85
I get bogged down with work and end up with the headache from hell before heading home. It’s been a stressful first day back, and now, more than ever, I’m hating his absence. We’re a team; we work on all this crap together, and we do it well. I’ve never had to take over single-handedly, and I don’t like it anymore. I’m angry at him for making me do this, mad at how my emotions are up and down, and I can’t stick to hating him or missing him.
I know it’s part of my job, and I know I’m capable, but I detest it. I know more about the Carrero empire than I could have imagined; I’ve so many staff at my fingertips that it’s terrifying. I constantly converse with lawyers, security, HR, and other crazily-titled employees, and sometimes I wonder how my head hasn’t self-imploded. I’m only twenty-six, and having so much resting on my shoulders is a considerable achievement. I know I’m good at what I do, but still …
Why the hell did I have to find my calling at the side of a complete asshole named Jake, who makes me feel completely lost without him?
***
“Miss Anderson?”
I glance up at Rosalie as she stands in my office doorway, so lost in this spreadsheet and my thoughts I never heard her approach. It’s Thursday afternoon, and I’m feeling the strain of another busy day.
“Yes?”
“There’s someone at the reception desk asking for you.” She seems nervous and moves from foot to foot.
Do I make her nervous? I don’t like the fact that I do.
“Send them in.” I smile brightly, trying to put her at ease. I never used to care about the effect I had on her, but I don’t like the way she’s hovering or the unsure aura she has about her.
Am I that bad to work for?
“Not up here, Miss Anderson, down at main reception; security doesn’t want to send them up,” she explains hesitantly. I frown and glance at my watch; I’ve no meetings planned for another two hours, so this confuses me.
“I’ll go down.” I smile and wave her away, seeing her noticeable relief at my calm response.
***
I check my appearance in the elevator mirror and smooth down my pencil skirt and jacket. I’m back in PA mode with tailored perfection, the only difference being my hair which softens all of it. I’m getting used to it now, even though it throws off my whole style, and I often catch people staring at me.
I move through the building and out toward the main desk at reception.
“You’ve someone here to see me?” I smile at the receptionist as she looks me over blankly.
“I’m Emma Anderson.”
She balks, obviously realizing who I am, and fumbles; I’ve
had this a lot since I returned with new hair. I sigh heavily in irritation and suppress an eyeroll.
“Of course, Miss Anderson, yes. They’re right over there in the waiting area. The gentleman in the green coat.” She points toward the seating area, seemingly flustered.
Jeez, do I just have that effect on all of them? How have I never noticed this before?
“Thank you. His name?”
“Ummm, he didn’t leave one. He said you would know him, ma’am.” She looks away quickly, aware she’s just ticked me off further. I frown and nod, a little irritated at her lack of competence.
I move toward the large, seated waiting area and run my eyes along the people lurking around waiting for appointments. The green coat has his back to me and does seem vaguely familiar. I hesitate, then move forward and tap his shoulder gently.
It feels like the world stops spinning when he turns, and I’m faced with the familiar blue eyes that resemble my own. A faded gray, stubbly face, that crooked mouth, aged but still recognizable, the shifty eyes and awkward posture of that creep from my teenage memories.
My father.
I inhale sharply and step back, trying to conceal my disgust.
“Emma.” He grins at me as though we’re old friends, and I just openly stare at him, speechless and momentarily dazed.
“I know I shouldn’t have just shown up, but …” he starts.
“Why are you here?” I snap, cutting him off with a glare and raspy voice, my tone as cold and shocked as I feel.
“I haven’t been able to call you or contact you. I tried before, a few times, but you’re never here. Your cell says it’s cut off.” He actually has the nerve to grin again, and I wonder if he’s mentally unstable.
What the hell?
“Why are you here?” I repeat, grinding my teeth, not even taking a moment to point out that I changed my cell number because of him.
“You’re my kid, Emma,” he shrugs as if that’s all the excuse he needs. My anger, simmering under my skin, rises a hundred degrees.
“I’m surprised you’re aware of that.” I realize surrounding eyes have looked up in interest, and we are drawing attention, people wondering why I am so hostile.
Crap. I can’t do this here. Too public, and we have an audience.
PA Emma takes control over shocked and emotional Emma, and I regain instant composure.
“Please come with me so we can talk somewhere private.” I turn on my heel briskly, gripping my fingers together harshly, my nails biting my flesh, but ignore it. I want to throw up; my skin bristles as I sense him move behind me into the elevator, and I stand as far away as I can, trying hard to breathe.
“You don’t know what it means to me to have you see me,” he slurs with a lop-sided grin, but it does nothing for me.
“Stop talking,” I hiss as the doors close on us, and I face him aggressively now that we’re concealed, my fury revealed. “You can fuck off back to whatever hole you climbed out of, got it? When I get off this elevator, I’m going to have security remove you,” I spit, the venom thick and clear in my voice, revealing my rage, my body barely concealing the anger running through me or the revulsion at his presence.
“Emma, please, I’m your dad,” he whines, defensively lifting his hands, his eyes widening in disbelief at my sudden change in demeanor. So clueless.
“No, you’re fucking not!”
It takes more than a sperm donation to be a father!
He steps back, blinking, but I have nothing but seething fury
and anger growing from deep within, hatred consuming me like a burning ball of wrath in my stomach.
“You think I don’t know why you’re here?” I laugh sarcastically. “You think I’ve lucked out and got myself a rich man in Jake Carrero. He’s my fucking boss, okay? So, boo on you. I get paid a wage like everyone else. A normal fucking wage that doesn’t even touch on any sort of lavish lifestyle. I am nothing to him except his assistant,” I sneer at him. The urge to shake him comes over me, and tears hit the backs of my eyes as I am consumed with devastation.
“No, no, I’m not here for that, really,” he scrambles, his eyes darting anywhere but to mine. He looks confused and, dare I say it, … disappointed.
Yes, that’s right, asshole, squirm!
“Really?” My voice is dripping with hatred and unconcealed disbelief that he would stoop this low.
“I just want to get to know you. I’ve missed so much.” He’s flailing; he knows he is dive-bombing, his voice lacking conviction. His eyes search the elevator for a point to focus on.
“You’re a fucking liar. You had your chance when I was a kid. Where were you for the last twenty odd years?” I retort, emotion stinging my eyes, my heart aching badly as I try to reign it in.
“I was, Ummm, uh …” He’s raking his hand through his hair evasively, probably shocked that I’m nothing like my mother. If I were, I would be lying in a hospital bed beside her in Chicago, thanks to Ray Vanquis. The elevator pings, and the doors open, but no one’s there to walk in. I turn on him again, unable to calm down at all.
“What do you really want? Be honest. I might actually give it to you if you are,” I test him. He has the grace to look uncomfortable, at least, and shiftily looks away. I can smell booze at this distance, and it’s the first time I notice the yellow-stained whites in his eyes. Maybe he’s a drunk. Perhaps it’s drugs. I don’t care!
“I could do with a little help. Get back on my feet, you know?” he answers sheepishly, barely able to look at me.
“You mean money?” I grit my teeth so hard it hurts my jaw. His face flushes, and he nods.
“What is my middle name?” I snap suddenly, my frayed emotions kicking in, and teen Emma slides out impulsively.
“Ummm …” He moves back, blinking hard.
“When is my birthday?” I yell loudly, my voice shaking. He gulps and tries to look anywhere except at me.
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