"You’re so wrong about him, Daddy!" I yell. "He treats me with respect."
"Oh really?" Dad scoffs. "Even though you're from the wrong side of town?"
"Absolutely. He's humble and kind. And he's been nothing but a complete gentleman with me."
Even as I say it, this morning flashes through my mind—in the shower, him driving into me from behind, his teeth grazing my neck, whispering filthy things while I clawed at the tile, boneless and sobbing for more.
I look away, cheeks burning.
Drew snorts. "There's something diabolical about that boy. And too old for you. He's got to be least thirty."
"Oh, come on, Drew," I snap. Drew's always been one hex short of superstitious.
"What, he had the unionists eating out of his hand in the space of a single meeting!" Drew mutters. "Remember Bobby? How we all agreed on terms, and next thing we know, they sit with that boy and he's sweet-talking them into a deal!"
Shit. I almost forgot Jordan is technically their boss.
Drew’s on a roll now. "And now, his fooling around with you is coincidental? You're his foreman's daughter. Don't think it means something?"
"Jordan’s relationship with me has nothing to do with work," I say. "And besides he’s just interning with Tim Hadfield, the COO. He's not staying long."
"Which is what worries me, Sabrina." Dad retorts, his hands balling to fists. "How old is he, anyway?
I swallow. "Twenty-three."
Dad's eyes widen. "You're telling me that boy is only twenty-three years old?"
"Yes." I sigh, knowing Jordan can come across as much older because of the responsibilities he carries. "Daddy, I'm telling you, he's is a regular guy."
He just stares at me. "Sabrina, there is nothing regular about Jordan Farrington."
"What do you mean?"
Drew answers before Dad can. "His father’s not a good man, kiddo."
"This isn’t about his father. It’s about Jordan."
"It’s never just about the son with men like that!" Drew shoots back. "Farringtons don’t do anything unless it looks good on a balance sheet. Tell me, kiddo, what doyoubring to their financial table?"
Rage flares hot in my chest. "How can you judge him when you don’t knowanythingabout him."
"I know enough," Drew shoots back. "I’ve seen how he controls the men on the plant. It’s not normal. No wonder he's got you all wrapped up in him. He's brainwashing you."
Oh here we go.Drew's on his cryptic conspiracy arc again.
"Drew," Dad snaps. "I'd like to talk to my daughter. Alone."
Drew stiffens like he’s been slapped. For a moment he just stares at Dad, his jaw working. Then, without a word, he slams his cereal bowl on the table and stalks out the door, letting it bang shut behind him.
I look between my dad’s ashen face and the still-trembling door. The two men who raised me. My quiet, principled father. Drew, with his fire and nonsense and loyalty.
I sink into the chair I’ve been gripping, suddenly exhausted. "Look, I know what you’re thinking, Daddy. That I’m some dumb girl dazzled by shiny things and fast cars."
"That thought has crossed my mind, once or twice," Dad mutters.
I glare at him. "That’s not what this is about. Jordan’s a good man. A great guy, Daddy, He’s principled. Ambitious. And he’s in love with me."
Dad’s eyes soften. "Of course he’s smitten. You are amazing, Bree. But that doesn’t make him the right man for you. Actually, he's very wrong for you."
