Page 45 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Cordelia, listen,” I say gently, though my hands are strangling the steering wheel.

I want to smash her every doubt to dust, to tell my sister that she’s so much smarter than she or anyone else in our family gives her credit for, and that she certainly doesn’t need to marry for money at nineteen, but I focus on the bottom line.

“Dad’s not taking anything from you. I’m handling it.”

“You are?” She sniffs again.

“Yes. I’ve got you.”

It’s been a personal rule I’ve upheld since Cordelia was born. I’d been ten and beginning to understand some of the seedy underworkings of my father’s world, though I didn’t have the strength to rebel against them. My live-in nanny, Magda, liked to make phone calls to her sister within earshot, divulging everything.

My father largely ignored Cordelia, and therefore, my older brother, Brody, followed suit. In my father’s misogynistic mind, a woman wasn’t fit to follow in the family business, and therefore, Cordelia never received the same rigorous education that Brody and I did. My father groomed his sons to join him in running one of the largest luxury hotel companies in the world, our grandfather’s company—Otto Hotels.

“How?” she asks, her voice still shrill but her breathing a bit calmer.

The question pulls me back to a time I don’t like to revisit. It’d been late spring, and I’d been days away from finishing my MBA at Yale when I discovered that first contract—the one my fiancée, Katelyn, had with my father. After confronting Katelyn, I took the family jet to the historic Otto Hotel in Virginia Beachto brood, residing in the penthouse suite and subsisting on sea air and gin and tonics. It was a complete shock when my father showed up five days later.

“Enough.” Dad scowls at the wet pool towel on the ornate rug before stepping over it. “This is enough.”

I ignore him, taking my mid-morning cocktail out on the sunny terrace and plopping in a lounge chair.

My father shocks me by following. “You want to throw a tantrum. Fine. You can rage all you want…after you complete finals next week. Finish out the school year, and I’ll send you wherever you want in the world. There are beaches much nicer than this one.” He grimaces at the shoreline. “You’ll have everything at your disposal—cars, yachts, women. I’ll give you the summer to get this out of your system before coming to work with me.”

I spill half of my drink on my bare chest when I attempt a strong swig, still not speaking.

“Finnegan.” My father softens his tone as he perches his Tom Ford suit on the edge of my chaise. “Marriage has been a business contract for generations. Men in powerful positions—men like us—don’t marry for love. I’d only put Katelyn in your path because you’d been so determined to find someone. I blame that nanny of yours, filling your head with fairytale nonsense.”

My eyes squeeze shut, making the world spin. That was the hardest part, knowing the whole thing had been orchestrated from the start. I’d been overcome with grief at Magda’s passing two years earlier. Cordelia and I had been waiting in line to pay our respects when I was bumped from behind by a stunning blonde with blue eyes shining with tears. We made small talk as we moved up the aisle, discovering that Magda had been Katelyn’s younger sister’s nanny after she’d been mine. It’d been a macabre meet-cute, but I’d fallen for hershortly thereafter when Katelyn had showed up in my classes, also starting her MBA to work for her father’s high-end grocery franchise.

“This isn’t worth throwing your future away.” He stands, brushing off his pants. “I’ll pull some strings and get you an extension. Pickle yourself in gin for another week then get on a plane.”

I’ve consumed enough gin that the ripping sensation in my chest shouldn’t be this intense. I shouldn’t be in this much pain. I shouldn’t be this blindsided to find out that nothing in my life is true, that no one is honest.

“No.” I fix my gaze on the ocean waves, feeling my word detonate like a bomb. “I’m done.”

“You’re an Otto. You don’t get to be done.”

I tilt my chin up, meeting my father’s gaze. “Then maybe I don’t want to be an Otto.”

“Because…” I clear my throat. “Because I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Cor. Not ever. You know that.”

Going from being a billionaire’s son to having nothing with a signature had been a rude awakening. Cordelia—not knowing the full extent of the rift between my father and I—smuggled me cash until I got the hang of providing for myself. Her contacting me had been forbidden, but my sister is more resourceful than she gives herself credit for. Even now, Cordelia sends me perfectly tailored designer clothes every season, claiming they’re for a guy friend of hers.

The problem is that I’d been stupid—and still a little drunk—when I’d signed the iron-clad contract with my father to walk away from the family. Not because of my choice—that I have yet to regret—but because I’d made the cardinal sin of neglecting to read the fine print. A few months after enrolling in my online library science degree, I used Cordelia’s smuggled monthly deposit to pay a lawyer to comb the contract.

And, of course, my father had put in a caveat. I must achieve the highest position in my chosen field by my thirtieth birthday or return to work for my father. Disregarding this contract stipulation would cost Cordelia her trust.

I left that meeting with a renewed hatred for my father and sense of purpose. After that, I clawed my way through every conference, extra certification, continuing education courses, joined every possible professional organization, and networked my backside off. Becoming the person overseeing the operation and strategic direction of a library system that serves half a million patrons in five short years is unheard of in library and information sciences advancement. But if I don’t become the library director by my birthday next summer, Dad wins, and my life is his to rule again.

There is no scenario in which Cordelia loses.

“But how, Finn?”

An exhausted sigh leaves my mouth, and I decide it’s time to explain everything, even if it means breaking the NDA.

My sister calls my father a few choice adjectives once I’m finished. “I always thought you changed your name to get back at Dad.”

“He wanted everyone close to the family to think that.”

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