“No,” I said immediately as my head shook back and forth. “There’s no way.”
“Yes.”
“No,” I repeated, louder. “Absolutely not. I have accounts to run for clients who actually like me. A life that doesnotinvolve flying halfway across the country to play nice with corporate aristocracy.”
“Laptops exist, Kate.” I glared at him, but he was undeterred. “You’ll be fine managing your clients remotely. You do it when you travel for conferences. This is no different.”
“It’s very different,” I retorted. “It’s political, and let’s not even talk about how humiliating it would be.”
“It’s necessary,” he insisted calmly, folding his hands on his desk and holding my gaze like he was expecting me to argue. I opened my mouth to do just that, but he cut me off before I could get a word out. “Alex is already expecting you. He insisted on hosting you personally while negotiations are ongoing and he’s rented you an apartment for the next month. The same high-rise he lives in.”
I stared at him, convinced I’d misheard. Or that I was hallucinating. Or having a nightmare. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s a very nice building,” he offered. “The St. Regis. Have you ever heard of it? It’s on the Gold Coast. You’ll love it.”
“Dad.”
“Kate, this is a massive opportunity. For the firm. For your future role here. For the stability of everything we’ve built. I’m not asking you to go, baby. I’mtellingyou that you are.”
I held his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, uncertainty, or anything else that suggested this decision wasn’t already locked in like a contract written in blood, but I didn’t find it. The fight drained out of me in one slow, reluctant exhale.
My father wasn’t some tyrannical bulldozer who issued orders like nobody else’s opinion was relevant. If he was this set on whatever he and Alex had discussed, there was a reason for it. A deeper reason than simply wanting to ruin my life by sending me to work with those assholes.
“Fine,” I said flatly, grabbing my tablet off the corner of his desk. “I’ll go. I’ll pitch, I’ll smile, and I’ll even pretend I don’t want to take a sledgehammer to their boardroom.”
Relief flashed in his eyes, subtle but disturbingly real. “Thank you. Go pack your things, honey. You’re flying out tomorrow.”
I gave him a quick, curt nod, but when I reached the door, I paused with my hand on the handle. Every instinct was screaming at me that this was going to spiral into something catastrophic.
My gut was insisting that I had to stop it now, to tell my dad that we could find another way, but then I thought of the intense relief I’d just seen when I’d agreed, and I left his office instead, shutting the door with a soft click behind me.
Whatever happened in Chicago, I could get through it if it meant saving my father from the stress he’d been feeling when he’d told me I had to go. Even so, by the time I made it back to my apartment on the west side, my blood pressure had achieved levels usually reserved for people stuck behind tourists who stopped walking in the middle of busy sidewalks.
I dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the table by the door and immediately started pacing, abandoning my heels halfway across the living room. I dragged my hands through my hair for the hundredth time today, aggravation rolling through me no matter how many times I’d tried to breathe past it.
Late afternoon light spilled through my windows, bouncing off the glass towers around me. It painted my apartment in golden hues that always made me feel calm, but it did absolutely nothing for my mood today.
Chicago. For a month. With the Westwoods.
While I’d never met all of them and hadn’t spent enough time with the others to be sure, Nate was a complete dick. The absolute best case scenario was that I’d be doing most of my negotiating with Alex and not his brother.
Except, Nate was the CFO. Not Alex.
I groaned out loud at the realization and spun toward my kitchen island, bracing my palms against the cool marble as ifthe surface could save me. Despite how my dad had made it sound, this wasn’t just business travel.
It was corporate diplomacy. My father was essentially pushing me into a room full of wolves with impeccable tailors on speed dial.
My phone rang on the counter, vibrating against the stone, and my heart leaped.Please let it be my dad. Please let him be calling to tell me he’s changed his mind.
It was my mom instead.Of course.
I stared at the screen for a beat before answering. “How bad did he make it sound?”
“Hello to you too,” she said warmly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “And for the record, he sounded proud, and slightly terrified, which, knowing you, seems like an accurate emotional response. How bad did you let him have it?”
Despite my annoyance that it hadn’t been Dad calling to let me know he’d found a different solution, I huffed out a quiet laugh and leaned against the counter. “I thought I showed restraint, considering he’s sending me to Chicago.”
“Yes, he told me about your new assignment.”
