Page 209 of The Fire We Make

He shoved past her, knocking her shoulder in the process, and dropped the roses at her feet before walking into the office.

Joy stood stock still until she heard the door close behind him. She turned, ensuring he was gone, then stooped to rescue the heap of flowers scattered around her stilettos.

She scooped up a few stems and straightened the petals.

She stared at them, touching the pendant on her chest.

Sighing, she dropped the flowers and stood, smoothing down her Prada dress. She squared her shoulders, strengthened her resolve, and walked inside.

Joy fingered the rose pendant around her neck mindlessly. She sat in her father’s office, at her place to his right at the conference table.

The board of advisors surrounded the table, with Jermaine occupying Cleve’s old seat. They all discussed strategy and planning for circumventing the trouble Cleve had gotten them in.

This was what Joy wanted. An opportunity to prove herself and reclaim her place. Now that she had it though, she couldn’t focus. Her mind wandered away from government bribes and legal strategy and towards New York.

She wondered what was going on at the firm.

She thought about Mel.

She thought about April.

She thought about Ace and if he missed her as badly as she missed him.

“What do you think, Princess?” her father asked, that same soft pride now back in his voice and eyes since he needed her.

Joy blinked hard, tearing her subconscious away from New York. Away from him.

All eyes were on her as she swallowed, racking her brain for context of the conversation she hadn’t paid attention to.

“I…” she started. “I think we need to take a conservative approach. Right now, we still have enough plausible deniability to argue that Cleveland was working on his own, and he’s not here to refute that claim. If we move too aggressively, they’ll look harder. Right now, we move like innocent business owners, eager to assist law enforcement in investigating what put our business in jeopardy. We’re victims,” she said coolly, finally finding her groove.

A quick glance around the room revealed that it was working. The attentive stares from the board and nod of approval from Glock let her know she was on the right path. Her father’s expression was stone, but he didn’t interrupt, so she took that as a sign to keep going.

“Last I checked, the head of the port authority plays golf with city councilman Mathis. A donation to his reelection campaign may warrant him putting in some good words on our behalf to get our license reinstated while the investigation takes place.”

Byron nodded then. “Good. I like that plan. Jermaine, you’ll handle the councilman.”

Joy’s eyes narrowed. “And what about me?”

“You have a wedding to plan,” Jermaine cut in. “Again.” His grin was smug and teasing as he met Joy’s scowl.

“You’ll work on retraining the team. They got real lax under Cleve’s leadership,” Byron cut in before the two could begin arguing.

Before Joy could protest further, he moved on, his decision final.

The rest of the meeting was a blur around her. Her ears caught onto words every so often, but her mind drifted off to New York.

Joy was young when her mother died but this was as close a feeling to grief as she’d experienced since then. She longed for the life she’d found in New York but her mind reminded her that she was where she was supposed to be.

Nothing about her time at home felt like it had before. She felt out of place, like she was wearing the skin of a stranger. She’d achieved her goal, been welcomed back, but still felt like she’d lost.

Her mind pondered this for the remainder of the meeting, her head and heart at odds.

It took everything in her not to book a flight back to the east coast but she stood firm.

Her father’s office emptied out after the meeting but Joy hung back. She ran her hands across the mahogany wood of Byron’s desk.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved, the same floors that held the blood she’d spilled and taken in the name of her training and the success of the Cartel.