“Yes, now get back to work.”
“When?” he asks.
“A while ago, out!” I point to the door.
“You were toying with me?” he asks with a mix of awe and indignation.
“I sure was, and you were eating it up. I swear, I’m not going to ask you again,” I warn.
He gets to his feet but doesn’t leave. I have the worst assistant in the world. “You made me think it was you who were on trial!”
I wish it was me because my husband would be alive.
Loss isn’t something I truly understood before his death. I thought the people who were sad for years after a tragedy should get on with their life and heal by moving on. I judged those who would say the things I now felt because I couldn’t grasp the amount of pain they were in. To want to die because you lost someone was once insane to me, but when I was in that sea of despair, I got it. I felt the hurt in my bones and I would’ve given anything to make it stop.
“No one said that. You assumed it and I was playing along.”
Milo shakes his head with a grin. “Bravo. You were quite believable. You said the trial is for a man who killed your husband?”
No such luck on him overlooking that bit of news. “Yes,” I say, feeling the dread of the million questions that will follow.
“I’m sorry,” Milo says. “My father was killed. Did you know that?”
“No,” I say softly. Callum may be part of our little crazy family, but I don’t know much about him. He and Nicole were a whirlwind. We met him, spent very little time with him, mostly because she kept him a secret, and then they were married. It was crazy, but when it comes to Nicole, we expect it.
Even working at Dovetail for over a year now, I still don’t know him. I know what he’s like as a businessman, and I respect him. But personally, I have no clue about his family or past.
Milo’s face morphs to anger. “I was sixteen and he was in a car accident where the other driver was absolutely pissed. That cow walked away without a scratch and I lost my father.”
Now it’s my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry, Milo.”
He shakes his head. “It’s life. We don’t get to decide, do we? We make the best of it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” he laughs. “I’m wrong, but so very right.”
And back to the Milo I expect.
I roll my eyes. “Go back to work. I think there’s some filing to be done.”
Instead of huffing, like I would do if I was a senior executive at this company before and someone told me to file, he snaps tall and gives me a salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“You know.” I place my hand on the desk. “You don’t have to continue working here. I can’t imagine you’re happy.”
“And let my brother win?”
“Is that what this is about?”
Milo moves toward the door and stops. “Callum has won everything. Since we were just tots, he always won. He got to come to America for holiday each year. He attended the best schools, was loved by my father as his own, and was Mum’s favorite, even if I always tried to convince myself I was. Nothing I did was good enough because Callum always did it better, and did everything he could to show everyone my insignificance. His arrogance disgusts me, and he believes I’m weak. He’s wrong. No one should underestimate my strength.”
Without another word, Milo walks out the door.
His words bounce around in my head, and my hopes of him quitting are gone. He’s not going anywhere, and I’m going to need to up my game.
Chapter Eight
Milo
Stubbornness is a trait I wish I didn’t possess, as I’m sure Mum would agree. Trouble finds me because I refuse to give in. There’s no quitting in my world. I fight. I conquer. I take no bloody prisoners.
At least until I lose interest.
I could do Danielle’s job with my eyes closed. Even without knowing American real estate the way she does. Instead, I’m stuck doing the most ridiculous tasks and waiting for my opportunity to pounce.
I would quit, but that would be exactly what they want.
Instead, I’m driving to Danielle’s house because she forgot a file at the office.
A fucking file.
One she probably doesn’t even need since she’s not working on this deal, but as her assistant, it is my duty to assist.
Idiot brother of mine.
The GPS tells me to stop here and I stare at the home that matches the address she gave me. It’s a nice neighbourhood, I guess. Not exactly like the trendy area I’m staying in, but she was married so I can see the appeal.
I grab the file and walk toward the door. The weeds are overgrown in the garden, and the yard is atrocious. I remember then that her husband was killed, and see my Mum for a moment.
Danielle, however, is not my sweet, loving Mum. She’s the woman who stole my job.
As I lift my hand to knock on the door, it swings open.
“Well, hello there.” The smaller version of Danielle says. “And who might you be?”
She runs her tongue along the bottom of her lip and I swear she’s coming onto me. “I’m Milo,” I say hesitantly. “You are?”
“I’m Ava.” Her eyes roam my body.
“Yes, well, I’m here to drop off something for your mother, I presume?”
I don’t know if Danielle has kids or how many. I don’t really care to ask. The more I know, the more I’ll probably feel bad when I destroy her and take back what’s rightfully mine. Or I could not be a fool and get all the information possible in case I can use it later.
Such a tricky situation this is.
“Yup.” She grins. “Are you my new daddy?”
“Are you mad?”
“Does that mean crazy about you?”
Jesus. Danielle has her hands full. “No, it means just crazy. Is your mother home?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. It’s just us.”
Wonderful, I think to myself.
“I love your accent,” Ava says stepping forward.
Dear Lord, this girl is positively mad. “Would you give this to her?”
“Want to come in? You can wait here, we could . . . talk.”
“Yes, because that sounds like a fab idea,” I roll my eyes. “You’re quite the little trouble maker, aren’t you?”
Ava shrugs, moving closer again while I step back. This is not going well. All I need is her mother to think I’m coming onto her child.
“I have daddy issues,” she says.
I jerk back at her comment. What a strange thing to say. Then again, she has lost her father, which would make sense as to why she’s acting out.
And then I see it. She’s me.
“How old are you, Ava?”
“Sixteen.”
Her father died at the same age mine did. I was so angry at the world when I lost him. The cow who drank too much and got behind the wheel. She stole someone I loved and I wanted everyone to pay for it.
It seems Ava is dealing with the same.
Daddy issues indeed.
And Danielle has no idea what else might be in store.
“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you,” I say as I take a step back.
“Don’t go,” she says quickly. “My mother . . . she’ll want you to stay. You know how she is. Hates leaving me all by myself. I’m sure she’d be fine with her very good-looking assistant watching me until she gets back.”
I’m many things but a fool is not one.
“You’re a minor,” I remind her. “And while I appreciate the compliment, there’s no way I would ever take you up on that. You’re a beautiful little girl, but I’m a grown man.”
“I’m not a little girl! You don’t even know me.”
That’s where she’s wrong. “I know more than you think. You lost your father, and you’re trying so hard to figure out how not to feel all your anger. Am I getting warmer?”
She’s trying to come up with a retort but falls short. “Whatever.”
Despite her attitude, I can see in her eyes that I struck a nerve. “Take it from me, you should be careful who you say things like that to,” I tell her. “I may be a gentleman, but another man might not be.”
“Thanks for the unwanted advice.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of like her. She reminds me so much of myself I can’t help but think she’s fantastic . . . since I am and all.