Chapter 72
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 single-handedly take over and I don’t like it anymore. I’m angry at him for making me do this. Angry at the way my emotions are up and down, and I can’t stick on hating him or missing him.
I know it’s part of my job and I know I’m capable but still … I detest it. I know more about the Carrero empire than I could have ever imagined, I’ve so many staff at my fingertips it’s terrifying. I converse with lawyers, security, HR, and other crazily titled employees constantly, and sometimes I wonder how my head hasn’t self-imploded. I’m only twenty-six and to have so much resting on my shoulders at this age, is a huge 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, my thoughts, and 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 who’s 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 … down at main reception … security doesn’t want to send them up.” She hesitates. 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 obvious relief at my calm response.
* * *
I check over my appearance in the elevator mirror, 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 often, I 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 faceless red head 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 seated 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 peeved me off further. I frown and nod, a little irritated at her lack of capability.
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, that faded gray stubbly face, and crooked mouth, aged but still recognizable. The shifty eyes and awkward posture of that creep from my teen memory.
My father.
I inhale sharply and step back, trying to conceal my revulsion.
“Emma.” He grins at me as though we’re old friends and I just openly stare at him, speechless. Momentarily dazed.
“I know I shouldn’t have just shown up but …” he starts.
“Why are you here?” I snap, tone as cold and shocked as I feel, cutting him off with a glare and raspy voice.
“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 to us. 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 regains instant composure.
“Please come with me, we can talk somewhere private.” I turn on my heel briskly, gripping my fingers together harshly, my nails biting my flesh and ignore it. I want to throw up, my skin bristles as I sense him move behind me into the elevator and I take my stance as far away as I can. Trying hard to breathe.
“You don’t know what it means to me, to actually have you see me.” He slurs, a lop-sided grin on his face but it does nothing for me.
“Stop talking,” I hiss as the doors close on us and face him aggressively now that we’re concealed. Fury revealed.
“You can fuck off back to whatever hole you climbed out of, you hear. When I get off this elevator, I’m going to have security remove you.” I spit, venom thick and pure in my voice, not concealing 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 coming over me and tears hitting the backs of my eyes as I am clawed with devastation.
“No, no … I’m not here for that, really.” He scrambles, his eyes darting anywhere but on mine, he looks confused. Dare I say it … Disappointed.
Yes, that’s right, asshole, squirm!
“Really?” my voice is dripping with hatred, unconcealed disbelief that he would stoop this low.
“I just want to get to know you … I missed so much.” He’s flailing, he knows he’s dive bombing, his voice lacking conviction. His eyes searching the elevator for a point to focus on.
“You’re a fucking liar … You had your chance when I was fourteen … Where were you for the last twenty odd years?” I bite. Emotion stinging my eyes, heart aching badly as I try to reign it in.
“I was, uummm, ehhh.” He’s raking his hand through his hair evasively. Probably shocked that I’m nothing like my mother. If I was, I would be lying in a bed beside her in Chicago, thanks to Ray Vanquis. The elevator pings and the doors opens, but no one’s there to walk in. I turn on him again unable to calm down at all.
