“Perfect, I’ll be there.” I can’t wait to get home to Beth. Despite being away for only six days, it feels like forever. He hands over the documents, and I carefully tuck them into my handbag.
When our plates arrive, I eagerly dig into my pancakes, enjoying the flavors of lemon and ricotta exploding across my tongue. A satisfied moan slips from my lips, probably a little too loud to be socially acceptable, but I couldn’t care less. These pancakes are to die for. I catch Dameon discreetly adjusting himself under the table, and I suppress a giggle.
“You’ll pay for that little stunt.”
“Promises, promises.”
***
Walking out of the restaurant, my stomach and heart are full. Hope blooms in my chest for the first time since my arrival in New York. I don’t need to examine the contract to know I’ll accept his offer.
I slide into the back seat of a yellow cab and retrieve my phone from my handbag. I’ve been around rich and powerful men long enough to know that you don’t put all your eggs in one basket. It’s risky not to have a backup plan ready to deploy if the deal with Dameon falls through. Time to check the text messages from my stepfather that have been waiting for me since this morning.
Mark
I’ve made my decision on the candidate. Call me.
Jeez, would it kill him to say “Good morning”? Or “How are you?” Or even “Thank you for coming with me last night”?
Mark
I would appreciate it if Sleeping Beauty graced me with her presence when she wakes up. Come to my office when you get this.
I roll my eyes at his feeble attempt at fatherly sarcasm and instruct the driver to head to the address he sent. As the taxi pulls away, I sink back into my seat, nerves knotting in my gut. What if I’m making a mistake?
Arriving at his office building in the financial district, I find myself drenched in a cold sweat. Unease bubbles inside me like molten lava, threatening to erupt and spill over. Playing this dangerous game with my stepfather is reckless, and I nearly reconsider, tempted to turn back. My summery dress clings to my skin, and tremors run through my body as adrenaline surges through my veins.
With false bravado, I stride into the grand foyer of his towering skyscraper. I’m literally walking into the lion’s den waving a juicy piece of steak, expecting not to be eaten. Sending a text to my stepfather backing out of our agreement and seeking refuge in Sydney under Dameon’s protection would be the simplest option. Yet, something holds me back. I need to cover all bases, prepare for all eventualities.
“Hi, I’m Hailee. I’m here to see Mark Strickland,” I tell the woman stationed at the reception desk.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, not bothering to look up from her computer screen.
“Um. I don’t—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“I’m sorry, miss, you’ll need an appointment to see Mr. Strickland,” she says, dismissing me.
Rude.
“But I’m—”
“Mr. Strickland doesn’t just see anyone who walks in off the street.” She eventually tears her gaze away from her screen to scold me.
I roll my eyes, pull out my phone and type a quick message. She raises an eyebrow as I hit send.
Me: Your guard dog won’t let me up.
Within seconds, her desk phone rings. I struggle to suppress a smug smile as her expression drops in recognition.
She hangs up, looking flustered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mann, I didn’t recognize you. His office is on the sixtieth floor. Please, go on up,” she stammers, and I almost feel sorry for her.
When I step into Mark’s office, I’m not surprised at how flashy it is. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows frame a breathtaking panorama of the Manhattan skyline and a magnificent mahogany desk dominates the center of the room. It’s been stained and polished to a gorgeous reddish brown. Behind it sits the man himself, exuding an air of authority like a king reigning over his empire.
I roll my shoulders back and straighten my spine, meeting his gaze head on as I swallow the knot in my throat. Time to play with fire and see if I get burned.
“Mark, I have a counter proposition for you.”
Chapter eight
