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Now it was her turn to smile. “It doesn’t matter. I hold his proxy.” She navigated to the copy of the notarized document on her tablet and left it up on the screen. “Does anyone need me to zoom in on his signature? Do you need the name of the notary on the seal?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
Her voice hardened. “This is my company, gentlemen. You don’t want to hear my ideas, fine. You know your way to the exit.”
Tom’s round face grew red; the blush even peeked through the strands of his ambitious comb-over. “Arrogant bitch. President or not, you can’t expand without money, and I refuse to fork over one red cent to finance your ridiculous little fantasies.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have my own money.” Even if she hated herself for how she got it. “This meeting is officially adjourned. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
***
She waited until the last board member was off the property before she hopped in her car for the short drive to her father’s office. It was a shot in the dark since she didn’t make an appointment, but it was a conversation she didn’t want to have over the phone.
Eleven stories high, Atlanta City Hall loomed in familiar majesty in front of her. Her father had told her stories of its history so many times, she knew them by heart. The high rise was built back in 1930 on the site General Sherman took as the headquarters of his occupation before his March to the Sea. It was on the National Register of Historic Places and served as the headquarters of Atlanta City Government.
Including the mayor’s office.
Her heels clacked across the ornate lobby with its pillars, cornices, and marble wainscoting. She no longer found it impressive, if she ever had. Only a fool would ever reveal such a thing to her father, though. He lived for the pageantry of it all.
She rehearsed her speech in the elevator. It had to strike exactly the right balance of strength and vulnerability, independence, and deference. And even then, there was no guarantee he’d give her words any more credence than he’d give to the average constituent. Maybe less, since he didn’t think he needed to curry her vote.
Her father’s secretary gave her a stiff nod when she stepped through the double glass doors, and she walked straight to the small settee on the right. It was the most comfortable seat in the room, and she could be here waiting five minutes or five hours depending on his schedule and the mood he was in.
She went over the points in her head again. One: she was ending things with Nathan. She’d promised her father six months with the guy so he could use a private connection to cultivate political gain. Her part of the bargain was fulfilled. Two: she was going to spend Thanksgiving with her brother. Holidays at the Griffin estate were more about pomp and circumstance than family bonding anyway.
Maybe she should lead with the Thanksgiving thing. Rip the band-aid off.
“Miss Griffin?”
She lifted her head and locked eyes with the sour-faced woman at reception.
“The mayor will see you now.”
He stood from behind his thick oak desk as she walked into the room. Beauregard Griffin oozed southern charm and class. His charcoal three-piece suit was impeccable, his smile warm and practiced. An article inAtlantamagazine said he was reminiscent of Gregory Peck in hisTo Kill a Mockingbirddays. He liked the comparison so much he had the article framed and hanging on the wall in his study at home.
His appearance was like the fancy lobby downstairs. It was cultivated to impress and intimidate, but it was really all window dressing.
“A surprise to see you, darling.”
She stepped into his embrace and offered her cheek before taking her seat. “Thank you for seeing me. I know how busy you are.” Polite bullshit, and they both knew it.
His eyes narrowed, and she pressed forward.
“I need to give my regrets for Thanksgiving. It’s important I spend it with Mike and his family.”
“Absolutely not.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.
A hint of what she was really feeling seeped into her words. A tactical error, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Dad, he’s going through a difficult time right now. You know how badly he was hurt in his car accident.”
“Last I checked, he had a devoted wife to cut up his carrots. He doesn’t need his stepsister to do it for him.”
She gritted her teeth. She never called Mike her step anything, but her father always made the distinction. “I want to be there, Dad.”
“Of course, you do.” He shot her an icy glare. “Even when you were a girl, you acted like they were yourrealfamily. You’ve always chosen them over me.”
She wouldn’t argue over what constituted a real family. Her father thought no one should come before blood. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, no one should come before him. “I’m not choosing one over the other—”
“Right. I’m making the choice for you. I’ve already invited Nathan, and I can’t very well spend the holiday with him, without you.”
She took a deep breath, sucking back the venom she wanted to spew at the mention of his name. Things were delicate with her father; he still hadn’t entirely made good on his end of the bargain they’d struck. She tugged back on the Ice Queen veneer she wore like a second skin. Letting it slip in the first place had been a stupid mistake. “We never discussed Nathan joining us.”
