Page 11 of Drilling Deep

I step back and tip my head toward the office, indicating that we should get back to work. Cora nods, then shocks the ever-living hell out of me by taking my hand. She weaves our fingers together, and I freeze, not knowing how to respond.

Cora tries to pull her hand away, but I squeeze her fingers, not letting her escape. Now that she’s touching me, I never want her to stop.

I’m so fucked.

6

CORA

My phone rings as I step out of the shower, and I quickly dry off and wrap a towel around my hair before slipping on my pajama shorts and a tank top. Only one person calls me, and it’s never a fun conversation. Still, I know if I don’t answer my dad’s call, he’ll keep trying until I do.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, plopping down on the bed. The mattress is stiff, and I can feel the cold metal mattress frame through the thin material and non-existent padding. Does Titan know about memory foam mattresses? They’re going to blow his mind.

“How’s the progress after week one?” he asks, jumping right in as usual. Nohow have you been?OrI’ve missed you around the house.If he said either of those things, I might think he had a stroke.

“It’s coming along. We’re digitizing the files and I think the software is going to help keep things organized moving forward. It’s very intuitive as a user interface–”

“Yes, yes, I don’t need the details. You know I don’t understand all the techy stuff.”

My shoulders drop as he knocks all the wind out of my sails. I don’t know why I keep getting my hopes up that he’ll find my degree interesting or at least care enough to indulge me in a few nerdy questions.

“What is your progress on the time cards? That backlog needs clearing up. And those unsightly boxes. A fire hazard, I’m sure.”

“That’s what I was saying about digitizing those files so we won’t need to store them in boxes.”

“I don’t need your excuses.”

“It’s not an ex–”

“I trust you’re behaving yourself. Not causing any waves?”

“None aside from those that rock the boat,” I joke. I’m met with silence on the other end of the phone. “Everything is going fine,” I assure him. “How much trouble can I get into on a ship?”

“I’d rather not find out. You can’t afford not to have this on your resume, Cora. If you want a shot at being a personal assistant to the CEO of a Silicon Valley start-up, you’ll need this kind of experience.”

“And if I don’t want that?”

“We’ve talked about this before. I let you get your little degree, and that’s all well and good. Respectable people go to college. But now you need a position that looks good for the family legacy.”

“Smart, independent women aren’t part of the family legacy, then?” I mumble.

“What’s that?” he asks, his tone sharp.

“Nothing,” I sigh. “You already know my feelings about being an assistant or a secretary or a receptionist. They are fine jobs for people who like that and are good at it. But that’s not what I want. I want–”

“While you’re living under my roof, what you want is irrelevant,” he growls.

I swallow thickly, nodding, even though I know he can’t see me.

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he says after a beat of silence. “I’ve got to go. Talk to you next week.” With that, my father hangs up.

I’m used to these conversations, but I’d be lying if I said they still didn’t sting. I’ve long since given up on having a close relationship with my dad, but we’re hardly even surface-level acquaintances most days. We live in the same house, different wings, but still. I hardly know the man, and he makes zero effort to get to know me as an adult.

Tossing my phone aside, I go back to the bathroom and grab my hairbrush, running it through my long hair. I’ve gotten into a bit of a routine these last seven days. Mornings are spent with Titan in his office, going over payroll software and organization apps or taking turns digitizing as many files as possible in ten minutes. So far, I’m the reigning champion at twelve files. Titan said I cheated, but he was standing there, watching me the whole time. I think he’s just a sore loser.

We break for lunch around noon, then Titan checks in on the rig and helps out wherever he’s needed. I continue working through the backlog of papers to scan or transfer until my eyes are crossed and I can’t stand it anymore. And then I keep going until it’s time for dinner.

It’s not just Titan who fell behind on paperwork. He told me he was promoted last year, but most of the papers I sorted through this afternoon were from at least three years ago. Either way, it seems he’s getting blamed for all of it, which sucks.

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