Page 23 of Don't Call Me Daddy
I massage my aching temples and sigh. “My mom’s throwing this party tomorrow?—”
“Bartholomew’s twenty-first birthday party,” she clarifies.
“Yes, that. And I mentioned to Roman that I’d secretly been seeing someone and it was pretty serious. Then, he asked me on the spot what her name was, and yours was the first name to pop in my head.” I point at my still-swollen eye. “Probably because this was still fresh. Anyway, that’s how it happened. I never in a million years dreamed I’d see you again, much less that you’d drive me to the hospital and still be waiting hours later. Why were you still here again?” The last part comes out a little more accusatory than I intended.
She adjusts her arms around herself a little tighter. “Don’t you dare act like I’m the creepy one in this scenario! I didn’t have anywhere else to be, so I thought I’d wait to make sure you were okay. Then, I saw your mom holding my sister’s favorite book—it’s not a book you see every day—and I felt like I needed to tell her—never mind why—but we got to talking, and I introduced myself, and suddenly, it was like they all knew me. Like they were expecting me …”
“I’m really sorry about that. Like I said, it wasn’t the smartest thing on my end, but how was I supposed to know that I’d run into you again? I thought you said you were just passing through?”
She shrugs. “Well, maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t try to stalk me. It’s not exactly smart to tell some grumpy stranger all your plans just because he’s cute and helps you.”
The wordcutehangs in the air between us, and I really wish my heart didn’t skip a beat from her admitting that, but I try to ignore it.
I pick at the thin, scratchy blanket in my lap. “Listen, I understand if you’re freaked out by everything. And I understand if you want to run out of here and never speak to me again … but at the risk of already sounding insane … I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to keep this going with me for a little while longer?”
She sucks in a small breath, and just when I think she’s about to call me a psycho, proving all her suspicions right, she asks, “What do you have in mind?”
I perk up at the question, feeling relieved that she isn’t running for the hills. “I, uh … I don’t really know. I haven’t given it much thought, but do you think you could stick around until the Phantom Festival at the end of the summer? That’s when my dad will officially step down as CEO. I think this might be the only shot I have at changing his mind and convincing him I should be the one leading the company.”
“So, what is that, thirty days?”
“Yeah, unless you have somewhere to get back to?” I can’t help but ask, feeling like I need to know everything there is to know about what’s she’s doing here and why. But I know it’s not my business.
Rather than answering my question, she responds with one of her own. “So, you think if you have a fake fiancée, your dad will make you CEO?”
“No, maybe not. It’s dumb, but I have this thing about letting people down. It started out as an innocent lie to dodge another setup attempt from my mother, but after seeing their faces thisevening, how happy they were to meet you … I don’t want to crush them. And selfishly, I know I could kiss any hope of my dad reconsidering goodbye.”
“So, youdowant him to change his mind?”
“Well, yes.” I flatten my lips. “But that’s just because I want what’s best for the company, and right now, I believe that’s me.”
She looks down, biting her lip. “I don’t know, Leo. Your family is so nice. I don’t know if I could lie to them?—”
“I just need your help convincing my dad that I’m capable of handling more responsibility, that I’m not as stressed out as I seem to be. That’s all I’m asking.”
“This job must be a really big deal if you’re willing to lie to your family because of it. So, what is it anyway? Anything I’ve heard of?”
I tell her all about our brand, how my dad founded the company with the mission to change the world, starting with our patented one-hundred percent biodegradable plastic, and things quickly grew from there. But it doesn’t take much explaining for her to catch on.
“Wait. You’re Leo Kingsley? Of Kingsley Industries? As in the billionaire family who owns this town?”
“Yes … did you not know that? I thought that’s why you stuck around.”
“How would I have known that? Everyone knew you by your first name when we got here. Are you telling me that I’ve been shooting the shit with a roomful of billionaires for the last half hour?”
I let out a laugh. “Yes. Technically.”
“Huh. No wonder you just handed over five hundred dollars like it was nothing. Do you use dollar bills as toilet paper? I’ve always wondered …”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” I quirk a brow.
She holds up her hands defensively. “You’re right; it wouldn’t be very environmentally friendly. Bidet?”
I sigh and roll my eyes. Clearly, she’s not going to drop this. “Yes. I have a bidet in every bathroom. Now, can we please get back on track here?”
“You really seem to care about this stuff, don’t you?”
“It’s all I care about.”
