5. Blindsided

CHAPTER 5

BLINDSIDED

KALLIE

Empathetic eyes greet me as I exit the elevators on my first day back from Montana. The assistants at the front desk ask politely how my summer was. I'm positive they know what's going on, how I cancelled my fancy wedding—with a half million dollar budget—a week before the wedding day and spent the past few months hiding away.

I walk past them, into the corporate office for the Austin Capitals, with my head held high.

It didn't help that my big blowout with Dad was right here in his office, where everyone could hear me flip out. He was pissed that I'd canceled the wedding. Called me selfish for not standing by my man, that I should have forgiven his minor indiscretions, and told me to grow up.

Is that what my mother does for him? Forgive him and his failings while he tangles with the devil in one affair after the other? At the same time, he puts up with her drinking. Sorry, but that's not the type of marriage I want.

To make matters worse, I was supposed to start working for Dad after the honeymoon. As our arguing boiled over, he wanted me to patch things with Jeremy, threatening me if I didn't. I was tired of his condescension, of the way he treated Mom, of his expectations of me, and for favoring my ex-fiancé more than his own daughter. I'd had enough and fled all the way to Montana, to Dixie and to a summer away from my life to clear my head.

I pass by everyone with barely a smile and march through the bullpen of cubicles down to Dad's corner office. The whispers of the workers in my wake don't deter me. I'm ready to take the new position and prove to Dad I'm fine without Jeremy.

Only a sight stops me short. A maintenance worker stands at the door to the office next to Dad's. He attaches a new silver name plate to it and wipes it clean with a microfiber towel. I finally read the name when he stoops to pick something up.

The plate reads—Jeremy Whittaker.

The oxygen leaves my body, abandons every cell.

Under it, the worker applies another plate with the label "Director of Marketing."

"What the hell, Dad?" I storm into his office and slam the door behind me. I used to love the smell of his leather chairs, the rich burled wood desk, and his pricey cologne, all the scents of his power and prestige. Now, it makes me ill.

"This isn't personal, Kallie, but Jeremy pitched some fresh ideas to me last week, and I had to make a decision. He's the best man for the job." The best man, not candidate, I note him saying. "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll put your business degree that I paid for to good use. You'll be working for him in charge of the team's PR."

"Why, Dad? You know we broke up." I think I even stomped my foot, so angry at him and this situation. "How dare you do this without discussing things with me first."

"How dare I? You weren't here. You were up in Montana having a good old time. You're just like your mother, running away from all her problems."

I suck in a breath. This news blindsides me. I make my way to the door. "I can't work for my ex. I refuse."

He rushes to my side before I can twist the knob, seething. "You will marry Jeremy. You will take the job I kindly give you. If you don't, then I take away everything you have including your trust fund. You'll get nothing from me when I die."

I don't want anything from him, but I've never been without. Except this summer, when I lived with Dixie and got to see how someone my age with a mediocre job and an apartment made ends meet. It wasn't so bad. We had cheap meals she brought home, leftovers from her struggling cafe she opened after college. I helped her every afternoon, waiting tables, washing dishes. I started her social media accounts for her business. Box wine suited us fine, especially better when under the stars on the roof of the building each night. And we were happy with the simplicity of it all.

I had Dad's money still going into my bank account, but I didn't want to spend a cent. It was security though, knowing that if something bad happened I could fall back on it. Although I'd left Dixie a check, a chunk of my savings, for her to find after I left since she refused to take money from me.

The security of his money proves too strong as I stare into his mean eyes. Once Dad makes these decisions, I long ago learned, he doesn't reverse them, and I don't have the patience to argue today.

I need to regroup and figure things out, face him again another day. He must sense it and let's me go, so I retreat out of the office. About halfway down the rows of cubicles, fuming, I run into the new director of marketing himself. Jeremy stands before me, smiling, his hazel eyes clear and bright, for once.

Our summer apart looks good on him.

His light hair is cropped short in a stylish business type of cut. Clean shaven jaw shows off soft smooth skin that never saw a blackhead, ever. He almost takes my breath away, transformed back into the man I first fell in love with.

That was long before I found out about his addiction to painkillers and alcohol. He'd begged me not to tell my father about it.

With a coffee mug in each of his hands, he opens his mouth and arms as if welcoming me home. I stop him before he can speak, hiding my hand up.

"Don't. I'm mad at you. How could you do this, taking my job? Some of your ideas were probably even mine that I'd discussed with you last spring." I ball my fists onto my hips, just getting started, ready to unload an even bigger tirade. In front of everyone.

He holds a coffee mug to me, like a peace offering. I could smell my favorite cappuccino that Dad stocks in the office kitchen here. The milk is frothed perfectly with a cinnamon swirl on top.

Screw him if he thinks I can be bought with his gorgeous face and a the best coffee. I ignore it and spin around him, but he follows me to the elevator.

"Kallie, stop. Look, Dad had been interviewing candidates for the job, with no intention of ever giving you the top position."

"What?" That stabs me in the heart. Plus, I hate how close the two of them are, how he started calling my father "Dad" long before we were even engaged. He's like the son Dad always wanted, and you know fucking what? They deserve each other.

"I couldn't let him do that to you, so I expressed my interest. The idea grew on him. You'll thank me when we're married because now we have a solid foot into his business."

"Married?" In sheer terror, I turn on him with wide eyes and wondering what planet I just landed on, where my ex thought we'd still be together after everything that happened.

The office grows quiet, all eyes watching us like we're some reality TV show on Bravo.

"Come with me." He sets the mugs down on someone's desk and yanks me hard by the elbow, steering me into a nearby office. One where my name appears on the door with the title "PR Manager" underneath. All the letters much smaller than the letters that now appear on his door. I'll bet I'm paid quite less, as well.

He practically shoves me into the room and slams the door shut. I cross my arms, rubbing my elbow, huffing over to the window. At least I have a decent view of the capital building, but at what price to my soul if I stay and put up with this?

He rushes up behind me, softening, running his hands down my arms, daring to touch me. "I missed you," he whispers.

At least his breath doesn't reek of alcohol like our last conversation, the one where I told him I couldn't marry a drunkard and a substance abuser. And a cheater.

My stomach roils. I shift out of his hold, and run for the door. If he follows, I don't know. I don't stop running until I'm at my car.

For an hour, I drive around Austin until I finally stop at our house. The beautiful million dollar custom built home I thought we'd be happy in after the wedding, where we'd raise our children, complete with a family dog named Buster.

That dream shattered the day I caught him fucking my maid of honor.