Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Yes, I have a good plan of action today. After I go car hunting, I’ll work a few hours doing customer service support from the comfort of my own home if I have time this evening. Then I’ll get showered, put on the red dress I wore on my first night at the Wicked Horse, and meet Asher there—where I’ll let him lock me up in the stocks to do God knows what to me.
I’m not sure whether I should hate myself or not, but I’m looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 9
Asher
My father holds his drink up, the amber-colored bourbon lit up from the candle burning on the table. “Great job on the Tyndall deal.”
I hold my drink up. “Thanks.”
We sip and share a meaningful congratulatory smile. The waiter appears, returning my credit card and the receipt for me to sign, which I do after adding a hefty tip.
“You continue to amaze me,” he says, but not necessarily with beaming pride in his son. It’s more in an incredulous way, like he can’t believe I pulled off something he would not have dared yet again. And that’s because no matter my achievements and the fact I continually make this company more successful each year, he just doesn’t want to believe I’m as good as or better than he ever was. His ego won’t let him.
When I do a quick check of my watch, I note it’s closing in on nine-thirty. I need to get going. Got a hot night planned with Hannah and the stocks.
“Your sister seems to have the gala well organized,” Dad says nonchalantly, but I can hear the faint tone of ingrained disappointment in his voice. Even though I make him envious of the things I’ve accomplished, my father has never disapproved of me the way he does Christina.
She’s the epitome of everything our mother was. While my father was fond of his wife and loved her in the best way he could, he expected both his children to be like him.
Christina’s first major failure was in taking her ivy-league education to become a public-school teacher. Her next was in giving away most of her trust fund to charitable organizations. The killing blow was in marrying a man who had no greater ambitions in life than to also be a public-school teacher like his wife.
As such, my dad and sister don’t have much to do with each other. He wasn’t much of an influence on her growing up, anyway, not the way he was on me.
But the one thing he will always support her on is the charity gala she has taken over putting on each year since our mother died. He buys one of the insanely expensive dinner plates, and always brings some ridiculously young, sexy woman with him as a date. He’ll even give a speech on how proud he is of her accomplishments with the money that’s raised each year, and then after the event is over, he’ll go back to ignoring her.
It’s something that used to bother me, and I’ve had words with my father over the years for not trying harder with his daughter. It was Christina who finally told me to give it up. Not because it is a losing battle, but because she doesn’t feel like she is missing out on anything. My dad has never been a doting father—to either of us, actually—and she truly doesn’t feel any loss. She accepts dear old Dad for what he is, but then again, so do I. Although, I’ve just now stopped being incensed with him on my sister’s behalf and only at her insistence that I do so.
Still, I use the opportunity to get my digs in at my dad by laying my praise of Christina on thick.
“As always, she’s done an excellent job with the gala. But she’s also doing some amazing volunteer work with high-risk students. Mom would have been so proud of her.”
My father grunts as he stares down into his drink glass, merely an acknowledgment he heard me, but not agreeing with me. “Christina could be so much more.”
“She’s more than either of us,” I retort, feeling a wave of anger and protectiveness for my twin course through me.
“Now that’s simply not true,” my father says with a smirk. “Running a multimillion-dollar-a-year company is a bigger accomplishment, and you know it. Your sister is a failure.”
“I’m curious,” I say in a silky-smooth mocking voice. “Do you feel yourself to be a failure since I’ve made this company infinitely more successful than you ever had when you were at the helm?”
I didn’t expect to cow my dad, but I’m surprised when he comes back swinging. “You’re better because Michelle died. All your rage and guilt have been funneled into your work, and it’s yielded positive return. I was hamstrung with a wife and kids, but you’re free to give all your attention to Knight Investment Group.”