6. Griffin

Ipace through the kitchen after another sleepless night, and the tiredness catches up on me. All I want to do is crawl back into bed.

I could use a nap that lasts a year, though I know that isn't going to happen.

For the past week, Cora's face has been my nightly companion, dancing behind my eyelids in an endless reel.

Dreams of her circle around, playing over and over, driving me to the brink of madness. Nightmares of losing her haunt my dreams.

Even now, I"m wide awake, and the only thing I can think about is walking into the office on Monday morning and catching another glimpse of her. I want to keep talking to her about what happened between us.

I must admit I'm not sure what else to say either.

Maybe I want a bigger reaction from her that screams she wants to kiss me again as much as I want to kiss her.

Bad idea. Stay far away from Cora Walsh.

I sigh and open the fridge, pulling out the bottle of cold brew. Hopefully, a good dose of caffeine will distract me from my thoughts and help me focus on everything I need to do today.

After pouring myself a big glass, I sit down at the kitchen island and pull up one of the contracts I have to review on my tablet.

The longer I read, the more the words blur together. Yawning, I highlight one of the clauses that don't make sense before moving on to analyze the next.

I hum to myself, trying to keep myself focused on the work in front of me.

However, a notification about my father setting foot on my property pops up, and every focused thought flies out the window.

I sit straighter in the chair as the beep echoes through the house, letting me know the front door is open.

The sound of the door slamming shut follows. My father's heavy footsteps thud down the pale hardwood floors.

When he appears in the kitchen with his disapproving frown, I feel like I'm a young, vulnerable child about to get scolded again.

His bushy eyebrows knit together as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

He stands tall, his entire presence sucking the air out of the room.

I push the tablet to the side and nod my hello. "I didn't realize you were coming by this morning. The sun is barely up."

Dad stares at me, his thin lips pressed together. The wrinkles at the corners of his mouth grow deeper.

"Griffin, we need to discuss some of the things I've been hearing about the company lately," he begins.

"I'm sure I'm not aware of everything you've been hearing." I take a sip of the cold brew, trying to wake myself up enough to deal with whatever his spies have been telling him now.

Though Dad passed the law firm to me a year ago, he won't keep his nose out of the business.

Some of the senior lawyers still report to him regularly, but he refuses to tell me which ones keep throwing me under the bus.

Walking into a business where everyone is set in their ways and trying to change things is challenging. Running the firm has been nothing but an uphill battle.

When I think I'm starting to get somewhere, Dad comes storming into my house like a boulder, ready to roll me over.

Dad glances at the contract, which is still up on the tablet. "I've been advised that you're starting to drive the business into the ground."

It feels like he's dropped a bomb in the middle of the kitchen. I struggle to keep my expression neutral. Dad is a cold man who believes that emotions do nothing but cloud a person's judgment.

I sit taller, rolling my shoulders back and trying to relieve some of the tension coursing through me. "I don't know who told you that, but your source is wrong. The firm is doing better than ever, and we have an outstanding group of first-year associates this year."

The corners of his mouth curl into a mocking smile. "You think bringing on associates is how to build a successful law firm? Those professionals I left you with are the best in Maine—the lawyers, paralegals, secretaries… You have a goldmine at your fingertips, yet you keep bringing in more people instead of poaching experienced lawyers from other firms."

I down the remaining cold brew, wishing I had spiked it with something stronger. "And why is that a problem?"

"You spend too much time and resources training when you could have people winning cases and signing contracts. They could be making you more money, but instead, you're hell-bent on producing a new generation of lawyers."

"It's an investment I'm making for the future. If you think I'm so terrible at my job and driving the business into the ground, why did you bother to hand it over to me in the first place?" My tone is sharp as I stand, looming over him.

Despite being several inches taller, all it takes is one cold look from my father to make me feel like the smallest person in the room.

Dad scoffs and walks over to the window, looking out at the pool glistening in the sun. "If I thought you would ruin the firm, I never would"ve. However, what's done is done, and we must focus on what's to come."

"And what does that future look like?" Sarcasm drips from my tone, though I know he will ignore my blunt words.

The best way to get through these conversations is to put up with them until he leaves.

One of these days, I'm going to find the strength to tell him where to go and how to get there, but not yet.

Too many people who work for me now are still loyal to him. If he told them to, they would leave the firm, and then I would be left with a failing business.

Dad turns to face me, crossing his arms. "Griffin—when are you going to settle down? You need to get serious about the company, and you can't do that if you are coming home and taking care of everything here, too. You need to find a wife and hire some staff. Have kids to carry on the Blake family name."

If my jaw could hit the ground, it would. My blood boils as my hands curl into fists.

I've never been so close to throwing my father out on his ass before, but I'm considering it now.

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to make this worse. "Do you realize how outdated that is? I don't need a wife to manage the household and pump out children. I don't need a maid either. I have more than enough time on my hands to scrub my own toilet."

Dad rolls his eyes. "You're a fool, Griffin. I thought I raised you to be smarter than this."

"Nannies raised me." My tone is bitter, and I hate it. At thirty-two, I should have moved past the resentment of my upbringing. Yet, I'm not. "And I will not be getting married or having children. You can kiss those old-fashioned notions about my future goodbye."

Dad's face darkens to a bright red. "You are going to drag my family name through the mud if you keep up with your ideas of your future."

"This family was ruined a long time ago." I walk to the front door and open it up as he follows me. "I think it's time for you to leave so I can get back to business. I have things to do today, and I can't do that if you're sitting here preaching to me how my life should be."

"I'm only telling you what's best for you."

"No. You're telling me what works best for you. I refuse to follow in your footsteps." I hold the door open wider as he stands in front of me. "I appreciate the advice, but it's not going to be my life, even if you wish it were. We both know that I'm a disappointment to you. Just let me be one, and everything else will be fine."

His lips press together, his gaze flashing with anger. The vein in his forehead throbs as he walks out the door without another word.

I slam the door shut behind him, slumping against the wall.

It is too early in the morning to deal with his shit.

Right now, going back to bed and trying to get some sleep sounds like a good idea.

Maybe—just maybe—I'm actually asleep right now, and the meeting with my father was nothing but a nightmare.

I scrub my hands down my face before pinching my arm.

Nope. I'm awake.

One of these days, Dad is going to have to back off and let me run the business the way I see fit.

He needs to stop showing up at my door to inform me that everything I'm doing is wrong.

I don't know what gives him the right to demand that I get married, either. I've never considered settling down and signing my life away to another person.

It's too much commitment and expectations I know I will never be able to live up to.

The sooner he realizes I'm better off alone, the better.

I push off the wall, ready to go back to. A knock at the door stops me in my tracks.

My blood freezes in my veins. There is no way that it's my father.

Just seconds after leaving, he wouldn't be back for another round. He usually likes to have the final word.

Dad may have been offended when I kicked him out, but he couldn't be coming back for more.

As I stand there, I consider not opening the door. It would be easy to pretend I didn't hear the knock.

Dad wouldn't bother knocking. He'd let himself in with his key like he already did.

I force myself to open the door, shocked to see a courier standing there—certainly not someone I expected to see on a Saturday morning.

"Griffin Blake?" The courier looks up at me, a manila envelope tucked beneath his arm.

"Yes."

Am I about to be served? Did Cora go to a lawyer and decide to press charges for what happened between us that night?

The courier takes the envelope from beneath his arm and hands it to me, saying, "This is for you."

I take the envelope, and he spins and walks down the wide front steps. His delivery van idles in the circular driveway as he gets in and types something into the screen on his dash.

A few moments later, he is gone, leaving me with the envelope.

I head back inside, a slight tremble to my hands as I pry open the envelope.

If I get sued by an employee, I'll never hear the end of it. My business will be ruined, and my father will make my life a living hell.

He'll spend the rest of his life insisting that giving me the company was a mistake, and he'd be right.

I've spent too much time trying to prove him wrong to have all my work thrown away over a kiss.

As I open the envelope, thick, smooth-to-the-touch paper greets me. I head to the kitchen and turn the envelope upside down, dumping out the paper onto the counter.

I watch my worst nightmare unfold in slow motion as the marriage certificate with my signature lays perfectly still on the counter.