Page 7 of Beneath the Hood

She scoffs. “It’s work, Dad.”

He looks around, his arms spread wide. “Thisis work, Blakely. Something tangible. Something you can build on. What you do is slave away for an algorithm just to feed your ego.”

Unease pours through my veins at her flinch.Damn, that was harsh.

James Donahue is a dick. He expects excellence at every level, and if something gets between him and what he wants, he’ll slice you quicker than a paper cut. I hate kissing ass, but I’m willing to do almost anything to make sure my dad’s dream comes to fruition, and the Donahue name has a stranglehold on the industry.

“How are things going around here?” Mr. Donahue walks around, stopping to peruse the Austin-Healey 3000 that’s due on set tomorrow.

“Great.” I nod. “Right on track.”

He smiles, stopping next to where Blakely sits on my toolbox, and for the first time, I notice the resemblance between them.

“She’s not distracting you, is she?” He turns to Blakely. “What are you even doing out here, Blakely? Karen says she’s been looking for you. Your purpose here isn’t to distract the other employees.”

Blakely’s shoulders slump, her shiny lips parting as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“She was helping,” I rush out.

I don’t know why I say it, especially when it’s a lie. Shewasdistracting me. But there’s something about the way her sparkle dimmed that tugs at my chest, making me want to buff away the look in her eyes just to see them shine. “I asked her to help me unload the new order,” I continue. “Wanted to make sure I could stay on track with the Healey.”

Mr. Donahue looks over to Blakely. “Good. You should still make sure to let Karen know where you are, so she doesn’t waste time looking.”

Blakely nods. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m gonna go see if she needs anything.” She hops down, brushing off her jeans and gazing up at her father. “Will you be home for dinner?”

He shakes his head and the remainder of her confidence deflates, longing screaming from her eyes. She blinks and it’s gone, a smile pasted on in its place. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek, then brushes by him, her dark brown hair swishing as she rushes to head back inside.

Mr. Donahue watches her walk away, his eyes turning down in the corners. “Thank you for putting her to work,” he says, finally breaking his stare down with the door.

I clear my throat, my fingers running along the chain around my neck. “It’s no problem.”

He smirks, leveling me with a knowing look. “Karen says she doesn’t do much.”

A flicker of irritation licks at my bones.Why would she say that?

Sure, Blakely doesn’t really want to be here, that’s obvious, but I haven’t seen Karen go out of her way to try, choosing to delegate her to reception to answer the phones instead. There’s only so much you can do when you’re stuck at a front desk for a business that doesn’t have customers.

“She seems to do fine with what she’s tasked with,” I say carefully. I’m not sure why I’m defending her. It would work in my favor to convince him she doesn’t belong. Maybe then he’ll move her to a different branch. Stop her from pushing herself on me when all I want is to keep her away.

“Mmm,” Mr. Donahue hums. “Well, you’ll keep an eye on her then.”

An uncomfortable feeling slinks through my insides, churning my gut. I nod slowly. “I’ll do what I can when she’s here, sir. No problem.”

He rubs his jaw as he assesses me. “That club she’s going to tonight… I want you to go with her.”

My heart drops, taking my stomach with it. “What?”

He glances at the watch on his wrist. “She insists on playing out this role of‘celebrity.’” He finger-quotes as he speaks the wordcelebrity. “One who doesn’t do anything, choosing to live off our last name and my legacy, instead of working for her reputation. This world is filled with people who will use her and toss her to the side when they’re done. People that will influence her to make bad choices. I’d much rather have someone with her that I can trust.”

I chuckle from the feeling of pure disbelief that’s flowing through me. “With all due respect, that’s not my job.”

His eyes flare. “I’m asking you tomakeit your job.”

Shit.

I don’t want to fuck this up—my chance of achieving what I’ve been working toward for years. And as much as I’d like to think that James Donahue is a man of honor and integrity, I also think he’s a man who doesn’t like to be told no by the people on his payroll.

Nausea swirls in my stomach, my mind racing to figure out a way to stay on his good side while also avoiding the torture of babysitting a nineteen-year-old socialite.

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