Seduce by Missy Johnson Page A

receive.
    Dad’s booming laugh filled the restaurant. “You?” he said incredulously. “What the hell do you know about kids?” he laughed.
    Probably about as much as you , I thought. I so badly wanted to react, but instead I simply smiled.
    “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, reaching for my drink.
    Dad flagged the waitress over, Little Red, who looked as though she’d been waiting for the chance to approach me again. “Darling, can you get me scotch, please, no ice. Do you know what you want?” he asked me.
    I shook my head. “Not hungry. I had a big lunch,” I muttered.
    “Suit yourself,” he said, scanning the menu. “Let’s see. I’ll have a beef Wellington, medium rare, and please tell the chef to try not to burn the pastry this time.
    Little Red nodded, her eyes wide as she jotted down Dad’s orders. I swallowed a laugh. It was good to see that my father intimidated some people more than me. She walked away, my father’s eyes glued to her ass.
    “So, are you going to tell me what this is about?” I asked dryly, taking another swig of my drink and forcing his attention back to me.
    “Yes, the Delenski deal. They’re on the edge of clinching the deal, so I just need you to help push it over the edge. Nothing too hard, just doing what you do best.” Another dig at my lifestyle. He was on fire tonight. What was with people and their need to constantly remind me? It irritated the hell out of me. I wasn’t five; I was capable of remembering, goddammit.
    “Fine,” I said evenly. “When does she get here?”
    “They arrive on the thirtieth. She’ll be here for four days, and need you to make those four days memorable,” he said, raising an eyebrow, just in case I hadn’t caught his meaning. I laughed, shaking my head at the lengths my father would go to for money.
    “Fine,” I agreed. I stared at my half-empty scotch, my nails working around the rim of the glass. An awkward silence hung in the air over us like a bad smell. This is what it was like: when talking about business stopped, there was nothing left to say. I pushed my chair back and stood up, not in the mood for small talk.
    “I’m sure you won’t mind if I leave. It’s been a big day and I need to get a jump-start on tomorrow’s appointments.” At the mention of work, my father nodded and waved his hand. That was the end of our meeting—no ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later’, just a wave of the hand to let me know he was done with me.
    I stormed out of the restaurant, pissed off at my father, at myself, and at Belle.
    I was so fucking pissed at Belle. Or was I pissed off at myself for feeling the way I did about her? I wasn’t sure. As I walked through the cool, brisk air towards my car, I saw my life for what it was: a mess. A big fucking mess. My nights were filled with nameless women and empty bottles of scotch, anything to try and fill the void left by my mother leaving, and my constant need for my father’s approval. In the midst of all this I’d met Belle, which had turned out to be a disaster.
    I reached my car. I was probably not fit to drive. In fact, I probably hadn’t been fit to drive from Luke’s house to the restaurant. Fuck it, it’s not like I lived far away. Turn left in a block, and fifty meters along, turn right, then left, and I’m home.
    I got in the car and started the engine before I could second-guess myself. I managed to complete the drive without totaling the car. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. This was one of the many times I was glad to have more than one property in London. No matter where I was, I was sure to be close to home.
    The first thing I did when I got inside was pour myself another scotch. The second thing I did was text Little Red my address. Dinner had been a bust, so I had some time to fill. I peeled off my clothes and jumped in the shower, trying to wash away the last few days. I refrained from jacking off—I’d save that shit for