“Thank you.” As I take a sip, the waiter gasps from beside me and the restaurant quietens.
“Where’s my daughter?” Dad’s loud voice echoes. There’s an undercurrent of unease in the air as I place my glass on the table and glance up to see my father striding toward me.
He’s the most distinguished man in the room, and it has nothing to do with his good looks or the expensive suits he wears. His presence alone exudes confidence and authority. Glancing at the other patrons, I notice all eyes on him. Tall, with gray-and-black peppered hair, strong features, and broad shoulders, he commands attention. The waiter stands up straighter beside me.
I stand and smile as my father reaches our table. We share a brief hug, and I kiss him on the cheek. “Hello, Dad.”
He gives me a sharp nod. “Sophie, how has your morning been?”
I think back to the dick pic and barely hold back a laugh. “Quite amusing. How has your day been?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but his eyes narrow, locking onto a small crease in the linen. Dad’s gaze cuts to the waiter. “There’s a crease,” he points out as his fingers trail over it. “All linen must be wrinkle-free,” he spits acid, making me cringe. I bite my tongue. I don’t agree with how he speaks to people, but he’s the only parent I have left, so I try not to cause conflict.
I can sense others’ curious stares. Even though I should be used to Dad’s criticism, I still feel bad for the waiter, who has paled. “I’m so sorry,” the waiter stutters.
Elizabeth, the manager, rushes to our table. “Is everything okay, Mr. Crown?” she asks, her voice dripping with panic and concern.
He points to the crease in the linen. “If I am not receiving impeccable table settings, I can only imagine what other customers are receiving. Our guests expect a fine dining experience. Pay attention toeverydetail.”
“It won’t happen again.” She peers at the waiter. “Ambroise, I will be Mr. Crown and Sophie’s server today.” The waiter bobs his head in acknowledgment and darts away.
Elizabeth gracefully unfolds our linen napkins and places them in our laps. Dad watches her like a hawk, most likely to make sure the table service is perfect.
Dad’s eyes return to me. “I’ve been very busy with work.”
I nod because I try to stay out of our family’s businesses. That has never interested me. Dad’s smart, a workaholic, and cold-hearted—the perfect businessman—though I think he thaws the tiniest bit when he’s with me. Maybe because I’m his only daughter.
We order lunch and keep our conversation to a minimum. He answers his phone throughout our meal, making me wonder why he organized lunch to begin with.
* * *
I twirlin front of the long wardrobe mirror and watch as the long red dress flutters around me, showcasing my leg that’s poking out of the thigh-high split. The dress has a fitted halter neck and a flowing skirt. I grasp the glass and throw back the shot of whiskey, then walk into the kitchen and put the glass in the sink.
When I get to the front door, I slide my feet into my Christian Louboutins and sling my gold Gucci purse over my shoulder. Giddiness sparks through my body. I take one last peek in the mirror by the front door, checking my red lipstick, before I make my way to the limousine waiting in the parking bay in front of the resort.
When I open the door, Alec and Lawson are already inside, though I’m not surprised. I give them a small smile as I shuffle along the seat facing them.
“We are going to a nightclub, Alec. At least take the tie off. It looks like you’ve come from the office.” He’s wearing a damn suit to a social get-together. He adjusts his tie, which is already straight. Lawson is a bit more appropriately dressed in a blue collared shirt and dark blue jeans. “Have you heard from Harrison?” I ask them.
“He’s late… as per usual,” answers Alec.
Sometimes I wonder how my parents gave birth to both Alec and Harrison. They are opposites. There’s Mr. I-Have-a-Pole-Stuck-up-My-Ass and Mr. Casual, who is the courageous firefighter. Harrison is easygoing and gives no fucks about being a part of the family business… just like me.
I pull my phone from my clutch and message Piper.
Piper
One hour to Vegas woohooo!
I’m so jealous. Have a great time with the sexy bikers and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do *wink*
Fifteen minutes later, the door opens, and Harrison slides in next to me. “Sorry I’m late.” Alec grunts in response.
“Love the dress, sis.”
I smile back at Harrison. “Thank you.” He’s wearing a fitted white shirt, black jeans, and white sneakers. “Very handsome. You’re going to fit right in with the MC. Have you met any of them?”
He smiles. “Only occasionally around town. They mainly stick to themselves, so I don’t know much about them. Knox, or should I say Bomber, since that’s his MC name, is close with two he served with in the military, Reaper and Viper.”
