PART ONE
PASSION
Scene 1
Maggie
My feet weighed a thousand pounds when I turned on Ocean Avenue and stopped at a white and blue, ten-story tower.
I’d never been a morning person. Everybody knew that. Dad knew that when he insisted I meet him at eight a.m. at the penthouse.
An ambush awaited me inside. I had no doubt about it.
At least this time, I planned to get something in return from that dreadful meeting. But was anything in the world worth walking into this house again?
The doorman greeted me, bringing my thoughts to a temporary halt.
“Morning.” I took off my sunglasses, straining to pop my eyes wider. My boots echoed on the marble tiles as I ambled to the elevator. I slid my hand into the inside pocket of my jacket, pulled out a key card, waved it over the keypad, and ascended to the penthouse.
My breath shuddered in my chest when the elevator opened. I breathed out slowly and dragged myself out.Eyes on the prize, Maggie. Eyes on the prize.
Loretta, the housekeeper, opened the door with a grin on her fifty-year-old face. There was something kind about this short, plump woman that always made me smile. “Good morning, Maggie.”
I pecked her cheek. “Is she up?” I whispered, taking off my jacket.
Loretta made a funny face as she stowed the jacket away in the coat closet. “I’m afraid so.”
My shoulders slumped. “And Dad?”
“He’s waiting for you to join him for breakfast on the terrace.”
I stalked across the living room, heading toward the stellar view of the ocean, Dad smiling at me behind the floor-to-ceiling window.
“Maggie.” A firm voice rang behind me followed by the sound of heels clicking on the floor.
The ambush.
I froze for a second. Then, clenching my fists, I took a deep breath and spun around. “Andrea.”
It never got old calling my mother by her first name. If she wanted to be called Mom, she had to earn it. And Andrea had given up that right long ago.
Her long brown hair perfectly coiffed. Full makeup. Manicured hands. Bold red lipstick. A black pencil skirt and a red, silk blouse, accentuating her assets as always. My mother looked like a celebrity ready for a photo shoot before she even had breakfast.
“You cut your hair?” She eyed me from head to toe, her mouth turned down in disapproval. “And what are you wearing?”
Here we go.“What, you don’t like my outfit?” I adjusted the metallic belt against my little, black dress and smirked.
Andrea furrowed her thin eyebrows. “Someone with thighs like yours should not parade them like that. What size are you now? Fourteen?”
Ignore her. She’s not worth it. You promised yourself. “No. I’m still an eight. Same as the past five years.”
Dad stepped into the living room, holding a cup of coffee, a cautious smile on his lips. “Good morning, girls.”
I flung my shoulders around him, needing the safety of his embrace, careful not to spill the coffee, though. “Daddy.”
He kissed me on the cheek and handed me the cup, but I shook my head. “Thanks. I’m planning to go back to sleep.”
Andrea folded her arms across her chest. “Agreeing to show up here at eight in the morning means you want something really bad. What is it this time?”
