Page 38 of His to Love
I was also simply missing Tyson.
“I spoke to DPA this morning, Gabriella.”
My father’s voice snapped me back to the present, where I was sitting in my family’s kitchen helping Clarissa prepare the afternoon luncheon for two of his business associates. I didn’t know who was coming, but I was hoping it wasn’t Malik.
I might not have been interested in him, but I also didn’t want him to see me with flour in my unwashed hair.
“Detroit Premier Agency?” I asked, my eyes instantly widening. It was the crème de la crème of event planning agencies. It was a small company, run mostly by the owner, Simone Pillar, and had the most exclusive client list in Detroit. My mother used them frequently. Because of its notoriety, I hadn’t even tried to apply for a job there. It was out of my league, and I was too inexperienced to do anything other than work in their mailroom. “Why?”
My father walked toward me. Disappointment flared in his narrowed eyes as he took in my messy face, hair, and casual, comfortable clothing.
He blinked, wiping away the disappointment. “Simone is hiring a new assistant, at least temporarily.”
My jaw dropped. “And?”
He had the audacity to roll his eyes, as if my impatience annoyed him. My blood began to boil. “Because you’re my daughter and for some inexplicable reason you seem to think you want some sort of career, I gave her your name. Working with Simone would give you the experience you want, and then you can stop this foolishness.”
My teeth ground together so hard I feared my molars would crack. Shaking my head and looking away, I pulled in a deep breath. “I want a career because I want to work for a living.”
I stopped. He would never understand, and any more time spent discussing what I actually wanted with him was wasted breath. “And I want to find something on my own, but thank you for mentioning it.”
His eyes cut to mine and narrowed. “Our name opens doors. You should consider using it for your benefit every once in a while.”
In Colorado, I had paperwork, illegal, I knew, that named me as Ella Cochran. At least Cochran wasn’t made up; it’s my mother’s maiden name. It also allowed me to stay hidden, and for a brief moment when returning to Detroit, I’d wondered if I should use it when looking for jobs. The fact that I didn’t want to be hidden anymore was one of the reasons that prevented me from doing so. My father’s reminder was the other.
Next to me, I felt Clarissa shift closer. Sensing her silent support boosted my confidence.
“I will earn whatever position I’m given…sir,” I bit out at the last moment. I might have been confident, but I wasn’t a complete idiot.
He slid a business card with a time scratched in black pen onto the countertop, all while his irritation remained clear in the tight lines around his lips. “Just see her. The job could be a gift to you or a favor to me, depending on how you look at it, but perhaps you’ll earn the spot if you’re good enough.”
The backhanded compliment stung on my cheek like a well-aimed slap. He spun on his heels and left the room as quietly as he arrived, leaving me fuming.
“Damn him.” I slapped my hands on the countertop. Flour from the pie crusts we’d been making wafted into the air, and I sneezed as it hit my nose.
“He cares, bella. He just doesn’t know how to show it correctly.”
Did he? I was beginning to wonder. As a teenager, I could write off his attitude as a reaction to my teenage angst. But the more I was around him now, the more I was beginning to believe the man simply didn’t have a soul.
“Not keeping me away from my family would have been a start, or I don’t know…not shoving a man in front of me when I don’t want him…or I don’t know, not belittling my desire to have a simple freaking job.” I huffed and then wiped a hand across my forehead.
He didn’t care about me, only about what I could do for him when it suited him.
Reality was a bitter pill to swallow, and I felt tears sting my nose. All my life, I had tried to please him and make him proud of me. All my life I’d been groomed to be the kind of woman who would stand on the arm of a man like Malik and smile, all while hiding secrets of deals I never wanted to know about. Monday night I had seen a small glimpse into that world as an adult and it proved to me exactly what I’d known for years.
I wasn’t like them.
I didn’twantto be like them.
“I do not agree with him,” Clarissa whispered, resting her hand on my shoulder. I reached up and covered her hand with mine, giving her a gentle squeeze. Her touch and quiet words calmed me slightly. “But do not forget that he, too, is under much stress right now. He cares, someday you will see.”
I swallowed tears that wanted to form, refusing to show emotion.
“Are we done with the blueberry filling?” I asked, changing the subject.
Clarissa gave me that play, squeezing my shoulder once more before turning toward the stove. While we finished the pies, we discussed the weather, fashion, and the gardens out back that were blooming beautifully. I listened while she instructed me on how to make her homemade marinara sauce, only laughing when she still refused to share her “secret magic herbs” that were, no joke, in a spice jar with that exact label printed on it and nothing else.
We were just removing the finished pies from the oven and cleaning the kitchen tables when the doorbell rang, announcing that my father’s associates had arrived. I took a quick scan of my body and saw I was essentially ghostly pale thanks to my inability to stay clean while baking—or cooking—and cringed. I debated hiding from whomever may be arriving when I heard footsteps headed in our direction. Then they stopped.
