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ADDISON
“You can’t be serious.” I almost choke over the words, quickly shifting my eyes to his. I’m sure mine are full of rage, but his only show impatience.
My hands are firmly planted on the edge of his desk as my upper body bends toward him. To a passerby, I must look like a caged beast, ready to pounce. They wouldn’t be wrong.
I should have known this would happen. I should have walked in here this afternoon knowing I’d be met with a brick wall of apathy. My father has never taken me seriously, and it’s just like him to go out of his way to disregard my feelings and make me feel incompetent all in one fell swoop.
I clench my jaw, pushing away from the desk like it’s caught fire. My teeth latch onto my wobbly lower lip, and I desperately will myself to keep my shit together. Having a nervous breakdown in front of the very person who taught me that emotions are for the weak isn’t how I want to wrap up my shitty day.
“There’s no room for feelings in business,” he’s said to me more times than I can count. But despite his best efforts, I’ve always been an emotional butterfly. Truthfully, I do wish I was better at hiding my emotions, but that isn’t an accomplishment I’ve managed in my twenty-seven years of being Robert McCormick’s daughter.
Graduating top of my class at McKinley Prep School, one of the most prestigious prep schools in the nation? Check.
Obtaining a full-ride scholarship to Stanford and graduating in three years? Check.
Busting my ass at Yale Law School—his alma mater, no less—only to return home to be treated like a secretary by him and Ethan? Fucking check.
Reining in my anger and acting like the lady he wants me to be, though...that could use some work.
“Addison,” my father drones, “I understand this situation is certainly less than ideal—for everyone involved. Instead of throwing a tantrum loud enough for the entire office to hear, I think you should take the rest of the day off. Have Sophia book you a room at the Waldorf and...”
I tune him out as I sit down on one of his fancy leather chairs. I will the sharp pain in my chest to ebb, hoping that, for once, I can be what he wants of me. Controlled. Unfeeling. But no matter how much I wish it away, my anger still strangles me.
I’m sure I look ridiculous to him, my coral-colored sweater haphazardly falling off one shoulder, my hair tie barely keeping my mane of waves contained. There isn’t a drop of makeup on me save for my bright red lipstick. I’m in leggings, which I put on in anticipation of the dance class I’m teaching tonight. I’m certainly not dressed for the office, and I know he doesn’t approve.
He doesn’t have to say a word, though; I can practically hear his thoughts shouting out at me. I’ve heard it all plenty of times before. He’s probably wondering where he went wrong—what he did to deserve such a petulant and disrespectful child. In his mind, he did everything in his power to raise the perfect daughter.
He hired the very best nannies, used his money and clout to get me into the best schools, and allowed me to work alongside him at the LA law firm he built from the ground up.
Unfortunately, he forgot to be a father along the way. And even in this moment, when I need him to put me first just once, he’s failing to do so.
A throat clearing beside me drags me out of my thoughts.
I lazily turn my head to the side and peer up at Ethan. He seems as unimpressed with my outburst as my father, but at least he has a pinch of worry marring his beautiful features. I wonder if that concern is for me or if he’s only worried about his own ass right now.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we keeping you from something?” I turn back to my father before Ethan can get a word in. “Why is he even here? I came in to discusshis extracurricular activities and how they affect his future with the company, and you think it’s a good idea to include him in said conversation?”
“What the hell does my personal life have to do with the firm?” Ethan sputters.
“It’s called ethics, Ethan. Morality. Something you’re obviously lacking, but arguably one of the most important traits for a lawyer.”
“Arguably,” he says dryly. If he has more to say, he chooses not to. When given the choice, Ethan always takes the easy way out, and right now, silence is his best weapon.
My father shifts in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. I’m sure that has more to do with his waning patience than the fact the man before him destroyed his daughter’s heart.
“As you’re well aware, Addison, Ethan is a partner in this firm. I will not remove him from our employment just because you two are bickering.”
“Bickering?” It takes everything in me not to jump to my feet, but I do my best to school my features and keep my tone as even as possible. “He cheated on me. In our home.”
I leave out the intimate details. That less than four hours earlier, I walked in on him spread out on Vera—my gorgeous red velvet couch—thrusting his dick down the throat of our yoga instructor neighbor, Becky.
I snap my head toward Ethan. “How long has this been going on? How many times have you had another woman in our home?”
He has just enough decency to feign shame, then he ruins it by opening his mouth. “Addison, please. It was just this once.” His tone is distant, bored, irritated—anything but apologetic. “I made a mistake.”
My last thread of patience snaps. “A mistake is shredding an important document, Ethan. Not getting sucked off by a teenager in the home you share with your future wife.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He frowns at me as if I’m the ridiculous one. “She’s twenty-one.”
