“C’mon, Edwards. At least think about it.”
This goddamn idiot is getting on my last nerve. The last time Zuckerman tried to close a deal, it fell through, losing millions. I’ve been one step ahead of him, and frankly, I want him out.
“I’m not repeating myself. What you’re proposing isn’t viable.”
Zuckerman shakes his head in disbelief, tapping his pen against the table, annoyed I have declined his proposal.
“Let me get this straight? You’re telling me what I’m proposing isn’t viable, yet what Romano proposes is?”
My patience is wearing thin. How dare he question my decision.
“Romano did his homework,” I emphasize, holding my head high. “Your numbers are sloppy. Do I need to remind you of what happened with the Chicago project?”
Zuckerman pinches his lips together, rising from his chair with a clenched jaw. He paces the area near the window, stopping abruptly to face me with an incredulous stare.
“So, Romano fucks your daughter, and he gets what he wants? Is that how it works?”
What did he just say to me?
His callous words begin to register. Did he just say what I think he said? My chest begins to harden. My hands clench into a fist beneath the long boardroom table. I keep my gaze on him fixed, careful not to express anything but a blank stare.
“I think you should leave this room.” I try to keep my tone controlled, refusing to show him any emotion. “The next time you want to question me or bring my family into our business discussions, you can consider yourself done.”
Zuckerman shakes his head, exiting the room while slamming the door. Alone, in the boardroom, his words repeat in my head, “Romano fucks your daughter, and he gets what he wants?”
It can’t be true. A preposterous accusation from a man pissed off because he didn’t get what he wanted. To think he could come up with such an elaborate notion as if anything could happen between Will and Amelia. For starters, there’s an age gap. Amelia dates boys her age.
Will doesn’t believe in relationships, admitting to me multiple times his distaste for settling down. They would never lie to me. I trust them both.
But then Zuckerman’s vengeful remark plays again, “Romano fucks your daughter.”
The dickhead doesn’t know what he’s saying, and on further thought, the guy is done. If he wants to accuse Will of touching my daughter, he can kiss his high-paying role goodbye.
Unsettled by our heated exchange, I leave my office with a meeting two blocks over at Will’s building. I decide to walk to try to clear my head. I’ve had my fair share of dealings with assholes, but Zuckerman is high up there for his unwarranted behavior.
Standing on the sidewalk, waiting to cross, I run my hand through my hair, willing this overwhelming feeling to rid itself. Things of late had been stressful. I’m barking orders more than I care to admit and wasting time on idiots like Zuckerman.
Amelia’s academic coordinator’s call created more stress for Charlotte and me, given that it blindsided us. According to Amelia, everything was fine. I understand she fell ill with the flu, but her coordinator is convinced Amelia is no longer focused as she was at the beginning of the school year. Given her usually straight A’s, I don’t understand how this happened.
Charlotte insists we give Amelia a week to open up to us about her struggles rather than confront her. Considering that Amelia has barely spoken to Charlotte and seemingly avoids her calls, there appears to be a more significant issue at hand. My patience with this matter is wearing thin as each day passes. I need a goddamn holiday, preferably with Charlotte minus the cockblockers otherwise known as our daughters.
Stepping into the building, I nod my head at a few people who walk by. I enter the elevator, willing my shoulders to relax before I reach the twentieth floor. My phone pings repeatedly in my pocket, but I ignore it, granting myself a moment of solitude.
The second the doors open, Will and Amelia are standing in front of me. The two of them appear to be arguing. Will is running his hands through his hair, frustrated with their argument as Amelia is breathing heavily.
But then they turn to face me—eyes wide in shock.
My eyes dart back and forth, listening to Amelia spin some story about losing her wallet. The more she rambles, the shakier her voice becomes. I flick my gaze to Will, noticing his body language stiffening before he excuses himself to leave us behind.
Why the fuck is she in the city with friends when she should be at Yale studying?
Baring my teeth, I raise my voice, questioning her failed marks and the call from her academic advisor. It becomes all the more evident as I stare into my oldest daughter’s eyes that someone else is behind this behavior of hers.
Someone is pulling her away from everything she worked hard for.
And away from her family.
Then, she raises her voice back, disrespecting me with her angered words until she basically tells me to fuck right off. The second she disappears into the elevator, Zuckerman’s words replay, “Romano fucks your daughter.”
The voices are unable to shut off, scenario after scenario playing in my head—Will’s decline in his performance of late and his head elsewhere in meetings. Before Christmas, we attended the gala, where he claimed he had an emergency, almost costing him a client.
His quick acceptance to visit LA and stay in my home.
Then there’s Amelia’s unusual behavior. The constant visits to the city, schoolwork falling behind, and the break-up with Austin, to name another thing.
Zuckerman can’t be correct.
But then, I remember their argument as the elevator pinged open. This was more than a lost wallet at hand. And then she blamed me for controlling her life, her outburst completely disrespectful and uncalled for. This isn’t the daughter I raised. This is a woman who’s consumed by a man, a man who should be off-limits, who took advantage of our family ties, used me to get close to her, and then did what?
Don’t say it. Don’t repeat what Zuckerman said.
I turn back to enter the elevator, fury springing to life when the doors close, trapping me in my personal hell. My pulse begins to race, muscles quivering, the beat of my heart loud as a drum with an urge to smash my fist against the mirror inside the confined space.
Each passing second feels like an hour. Then the door opens up to the ground floor. With sweaty palms, I yank my phone out of my pocket to call Charlotte.
“Lex,” Charlotte huffs over the receiver. “I need to step into a meeting with a client. I’ll call you back in an hour?”
I can’t speak. My chest so tight then even words are trapped, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Lex? Hello, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I bellow.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you know that Will and our daughter are an item?”
“Lex, what are you talking about? Listen, I don’t have time for your assumptions.”
My nostrils begin to flare like a wild animal staring at its prey.
“Did you know, Charlotte?”
Charlotte releases a breath. “Lex, Amelia is going through something, I’ll admit. But a relationship with Will? That’s ridiculous. He’s family.”
“Will you just listen to me, Charlotte!” I demand, anger pouring through me like molten hot lava. “They’ve both been lying to us. Amelia is falling behind in her schoolwork, spending all her time in the city, and Will is distracted at work. Every time they’ve been in a room together, there was this odd behavior, yet I passed it off as nothing.”
“So, what, Lex? That doesn’t mean anything is going on.”
“No, Charlotte,” I beg of her to listen. “You don’t understand. I just saw them.”
“Doing what?”
“They were…” I clear my throat, closing my eyes momentarily. “They were arguing. She was here, in this building. She lied to my face about why she was here, and I could see it in her eyes. Don’t you see? She’s been pushing you away because she knew we’d figure it out.”
“Lex,” her voice wavers, “She’s pushing me away because she no longer needs me. She’s an adult, now.”
“No, Charlotte. You’re wrong. She’s pushing you away because it’s easier to do that than lie to your face,” I tell her brutally.
The line goes quiet, and all but Charlotte’s heavy breathing can be heard.
“They want me inside. I don’t know what to say. I’ll call you the minute I’m out but promise me you won’t do anything stupid, please?”
“Charlotte…”
“Lex, please?” she pleads in desperation.
“I promise.”
The call ends, and I’m no closer to feeling any better after my talk with Charlotte. I need her, right now, to calm my flaring temper. As minutes pass while standing on the busy street, I head toward a bar a few blocks over, avoiding work, eager to numb the pain.
Inside the bar, I begin to drink myself into a stupor, time lost on me as I toy aimlessly with the peanuts in the bowl. There are a dozen messages on my phone and missed calls, but the only one that mattered is Charlotte’s.
Charlotte: Our daughter needs us. I’m on the next flight to JFK.
“Bartender, pour me another,” I call, then lower my head.
“Look, buddy, you’ve had a few.”
“What the fuck do you care? Do you know who I am?”
The young guy rolls his eyes, disrespecting my authority. My thoughts travel back to Will and all the times I demanded he sort Amelia out for her reckless behavior. Her underage clubbing and the countless conversations I’ve had privately with him over my concerns with her well-being. All of this was acted with trust, trust in which he broke without a single thought.
“This is the last drink.”
The final glass of scotch is served to me.
But I don’t care. I’ll find a way to continue numbing the pain because I have no choice.
My little girl is gone.
I know Amelia is staying in our penthouse, Charlotte warned me earlier. She doesn’t say another word, the two of them inseparable since the moment she arrived. I purposely keep my distance, drowning my sorrows inside my office with another bottle of scotch.
The liquor turns into a vicious seed, and when my temper flares beyond my imagination, I smash the bottle against the wall in a fit of rage. Everywhere I turn, all I hear are Zuckerman’s words torturing me with its truth.
In the darkness of the night, I crawl into bed, lying beside my wife. Her scent feels like home, my fingers itching to touch her, yet I restrain.
The bed shuffles, and almost as if she feels my pain, knowing exactly what I need at this moment, she strokes my cheek with a gentle touch.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispers beside me. “She needs us, Lex.”
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me,” I choke, closing my eyes to rid myself of the memory. “With so much contempt.”
“She’s young, and she’s in love,” Charlotte murmurs, moving her body close to me, blanketing me in warmth. “We were just as foolish as she is. If anything, we were worse. We had more at stake. You were married. I was a teen. Amelia is an adult now, and mistakes will be made. We just need to love her, guide her in the best way possible.”
Love? There was no mention of love. I thought they were supposedly fucking. None of it matters anyway, each thing just as bad as the other.
“Promise me, Lex, you’ll let her get through this in her own way.”
“You want me to sit back and do nothing?”
“I want you to step out of the equation for just a moment. She’s at a crossroad in her life, don’t push her to make a decision because you think it’s right.”
I don’t say another word, closing my eyes shut to allow sleep to numb me. What only feels like minutes later, a cough expels violently like I’ve swallowed a bunch of razor blades. Beside me, Charlotte is fast asleep, undisturbed by my noise.
My eyes are shut tight, and I’m unable to ignore the fire clawing up my throat. Water, I need water. Crawling out of bed, I stumble to the bathroom to drink a glass of water, attempting to clear the burn inside my throat.
It all comes back to me like a recurring nightmare.
I grab my phone on the bedside table and send Jeff, our lawyer, a text message. A few minutes later, the phone buzzes in my hand as I answer it quietly.
“Edwards, it’s four in the morning?”
“Make it happen, or your job is on the line.”
“But I thought we were waiting until Anton and his group confirmed the merger?”
“You listen to me, Jeff,” I lower my voice, careful not to wake Charlotte. “I want Romano in London effectively immediately. Either you make that happen this morning, or it’s over for you. Your wife wouldn’t be too pleased that your stepdaughter is sucking your dick every day when she drops off your lunch, now would she?”
Silence falls between us until he releases a sigh. “I’ll draw up the papers.”
I hang up the phone and turn to look at Charlotte, who’s still fast asleep. The street glow filters in the room, enough so that I can admire her silhouette. She’s just as beautiful as the day I fell in love with her, maybe even more so. Charlotte doesn’t deserve this either. I hate seeing my wife so troubled, and for the last few weeks with Amelia ignoring her, I know she was hurt, though she tried to hide it.
But all of this, every emotion we’ve experienced is only because of our love for our daughter.
I stumble out of bed again, wincing as my head spins. With small footsteps, I walk toward Amelia’s room. Slowly, I push the door open and see her asleep in bed.
She looks so innocent and pure like Daddy’s little girl. Memories of her as a child flood my thoughts—her first steps, her first word, and the time she got her driver’s license, just like we always talk about. I was so excited for her, but little did I know that my oldest daughter was growing up.
Then, she got a boyfriend, and Austin was a good kid. He had a steady head on his shoulders and respected my authority.
He’s not a man who fucks women for pleasure, nor uses them as a conquest.
How dare he touch her.
Betray my trust.
Will Romano has no clue who he’s messing with, and in just over a day, he’ll be away from my daughter, out of her life for at least five years.
I’m going to make damn sure it happens, even if it costs me every cent I own.
