerio?” His lips twitch at the corners.

“You will take his position,” he says simply, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You start after the first of the year to give you time to…wind things up here. It’s already in the works.”

“In the works?” I repeat. Audacity must be half off for the holidays because what in the actual fuck?? “I don’t want Lysander’s job, dad.” Did he really call me here in the middle of the game to ask—no, he didn’t even fuckingask. Hetoldme that I’m coming back to work for him. “Why would you just assume that I would??”

“Natalie,” he sighs, clearly exasperated. The crowd goes crazy and I glance sidelong and see some Kodiaks breaking away down the ice.Shit!I turn back to dad as he continues. “This has gone on long enough.”

“Who are you to decide that?” I snap. Something is happening down on the ice, but I can’t pull my gaze away fromdad’s, now starting to burn with anger. Well, let him be angry.I’mfucking pissed.

“I’m your father,” he grits out, keeping his voice low as not to draw attention, though no one seems to really be paying us any regardless. Must be another big fight down there.

“That doesn’t mean you get to dictate my entire life!” I grit out through clenched teeth, trying desperately to keep my temper in check. “I let you for a long time, but not anymore. I don’t want to work for the company. I don’t want to just be the girl in the corner office on the sixtieth floor who only has the job because of her daddy.” He starts to interrupt, to say that I have an Ivy League education, that no one would dare think that, but we both know it’s bullshit—no matter what education and accolades I have. I’ll only ever be seen as his daughter who didn’t have to work for her position. Having a different last name is helpful, but gossip travels fast up the corporate ladder. The way people looked at me in New York once word got out, like the only thing worse than having my daddy hand me this position on a silver platter would have been sleeping my way to the top. Either way, it fucking sucked.

“I want to forge my own path in whatever place I choose. I amhappyhere! I’m doing things that matter.”

“Oh, coordinating reindeer tosses?” he says derisively, gesturing towards the flyer on the wall for the event happening after tonight’s game. With four simple words he manages to make me feel two inches tall. I stare at him, not sure what the hell I want to say back. Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off. Part of me wants to cry and ask why he can’t just be proud of me no matter what I do. Another part wants to punch him.

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