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I grit my teeth. “Not too great.”
“Shit. I’m sorry,” she says sympathetically. “What’s going on over there?”
“It seems like my father is trying to acquire a controlling stake in Dynasty. It’s pretty obvious that he’s been planning this for a while. If I’d known about it sooner, I might have been able to run better interference.”
“Do you know why he’s doing this?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “If you ask me, it’s clearly just out of spite. My father is an asshole. This is low, even for him, but I can’t say it doesn’t fit his track record.”
“So what’s the plan? What are you working on?”
“We’re trying to figure out a way we can hold off the takeover, but none of our options are great, and none of them are guaranteed to work.” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I fucking hate my father.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie says. Her voice is genuine, sweet. I can tell she’s really trying to comfort me. It almost works. “He’s such an asshole.”
“That he is,” I agree, then do my best to change the subject. “How was your day?”
“Oh, well. Not too great over here either.” She laughs, a little uncomfortably. “Everyone in marketing was a little stressed today. I guess news travels.”
“It’s not a huge company.”
“No. And Hannah was saying all of this stuff about us. Somehow, she figured out that we’re seeing each other, and she keeps trying to insinuate—”
I grimace as my phone vibrates in my hand, pulling it away from my face to glimpse the screen. There’s another call waiting from my general counsel.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m sorry, Spitfire. I have to go.”
“Oh.” I can hear the hurt in her voice, and my heart sinks. She’s disappointed. Of course she is.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “My general counsel is calling me. It’s important.”
“Okay,” she says, her tone deflated.
I hang up the call and take a second before picking up the new one. I slam my fist onto the top of my desk, breathing out slowly through gritted teeth.
I can’t seem to do anything right. I feel like everything I care about is falling away from me, slipping through my hands.
Steeling myself, I raise the phone back to my ear. “Declan speaking.”
* * *
Sophie
The next morning, I wake up after an uneasy night’s sleep. I sit up in bed and try to center myself, to shake the unsettled feeling within me.
Talking to Declan last night helped me calm down somewhat, but the way the call ended so abruptly left me feeling off balance all over again.
I know he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. There’s so much more on the line than just his own company and his own money. If Johnathan gets his way, hundreds of people could lose their jobs. The shareholders might lose everything they’ve invested.
It’s not personal, I tell myself. I keep repeating that as I get up and get ready for work. It’s not personal. I don’t want to blame this on Declan. It’s Johnathan who caused this problem.
When I get to work, I keep my gaze rigidly in front of me, trying to just get to my desk, get my work done, and get out of here. After all the bullshit that happened yesterday, I’m not really in the mood to socialize with my coworkers.
Of course, I have the tragic luck of getting into the same elevator as Hannah. The doors open, and as soon as she spots me, she shoots me a snide grin and steps to the side to make room for me. I have no choice but to enter; it would be a really bad look if I waited for the next one.
As the doors slide shut, she glances over at me. “Damn, you look exhausted. What’s the matter? Did your boyfriend break up with you last night?”
I decide to ignore her completely. She’s just being a vicious, petty bitch, and there’s no reason to give her what she wants.
