“I see,” I say even though I don’t. I never knew my mother, and my father and I never talk about anything that matters. He’s been calling me for the past week and I’ve been sending his calls to voicemail. But unlike usual, he isn’t giving up. I’ll have to eventually pick up and find out what he wants, but that’ll be next week. I have enough going on right here.
Penny clasps the glass tightly as she begins to ramble. “Does everyone have to be the same? I like my life. I have friends. I get paid for doing things I enjoy. No there isn’t a lot of money in it, but I don’t want to be locked up in an office. I’m not my sister. Why isn’t who I am enough?”
“I’m sure your mother only wants the best for you.” I don’t fucking know, but it is the best I can come up with. This is normally where I ghost out of a room and leave people wondering how the hell I got out of there without being noticed.
She puts the water down, pulls her legs up, and hugs them to her chest. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’re probably exactly who your father dreamed you would be.”
“I barely talk to my father. I wouldn’t know what he wants, and I don’t care either. I have a bunch of missed calls from him to prove it.”
Her eyes fly to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” I shrug coolly. “I told you I’m a dick.”
“You’re not, you know.” She lays her head against the couch again as if it’s too heavy to hold up. “You don’t want to get hurt again. I get it. I never want to pick up when my mother calls. It’s always the same recycled conversation, and I’m always wrong. She thinks my sister should have asked someone else—anyone else—to secure this apartment for her. She doesn’t know a thing about this place, but in her mind I’ve already failed. My sister is as close to my mother as I am to my father. We were just split down the middle. Alliances were formed. It’s sad.”
“That’s why staying here is so important to you.”
“I guess. I want to prove to Kylie just because I don’t want to be the CFO of some company, doesn’t mean I’m not reliable. What a boring world it would be if we were all carbon copies of each other.”
She has a point, but I’m not about to admit it. Everything she’s saying is challenging the blueprint I’ve designed for my success, and it gets under my skin. Instead I lash out in true Dalton fashion. “I’m sure getting drunk showed your sister.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not tonight. Tomorrow when you’re feeling better.”
“I walked right into that one.” Her eyes open, and she surprises me by smiling then laughing. Every time I think I have her figured out, Penny has me stepping back and scratching my head.
When her nose wrinkles up and her eyes pinch closed with uncontrollable laughter, I join in. It’s a good release. Not the kind I’m used to, since my clothes are still on, but there is still something about it.
The door of my apartment opens. Ben. Fucking Ben triumphantly waving a key card. “Did I miss something?”
Penny pushes herself off the couch. “Just Dalton being Dalton. Thank you so much for whatever you had to do to get my key.”
Ben hands her the card and looks like an obedient puppy who’s just performed a trick. “It was nothing. Someone had put a freeze on your account that was coming up as an error, but I removed it.”
“That’s amazing,” Penny says as she pockets her key then looks around for her purse. “Shit, I left my purse with Robert.”
“I’ll get it,” Ben says and bolts out the door. I can practically see his cape with a superhero symbol flapping behind him.
I shake my head in disgust then stop when I catch Penny watching me.
“What’s wrong now?” she asks as though I’m the one who’s high-maintenance.
“He’s too fucking nice. People like that get taken advantage of.”
She steps toward me as if I’m a puzzle she needs to look at closer. “You think being nice means you’re weak?”
“That nice, yes.”
She gives me a long, sad look that has my heart pounding in my chest. “You’re wrong, Dalton. My father is the strongest, most loyal person I’ve ever met. He’d give the shirt off his back to a stranger he saw in need. Ben reminds me of him.”
“Then maybe you should fuck Ben.”
I have no idea why I said that. Yes, I do, but I don’t like what it says about me.
She walks to the door of my apartment, opens it, then looks back at me. “Relax, Dalton. You don’t have to push me away; I’m already leaving.”
Fuck.
Fuck this.
Plenty of people have questioned my values and my tactics—the set of rules I’ve lived by—but it’s never mattered to me before. I’ve kept my focus, and my upward trajectory has continued.
But now? “You don’t have to push me away, I’m already leaving.” Why the fuck am I now worrying I’ve hurt Penny? Since when do I give a shit? Damn it.
I pace my apartment a few times. I want to go next door and apologize, but I don’t. I want to gather up all the idiots who have been bothering Penny and pummel them. When I run those options through the logical side of my brain, the part that’s gotten me this far in life, I know it doesn’t add up. I don’t fight other people’s battles if it doesn’t help me, and I don’t do apologies well. But the only thing worse than the potential fallout is standing here doing nothing. Shit.
I take out my phone and call one of the ringleaders of the Save the Bachelor Tower campaign. “It’s Dalton.”
“Do you know what time it is? This better be important.” There’s an edge to Luther Green’s voice and something about that makes me glad I called.
“It is. Pass the word that the juvenile pranks end tonight. No more key issues. No more canceling her cable. We want her out, but without a lawsuit for harassment. You guys are being ridiculous.”
Luther lets out a breathy laugh that tells me he thinks he has something on me. “You sure you still want her out? I hear you’ve been getting pretty cozy with her.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
“I defended you today, Dalton. I assured everyone the only reason you’d get close to her would be to get information we could use against her. No one cares if you screw her while you do it. A couple of the other guys plan to make a play for her too. She’s a hot piece of ass, but don’t forget which side you’re on.”
I want to say I’m not on anyone’s side, but that’s no longer true. “This doesn’t have to get ugly, Luther, but the way you’re handling the situation is wrong. If that puts us on opposing sides, so be it. Be very careful about how you proceed.”
“Who do you think you’re threatening? Do you know who my father is?” Luther sounded suddenly like a petulant child, and it emboldened me to think of him playing this card already. I never had the luxury or desire to use my father’s name as a show of power. What Luther doesn’t understand is that it’s a crutch not a strategy. Daddy can’t save the day all the time.
“I do know your father. How proud will he be when he has to bail you out of jail for harassing Penny whatever her last name is?”
“For what? I’ve done nothing—yet. But if I were you, I’d watch your client list. Rumor has it your West Coast supplier may raise his rates soon. If that happens, other suppliers will think you can’t negotiate deals. They’ll know you’re weak and come in for the kill. Don’t know who is spreading that rumor around town, but I sure hope it’s not affecting your business. She’s not worth your company.”
That two-faced fuck. “My company will be fine, but your face may never look the same if I see it anytime soon.”
“Then you’d be the one in jail.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, and it’d be worth it,” I say, gripping my phone so tight I can hear the case crack.
As I assumed, Luther can’t muster a reply. I’ve known so many guys like him in my life. Daddy’s money can buy you a lot, but it can’t get you a set of balls. That’s for damn sure.
br />
I hang up and notice Ben in the doorway of my apartment with Penny’s purse. “You were in jail? What for?”
“It was a long time ago.”
Ben makes a face, half curious and half concerned. “Not for”—he motions across his neck like he’s cutting it—“you know?”
I ignore his question. “Something tells me this is far from over, and it’s going to get ugly. If I were you, I’d stay out of this.”
Ben tucks Penny’s purse beneath his arm and cracks his fingers dramatically. “I’m not afraid.”
Idiot.
“You should be. They have the resources to fight dirty.”
“That didn’t stop you. I heard what you said. I’m glad I was wrong about you.”
I shake my head. He wasn’t wrong at all. I’m a fucking coward when it comes to getting emotionally involved in anything. In my experience it never pans out. I’m sure I’ll regret it this time as well. “Penny’s waiting for her purse.”
Ben throws it to me. “I’m sure she is.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re welcome,” Ben says cheerfully before he turns on his heel and walks away. I hold the small beaded bag in my hand like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. I’m not that far off. This whole thing has the potential to blow my life to pieces.
When Penny doesn’t answer the door, I try the handle and feel a wave of protectiveness flood me when it opens. She needs to lock her door. A building-wide security system and a doorman doesn’t mean it’s safe. Some of the bastards in this building can’t be trusted. Especially now.
Quietly calling her name, I make my way through the apartment with her purse still clutched in my hand.
“Dalton?” Penny calls from the bedroom in a sleepy, far-off sounding voice.
“Yeah,” I reply not wanting her to be scared. Leaning against the doorjamb of her bedroom, I take in the masterpiece that is her small body curled on her bed. She’s half covered by her blanket, and I cross the room to fix that. There’s room for two under the plush pink covers, but I know better. There’s no way in hell I can get that close to her silky skin and not nibble my way up and down her body. My self-control is at an all-time low, and it’s fucking with my head.
Instead I lay her purse down by her side as her breathing falls to a steady rhythm that tells me she’s out cold. Slipping out of her room I close the door and then I’m . . . alone. Pictures of her and her sister when they were kids already line the fireplace mantel.
Reluctantly I move in closer, curious to know if Penny’s bright, magnetic smile has always been the same. My eyes run across the images, and her stories ring true. Even as a little girl, her sister, Kylie, looks like she’s all business. Penny is a mess of tangled hair and ripped jeans in most of the photographs. She’s the quintessential image of a fun, carefree childhood. Kylie is only in pictures with her mother and Penny only with her father. There is a clear and distinct line that divides them, and it’s painfully apparent just as Penny said.
I shake my head, pushing out the psycho-babble bullshit that has nothing to do with me. Her drama is not mine to care about. I have ten voicemails from my own father I’ve put off listening to for the last couple weeks.
Turning away from the mantel, I nearly topple over the small table she’s moved next to couch. Stacked on it are a couple magazines and some documents. Listening to see if she’s stirring, I rifle through the papers. Now I’m officially prying. Soon I’m holding her lease in my hand.
Before she came here I would’ve known exactly what to do with it. In the hands of a powerhouse New York attorney, this lengthy lease agreement could be manipulated to evict Penny easily and quickly.
The document is still in my hands as I let myself out of Penny’s apartment and lock the door behind me. She’s too trusting for her own good. Too sweet. My impulse to protect is taking over my rational thinking. Something in my brain is going haywire.
That becomes even more apparent the next morning when I meet with a few of the best men and women on my legal team. I slide the copies of the lease over to them and lay out my expectations. I want it gone over with a fine-tooth comb. I want to know every weakness, every loophole, anything that could be exploited.
A battle is coming, and I can only plan my counterattack by knowing every single weakness we have.
We? I’ve never aligned myself with anyone.
The word strikes me hard.
One of my lawyers wants to know what steps I want them to take if they find a loophole. I tell them to tell me immediately then just sit on the information.
I don’t have a plan for what to do next. I’m still stumbling over the we.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dalton
“Do you need another ride?” I ask as Penny crosses the lobby to catch up to me. I don’t bother looking like her request would bother me. She’ll see right through me, as she seems to be able to do, and I’ll admit it—I’m beginning to look forward to the time we spend together. I live on a razor’s edge of adrenaline in order to push myself toward success, but when I’m with Penny after work, as we have been the last three nights, I feel calmer. Whatever we’re doing together feels important—that’s the only way I can describe it.
“I’ve got to go back to my dad’s.” Penny sighs, and I can tell something is on her mind. Of course she’s still smiling, but I read into the little crinkle she gets between her brows.
“Is he sick?” I ask, gesturing to the waiting car ready to take me to the office. She doesn’t specifically ask me for a lift and I don’t directly offer one, yet she hops in and my heart races. She has her reservations about me, but when push comes to shove—she chooses me, just as I choose her.
“He’s losing his business,” she says, gulping back emotion. “He’s been losing it for the last twenty years, but this time I think it’s really beyond his grasp. He can’t fix it now.”
“What business is he in?”
“He owns an employment agency,” Penny says as we settle into the back of the sleek black car. “I have a hard time calling it a business. He basically runs a charity, which is wonderful, but acts of kindness don’t pay the bills.”
“Has he tried—?”
“Don’t bother.” She sighs. “I’m convinced he doesn’t want to fix the business. I’m not saying he wants to lose it, but he is dead set against being a sellout.”
“He doesn’t want to make money? I’m not sure I’ve heard that before.”
“My father is what you would call a free spirit. And do you know who doesn’t appreciate a free spirit? The IRS. Or the bank.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“I’m a lot like him. We’re simple creatures who try to live our passions and be happy. But he’s never been able to keep the business running on his own. My sister normally swoops in and fixes everything when it gets bad, but she told him the last time would be it. That was two years ago, and she’s sticking to her guns. They aren’t even speaking.”
“Isn’t your sister loaded?”
“She is,” Penny replies in a faraway voice, and I brush her fallen hair off her cheeks. It’s intimate, and it makes me yearn for more. I have to touch her.
“My father was never willing to take her money though. She’d come in and help negotiate his debts. Talk to the banks. Raise the prices on his services. But none of that is sustainable. He cuts everyone a deal, people who are down on their luck. He’d bumble it up and then find himself right back where he always is. He has the biggest heart, but I guess sometimes that’s not enough. Now he’s just living in a hot mess.”
“Hey, that was my father’s second residence too. Maybe they’re neighbors.” I laugh, trying to make her smile. I’m not good at this—trying to make someone feel better. I don’t let my father’s failures impact my emotions, but I can relate to having one who screws up a lot.
“I try to help him, but I’m hopeless at that stuff. I’m just like him. Maybe too much.”
“I thought you loved
your Bohemian lifestyle. Carrying your own groceries, cooking your own meals. Roughing it.”
“For the record,” she says, looking over at me with a silly grin, “those are not novel ideas that make me some kind of hippie. Most people handle their own stuff. But watching my dad lately, I’ve had to take a good look at my own life. There’s a chance I’ve taken some things to the extreme. I’ve had some really promising job opportunities over the years, and I’ve turned them down. I’ve had success at my fingertips and intentionally let it slip away.”
“Intentionally?”
She’s quiet for a moment then shrugs. “When my parents split up, my sister aligned herself with my mother very early on. They looked at my dad and his silly failing business as if he were a fool. He barely had enough money to get by. My mother was a corporate executive when very few women were. She was a fighter. Exhausted. Driven. Laser focused. To them, my father was an embarrassment. They didn’t count his happiness as a currency. So I picked his team. And I was all in. I love a lot about my life and my principles, but sometimes I wonder if I’ve let my allegiance to my father drive too many of my choices. I wonder if I refused to work any places where I thought it would make my mother or sister proud. If I was on their side, wouldn’t that mean I wasn’t on my father’s? It’s pretty twisted.”
“Not really,” I say, shifting on the seat so I can face her. “Half the shit I’ve done in my life was to spite my father. Who cares what the motivation is, as long as you end up where you want? Are you where you want to be?”
“I’m not sure,” she admits, nibbling on her lip. “I’m still trying to figure that out. I want to be free, but I also want to be stable. If I’d have been a little more like my sister I could be helping him out right now. Not knowing what to do for him scares me—and makes me sad.”
Damn. Vulnerability. My goal was to get her to admit she isn’t all sunshine and lollipops, and look what it gets me. I don’t do sad and I stopped letting fear win a long time ago. I deal in facts and problems with clear cut decisions. Emotions cloud what should be simple. Any solution I offer her won’t be something she wants to hear. I could find him an investor. I could loan him some money. How much could it really cost to keep something that small going?