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She left to run errands, and I stayed home to stay on track for the day’s word count goals, so I didn’t see her again for quite some time.

Unfortunately, I did see Ida and my father, together and separately, quite a few times. They just kept popping into my office and annoying the hell out of me with various complaints and demands.

I took my daily swim and Ida was there in a white thong bikini, perched on the edge of the pool, her feet and calves dipped in, while she called out encouragement for my laps like I was doing something impressive.

Even with how obvious she was being it took me a while to realize she was flirting like she thought we might rekindle some old flame. Yikes.

“Do you need money, too?” I asked her suspiciously at one point when she just wouldn’t leave.

She looked surprised but not for the reasons one might think. “Too? Carson asked you for money? He didn’t even tell me! I’ll make him pay for trying to hide money from me again.” With a huff, she left.

Well, that did the trick.

And my dad kept seeking me out to give me ‘advice.’ He was waffling between trying to get me to fire Ro to speculating about how he might go about seducing her.

He was such an unrepentant piece of shit I could hardly take it sometimes.

And Ro was still gone. I kept texting her complaints about the company I was being forced to keep, but she didn’t respond.

By 5 p.m., I started drinking copiously—the good Scotch.

I’d had enough of my dad and Ida for the year, but somehow that didn’t make them disappear.

I drank until I was fuzzy-headed, decided that was a good development, then drank until I was whistling, then dancing and singing.

That was when Ro found me.

My mood brightened considerably.

I was still hanging out in my office, though I’d stopped being productive quite some time ago.

She took a seat on my sofa and studied me like I was being particularly interesting. “Aren’t you the belle of the ball?” she asked sardonically.

She studied me some more.

I just knew she was thinking up new insults for me.

I sat down.

She was such a sassy piece.

“I am,” she agreed.

Oops, I’d said that out loud.

“It’s far from the worst thing you’ve said out loud today.”

Oops, that too.

“Why were you gone so long? What were you doing?” I asked her. Against my will it came out as a drunken whine.

“Avoiding your father, obviously.”

“If he bothers you, I’ll rearrange his face,” I told her confidently. I’d gotten into several memorable physical altercations with my asshole dad, and I’d been winning them since I was seventeen. The ones before that, well, I figured they didn’t count. My dad figured otherwise, because when we got to grandstanding, those were the only victories he could boast about, when it came to me. “And if he touches you, so much as your fucking pinkie, he’s going to wake up in a hospital.” The words were a drunken slur, but I meant them down to my soul.

“I can handle myself,” she said softly, shooting me a look that, even drunk, I could see the affection in.

She changed the subject. “Did you meet your word count goal today?” she asked.