CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nervous, I flipped through a magazine until Daniel Fitzgerald’s beautiful blond receptionist gave me the go ahead to enter. The offices of Fitzgerald & Quinn were nestled in the heart of Boston’s financial district, and the large corner office I stepped into left little doubt that the man in front of me was one of the most important executives in the city’s corporate landscape. Dressed in an imposing three-piece suit, he pored over the paperwork on his double pedestal desk, his reading glasses resting on the ridge of his nose. He was no longer the carefree young man I’d seen in the photo.
“Mr. Fitzgerald.” My voice faltered at the simple greeting.
He looked up at me, a mirror of my own cool blue eyes. His hair was graying and his face was lined, but he was still very handsome. The essence of the man in the photo was recognizable.
“I’m Erica Hathaway.” I reached out to shake his hand.
He rose to greet me and motioned me to the chairs in front of his desk with a pleasant smile. “Erica, please have a seat.”
I settled into one and breathed in the rich aroma of well-loved leather.
“Let’s see. You’re with the Harvard Review?” He arched a brow at me.
“Well, about that—”Alli had gotten me the interview under the guise of being with the well-known publication, and if this didn’t go well, someone would probably get kicked off the staff because of the favor she pulled.
He looked at me expectantly.
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
“Does the name Patricia Hathaway mean anything to you?” I asked finally, watching him intently as I spoke the words.
If the mention of her name meant anything to him, he didn’t show it, his face frozen, void of emotion. His blue eyes bore into me, giving nothing away.
He glanced to his watch casually. “I’m not sure it does. How does this pertain to the interview, young lady?” His voice was even and incredibly composed.
I swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to throw up. Was I crazy for doing this? What if I was wrong? What if Marie had misinformation?
I shoved the doubt out of my mind and focused on the present. I looked down at my hands that were twisted anxiously in my lap. “I’m Patricia Hathaway’s daughter. I was hoping I could speak to you about that.”
He rose abruptly. He crossed the office with fluid grace, shut the door, and then returned to his seat. His eyes fixed on his desk.
A long silence fell between us, and within it, the truth hit me. My body felt numb at the realization.
“Where are you going with this?” He whipped his glasses off and tossed them onto the desk, revealing a hardened stare.
Oh my God. My doubts gave way to the unmistakable truth that this man really was my father. I could feel it. I gripped the edge of the seat, my palms sweating profusely. I offered up a silent prayer he didn’t kick me out on the spot after I said what I was about to say.
“I’m—” I tried to imagine myself saying the words, but they caught in my throat. They sounded crazy and presumptuous. But they were true. I knew it. What if he didn’t believe me? I shut my eyes tight and blurted it out before I lost my resolve. “Mr. Fitzgerald, I believe I’m your daughter.”
He leaned back in the chair, his jaw tight, his eyes penetrating mine. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. My heart pounded in my chest, the anticipation of what he might say or do hung in the air between us.
He exhaled slowly and leaned forward into his desk. “So let’s get down to it. Is this about money? If so, just let me know how much we’re talking about.”
I struggled to speak, but his words had cut through me. He thought I was extorting cash from him? No, no, no. Shit. I shook my head frantically and rubbed the space between my brows. This was going all wrong. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to meet you. That’s all.” I didn’t need anything from him. At least nothing like that.
He hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward on his desk again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I can’t say I was expecting this.”
“Neither was I, to be honest. I never thought I would meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Listen, um, Erica.” He cleared his throat and rearranged some papers on his desk. “This isn’t really the time or the place to delve into this, I’m afraid.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry—”
“I’m in the middle of this campaign. They schedule me fifteen minutes at a time here so I have another meeting shortly.”
I stilled as I caught his meaning. If I wasn’t a threat, he didn’t have time for me. My throat thickened and my eyes burned with unshed tears. What a waste of time. The part of me that had held out so much hope for this meeting now flooded with painful regret. I should have known better. This was stupid, foolish. If only Marie hadn’t shown me that goddamn photo...
“I understand.” I reached for my purse, hoping I didn’t appear as hurt as I felt. “It was a pleasure meeting you, in any case. Good luck with the campaign.”
I rose to shake his hand and glanced down, avoiding his eyes. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how I was hurting. He caught my hand and held it a moment longer.
“Tell Patty I said hello, all right?”
“She’s dead.” My voice was flat, emotionless. Of course he would assume she was still alive. She’d been taken from me too soon.
He exhaled in a rush, his hand dropping from mine. I caught a shadow of emotion pass over his eyes. He rubbed at his chest, wincing with the motion. “I had no idea.”
I nodded. “She passed away when I was twelve. Pancreatic cancer. But she didn’t suffer long.” My voice was quiet as I spoke the words, steady and objective, as if I were talking about someone I barely knew, detaching myself from the emotions as soon as they threatened to show up. Today was not the day to revisit my grief. I was hanging on a by an emotional thread as it was.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. You couldn’t have known.” Right?
I turned to go and he stopped me, placing a powerful hand on my shoulder to still me. “Erica, wait.”
My eyebrows shot up and my heart raced from the roller coast of emotions rushing through me the past few moments.
“My family and I are spending some time on the Cape this weekend. Maybe we could...catch up? Talk through this a bit more.”
“Sure,” I said quickly. I smiled, and took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift from my body at the offer. Did he mean it?
“Wonderful.” He smiled.
“Mr. Fitzgerald—”
“Please, call me Daniel—I guess.” He shrugged nervously. He looked more human, less formidable now than before.
I relaxed, and a seedling of hope grew within me. “Daniel, I’m sorry about this approach. I don’t suppose there’s ever really a good way to do this.”
“Probably not.” He scribbled an address on a monogrammed notepad and handed a sheet of paper to me. “Here’s the address of the house. Let’s plan for dinner on Friday then. You can stay as long as you’d like.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He rose, showing me to the door. “Me too.”
I gave him an awkward wave goodbye. We were nowhere close to being on hugging terms.
* * *
Back at the apartment I took a long soak in the claw foot tub that stood in the center of my adjoining bathroom. Sure, it was midday, but today was no ordinary day. Today had been possibly the most intense of my adult life, and it most certainly could have been worse. Still, I needed to take things down a notch. I took a little sip of my white wine when the phone rang beside me, startling me as it shattered through my moment of peace and momentarily silencing the soundscapes playing through my phone.
“Hello?”
“Erica, it’s Max.”
“Oh, hi.” I pushed myself up in the tub and glanced around for anything I could write on if I needed to.
“Is this a good time?”
“Sure,” I lied, embarrassed that I was about to have a business conversation in the tub.
“So good news. The deal is all set. I’m reviewing it for any final edits right now, and we should be ready to sign off tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect. I can be there in the morning, if that works for you.” My nerves would be shot if we scheduled it any later.
“Great. I’m really looking forward to working with you, Erica.”
“Likewise, Max. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can actually. Thank me with a return on the investment.”
A little pang of fear shot through me. “I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“Oh, and dinner tonight. I’d like to celebrate with my new business partner.”
I smiled, but my excitement was dampened by the very recent memory of my last business dinner going horribly wrong. What were the chances I could get through another one without Blake delivering death threats and choke holds?
“I actually have plans in the evening, but how about a celebratory lunch, my treat?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Erica.”
We said our goodbyes and I sank back in the warm water of the tub, enlivened by the sudden reality that with these funds, my entire existence was about to change. I’d been lying low the past few weeks, waiting for this big break. Now, in a matter of hours, we’d be funded and we could begin operating on a much larger scale. I’d have employees, payroll, paperwork, and problems that I couldn’t possibly anticipate right now.
The future was uncertain and scary as hell, but a little flutter of excitement grew within me. I’d never felt more ready for the challenge. I sent up a little prayer to the universe that I wouldn’t screw it up.
I was very relaxed and a little buzzed when Blake came in.
“Hard day at the office?” He sat on the lip of the tub where my feet propped up out of the bubbles.
“I need a down day before my life gets busy.”
“After tomorrow, I’m sure it will.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, hoping against hope that somehow he didn’t know about a deal going through his own firm.
“Yes, I know you’re finalizing everything with Max tomorrow,” he said. “Can we talk about alternatives?”
“No, we can’t, Blake, because we’ve already discussed this and the answer is no.” I sounded as resolute as I could without yelling.
“You don’t even know Max, and you’re willing to hand over ownership of your company to him,” he continued, and I could tell he was digging in to win this.
F*ck. “That’s what I’d be doing with you. What’s the difference?”
“I never said I wanted ownership. You could give me common stock, or we could call it a loan. It doesn’t really matter to me.”
“Exactly.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Erica.”
I rose from the tub, wet and covered in bubbles. “Can you hand me my towel?”
“Not until we talk about this.” He didn’t budge.
He stared at me, his arms folded resolutely across his chest, seeming only slightly distracted by my nakedness. Fortunately I could live without the towel.
“You need to stop this,” I snapped.
“You need to trust me,” he said.
Something about the way he said it gave me pause. Why was this suddenly so important to him? What had changed between us over these few weeks that made the possibility of investing with Max so unbearable to him? I would have asked if I thought he’d give me a straight answer. Regardless, nothing he could say would change my mind. I had made my decision. He would know once and for all that I was not his to own and control.
I stepped out onto the tile floor, nearly slipping on the soapy water I’d brought with me from the tub. He moved to help me, but I yanked away from reach.
“This conversation is over,” I said. “You have serious control issues and I recommend you seek therapy to work through them, because clearly I can’t help you.”
“Okay, I have control issues, and you have serious trust issues, Erica. We could probably both use some therapy.”
I glared at him. At least my trust issues were rooted in legitimate experiences. Blake’s control issues no doubt came from his success, which, as far as I knew, was hardly traumatic. Beyond, I’d always hated therapy. His insinuation that I needed it, throwing my words back at me, made me feel small. Flawed.
I grit my teeth and wrapped a towel around me. “Go to hell.”
“Baby, this is who I am. I’m hardwired this way. And if I’m trying to take control over the situation, please understand that I have very solid reasoning for it.”
I took a deep breath, determined not to turn this into a bigger disaster. “It’s simple, Blake. I need checks and balances in my life. I’m not about to go all in on you, mind, body and business, and then have you ordering me around like your little submissive puppet. It would break me. It would break us.” I pulled the plug and my energy drained with the bathwater. Too much had happened today, and I was seconds from going nuclear on him. “It’s already breaking us.”
“You’ve made your decision then?” His calm voice sent an unexpected shiver of fear through me.
“It’s final. Deal with it.” I retreated to the bedroom to find my comfy sweatpants.
Blake was eerily silent, and when I returned, he was gone. I sighed with relief until a wave of sadness flooded me, making me weak to the bone. He was gone. I collapsed onto the bed. The line between my loneliness for him and my overwhelming anger blurred as I stared at the ceiling. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time and we’d work through it.
What did this mean for our relationship? What if this was it? The end? How could I go on without him? A little part of me had wanted him to leave, or at least let up on the investment subject, but now that he was gone I couldn’t explain the strange emptiness I felt.
I tried to convince myself that once everything was said and done tomorrow, we could find a way to work through it. I prayed we could.
I tossed and turned all night. I woke in a cold sweat, disoriented when I realized Blake wasn’t with me. I ached for him, to have all this upset behind us.
I fantasized about sneaking into his apartment with the key he’d given me, seducing him. Everything made sense when he was inside me, f*cking me with reckless abandon, taking us to a place where nothing else mattered. Now nothing made sense. I ran my hands over my misted skin, wishing his hands were on me. If I could just feel him with me, maybe I could know that we weren’t through. That he still loved me as much as I loved him, despite his maddening disposition.
I fought the urge to go to him as the night rolled into the dawn. A surge of anger sliced through me, that he could do this to me. He’d possessed me like no one ever had. Exhausted and overwrought, now I was sick with need, literally losing sleep because I couldn’t—wouldn’t—give him what he wanted.
I wanted to give him what he wanted, more than he could handle even.
But at what price?
* * *
I poked into Sid’s room where he slumbered noisily. I didn’t bother to whisper. “Sid, I need a favor.”
He turned over and grumbled, “What?”
“I met with my dad yesterday, and he invited me to his place on the Cape this weekend. I’m not sure if I’m going to stay over, but I was hoping I could borrow your car to get down there?”
He got up, still fully dressed from the previous day. “Here,” he said, handing me the keys. “You don’t really know him that well yet. Are you sure this is such a good idea?”
“He’s running for public office. I’m pretty sure he’s not an axe murderer, Sid. But I appreciate your concern.”
He shook his head and fell back onto the futon, disappearing under the blanket.
I threw an overnight bag into the silver Audi and adjusted the seat to accommodate my much smaller frame. Sid lived on next to nothing, but he spared no expense with vehicles. I eased gently out of the space where he was parallel parked. If a knick or ding resulted from my borrowing the car, he’d grieve for weeks.
I found a space close to Max’s office and celebrated inwardly. This was a good sign. I checked myself in the mirror. Closing the deal wasn’t contingent on my presentation anymore, but I wanted to look great for the occasion so I wore a tight white sheath dress, cinched with a thin belt, and nude pumps.
I stepped into the reception area of Angelcom, looking and feeling like the fully-funded CEO I was about to become. The receptionist escorted me into the boardroom where I’d first presented.
I found myself alone in the room again, remembering how Blake had driven me crazy from that first day. I winced at the thought that what happened today could change us forever.
Max entered the room, and his bright white smile pushed away my doubts.
“Today’s the big day!” he said.
A giddy laugh escaped me. Max’s enthusiasm was easily contagious. I met him for a polite hug and he kissed me on the cheek again, but I was feeling so jovial I didn’t care.
“So where do we begin?” I clapped my hands together, eager to sign something, until I saw the stack of papers he dropped onto the table that rivaled an issue of Italian Vogue. Dozens of multi-colored sticky tabs stuck out from the stack, indicating where signatures were needed. A wave of anxiety seized me. “All of that?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. This is why these things take so damn long to prepare.”
“I’m not signing away my first born, am I?” I settled into a chair across from him, worried now that I wouldn’t have the time I needed to actually review any of this. What if I found something that could be a deal breaker? What if I had no idea what the hell I was signing?
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” a voice said.
I swiveled in my chair as Blake entered the room. Dressed in jeans and a navy button V-neck, he looked ruthless despite his casual attire.
“What can I do for you, Landon?” His voice was clipped and his lips thinned into a tight line.
“You can give me a moment with Miss Hathaway.”
“Certainly. We’ll be finished here shortly.”
“Now.”
“Is there a problem?” Max said through gritted teeth.
“You’re the problem.”
With that, Max stood. His chair rolled back and hit the glass window with a thud. He glared at Blake, then left us and shut the door behind him.
My heart beat wildly, a combination of the sheer relief of seeing Blake superseded by a gnawing fear that the deal with Max now hung in the balance. If Blake was going to be this difficult with my affairs, why would Max even want to bother with me now? He’d be signing on for months of irritation.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.
“I didn’t want to do this, but you didn’t leave me much choice.”
“I told you, I’ve made my decision. It’s basically done.”
“Not nearly. You haven’t signed anything yet.”
“I fully intend to, so I suggest you take your compulsive tendencies and leave us be.”
“It’s too late for that.”
Oh no. I hesitated. A sinking dread overwhelmed me. “Too late for what?”
“I’ve wired double the funds you need into your business account.”
I tried to formulate words, questions that needed to be asked, but instead I stood there, slack-jawed and gaping at his audacity, which true to form, never failed to completely amaze me.
“Don’t bother figuring out ways to give it back, because I’ll block you from getting investors anywhere else in the city,” he continued. “You know I can.”
“What if Max still wants to invest?”
“He won’t,” he said with finality. “No deal goes through here without my authorization, and he won’t be getting it.”
“Why are you doing this?” My voice quivered. He’d effectively backed me into a corner. I could think of other avenues, but I knew he’d already out-thought them.
“I care about you more than Max ever will, though God knows he’ll try to tell you otherwise.”
“This isn’t about your goddamn pseudo-sibling rivalry with Max. This is my life you’re playing with. This is everything I’ve worked for, and you’re ruining it!” I slammed my fists on the table before I stood, facing him.
“This is not nearly close to what you’ll achieve. The fact that you think I’d f*ck it up for you just shows how completely naive you are.”
I slapped him, hard, the sound slicing through the room the way his words sliced through me. My hand stung with the contact and my breath left me in uneven pants.
Shock registered on his face, but he hesitated only a second before cupping my nape and kissing me, bruising my lips with his. I fisted my hands at my sides. No. He wouldn’t wear me down. Not this time. I wouldn’t let him.
I went to war with myself, fighting how he made me feel as his lips crushed mine, owning me with every plunging kiss. You’re mine. I heard his voice in my head. A moan escaped me and I realized I was kissing him back, my body responding beyond my control. I trembled with all the love and hate I felt for this man. I hated myself for it. For wanting him the way I did.
He’d worn me down.
He’d won.