King of Wall Street: a sexy, standalone, contemporary romance (27 page)

“Everything’s good.” I twisted my hands in my lap. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here—”

“I don’t blame you for King & Associates canceling our meeting, if that’s what you think. I should never have asked for you to be replaced. I just thought it would be easier if . . .”

“What?” Easier? Easier for him maybe.

“But all’s well that ends well. You’re here.”

The conversation wasn’t going as I’d planned. I’d expected to ask him questions, for him to answer in half-truths and lies and I would call him on it. I had no idea what was going on. “I’m not following you. King & Associates canceled their meeting with you?”

“Yes, which is fine. We have excellent in-house resources.”

Why would Max do that? JD Stanley could have made him considerably richer than he already was.

“Yesterday.” His eyebrows pinched together. “You didn’t know?”

Thoughts of Max canceling the pitch created a swirl of guilt in my stomach. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted? I shook my head. I needed to focus on the here and now, not get distracted by thoughts of Max. “Can I ask you a question?”

My father looked a little uncomfortable but nodded.

“Why didn’t you offer me a job at JD Stanley?”

There. It was out. And even if I didn’t get an answer, I still felt a sense of relief from finally asking the question.

My father’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He sighed and his head fell back on the chair. For a few awkward seconds we sat in silence before he finally said, “Look, I know I haven’t been a very good father.”

I’d never expected to hear those words. My stomach swooped and instinctively I glanced around for a trashcan, looking for something to throw up in. I’d opened a door and there was no closing it now—I’d lost control of this situation and felt as if I were tumbling down a rabbit hole.

“I never got it right with my kids when they were young. I didn’t have much of a relationship with any of your mothers, and I always felt like a fraud whenever I spent time with any of you. It was easier to throw money at a situation and go about my day.”

“A fraud?” I asked. Wasn’t that really him simply saying he felt uncomfortable and so took the easy way out?

He raised an eyebrow. “No one could ever describe me as a family man, and your mother was a good person.”

“I know.” I didn’t want him talking about my mother. “She did the best she could.”

“Which was pretty damn good given the way you turned out. You’re a beautiful, bright, accomplished woman. And I can take none of the credit.”

We could both agree on that, but it was uncomfortable to hear it. I’d expected an argument, for him to justify what he’d done. Instead I was getting a mea culpa. I didn’t know what to do with that.

Was he just telling me what I wanted to hear?

“It’s a shitty excuse, but I guess I didn’t feel I could do anything but make the situation worse. The best way I knew how to contribute was through money.”

Did he know he’d also contributed to my insecurity, my pain, my lack of trust? He focused on what he gave rather than what he’d taken away.

“And I was young and I was working twenty hours a day and . . .” His eyes went wide. “You know. I liked the women. So I guess I felt like a hypocrite then, trying to play the family man.”

“I guess the first time you got a girl pregnant that would make sense.” My mother had been the first woman he got pregnant, but he should have learned his lesson.

He nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t just made mistakes in my life, I’ve repeated them. But I have to answer to my other children about their situation. I’m describing my reasons for acting the way I did with you.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

He sighed. “Why would I offer you a job when you so clearly held me in contempt? It was different with your brothers—they allowed me to make amends.”

I laughed. “Right. So this is my fault.” Typical. I’d expected him to shift the blame so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m not blaming you, but somehow I built a relationship with your brothers.”

Jealousy tugged at me. Why had they ended up with a father?

“I’d hoped we would do the same, but while you were at college, you cut off all contact.”

“And you threw money at the situation by setting up the trust?” I asked.

“I guess. I thought that at least if you were okay financially for the rest of your life then I didn’t have that guilt to live with.”

“So it wasn’t because I’m a girl? Woman.”

“What?” He chuckled, a look of surprise on his face. “Of course not. You made it clear you didn’t want a relationship, and if I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t want a constant reminder of how I’d failed with you. It’s hard knowing your kid hates you, sees you as some kind of monster. Even harder to know it’s in some ways justified.”

I couldn’t speak. Had I let the lack of job offer fuel my resentment? Or had those feelings been there all along? “Is that why you told Max to drop me from the team?”

He took a deep breath. “Partly. But also because I couldn’t engage a company for a large amount of money when my daughter was involved in the account.” He held up his hand, indicating he hadn’t finished. “I know I employ my sons, but I don’t manage them, and their salaries are considerably less than what I would have spent with King & Associates.” He swept his hand through his hair. “I should have mentioned something at lunch, or called you afterward. It was just that things were civil between us and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

He laughed and put his head in his hands. “It’s like I lose all sense of judgment when it comes to you. I get things wrong however hard I try.”

Everything he said made sense, but instead of feeling relieved or happy, I felt cheated. As if someone had stolen my justification for hating him. He’d fucked up, gotten it wrong. But the way he explained it, his actions no longer sounded malicious. He was either the best liar I’d ever come across, or he was just a flawed human being. Maybe there was a bit of both there. It was as if I’d been suffering a chronic pain for years and, now it had just disappeared, I’d forgotten who I was without it. My hatred had become such a part of me that without it, I didn’t quite know what to do. Still, Grace was right; I felt lighter from talking to him.

“I never wanted to hurt you, but I just didn’t know how to avoid it,” he said.

I squinted, trying to rid my eyes of the forming tears. He had hurt me. Over and over. But I didn’t think he was lying when he said it hadn’t been intentional. I nodded. “I believe you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t tell you—” He paused and just nodded. “I’d like a chance to do better, if that’s something you’d be interested in? Maybe we could spend some time together, have dinner or something.”

He was asking for a chance to make amends. Even now when I’d not spoken to him for years. He didn’t blame me, didn’t express any resentment—he was just sad and regretful and it neutralized my anger toward him.

I took a deep breath and stood. “I need a chance to digest this.”

He stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked around his desk toward me, his gaze trailing the floor. “I understand.” He thought I was giving him the brush-off, when really I was fighting against years of rejecting him before he could reject me.

“Maybe I can stay for a drink and a sandwich next time.” My words pushed out of my dry throat but I was determined to speak them. I couldn’t say it but I was sorry. I’d held on to the feelings I’d had as a child and given them adult importance and justification. And although those feelings hadn’t just disappeared, I saw them for what they were—pointless and unhelpful. He’d been right when he said I’d seen him as a monster. I was old enough now to know that fear of monsters was as much about imagination as reality.

He lifted his head. “I would love that. You just decide when.”

I turned and we headed out of his office.

“Maybe next weekend,” I said.

“I would like that very much,” he said, his voice cracking at the end.

As we got to the top of the stairs, I turned to him and smiled. “Save your knee—I’ll see you on Saturday.”

* * * * *

“Oh, yes and one final thing,” I said as I gave Grace a rundown on the conversation with my father. Good friend that she was, she’d handed me a glass of wine within ninety seconds of me walking through the door. “He said Max canceled his appointment.”

Had Max done that for me? I tried to think of other possible motivations. I knew how much he wanted JD Stanley as a client.

“Wow.” Grace’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “So now you can make up with Max.”

I almost choked on my wine. “What are you talking about? Max is history,” I said when I recovered. “I need to move on.” The truth was, Max was never far from my mind. I wondered constantly about who he was with, what he was working on. I felt like an open wound, constantly being doused in vinegar. I did my best to not let it show. We hadn’t known each other that long, and I felt stupid for taking it so hard.

Grace sighed. “I’ve known you a long time, Harper. You can’t fool me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“If Max was history, you wouldn’t have moved out of your apartment.”

“I’m avoiding him because it’s over.” Part of the reason I hadn’t turned on my phone was because I didn’t want to find Max
hadn’t
called or texted.

“No, you’re avoiding him because you don’t want it to be. First, you quit your job because he didn’t choose you over a business deal,” she said, holding up a finger. “Then you were practically catatonic for the first few days after you split and although you’re moving around now, your neutral gear is still set to mope.” She held up a second finger. “You won’t turn your phone on because you’re avoiding his messages.” She held up a third finger. “My point is, he’s the more handsome version of the best-looking man on the planet, and you are in love with him.”

“In love with him?” I snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” This wasn’t what love felt like. This was hurt, betrayal, anger. Wasn’t it?

“And the fact that he pulled out of the JD Stanley pitch, well that’s—”

“That’s what? He should have done that to start with.”

“Are you crazy? Max was right; the client gets to choose their team. If you two were just banging, he would have told you to suck it up. He clearly cares about you.”

Had I expected too much from him? I’d felt so strongly for him; I’d just wanted him to feel the same.

“You were waiting for him to fail, to live down to who you thought your father was,” Grace said.

I’d started off thinking Max King was an asshole but discovered someone very different was just below the surface, someone caring and generous and special. My heart squeezed as if it were stretching after a nap.

I missed him.

“He’s not my father.” But had I expected him to fail? Even looked for it?

“So turn on your phone. Actually, no, I’ll do it.” Grace scrambled to the kitchen. I’d left my phone on top of the refrigerator. I knew if I had it in my room at night, I’d be tempted to switch it on.

Grace wouldn’t dare turn it on without my say so, would she?

Of course she would, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. I was sick of missing him. I longed for Max’s arms around me, his wise words telling me everything was going to be okay, for the way he didn’t have to do anything but hold me to make me feel better. My stomach churned.

She tossed my beeping phone at me. “I guarantee you’ll have a hundred messages and voicemails from him. Not many men can break through that invisible force field you have around your heart, my beautiful friend. Don’t take it for granted. Make it right before it’s too late.”

Chapter Sixteen

Max

“You seem off,” Scarlett said as she popped an olive into her mouth. She was supposed to be helping me prepare dinner, while Amanda and Violet hung out in the living room. Instead, Scarlett sat at the breakfast bar, drinking and watching me cook. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You always think I’m off,” I replied, but she was right. I hadn’t slept well since Harper walked out of King & Associates ten days ago. She’d just disappeared. Our doorman hadn’t seen her; she wasn’t answering her phone. She could be in a ditch, or just ignoring me.

“True, but this is different. Tell your sister all about it. Is it work?” She gasped. “Have you become addicted to gambling? Lost all your money? Did you find out you have a horrible disease of the penis?”

I sighed. “Stop it. I’m just busy at the office.” I started to slice the tomatoes, ignoring Scarlett. I was usually so good at hiding what I was feeling. Was my worry for Harper beginning to show?

“That’s bullshit. I know busy-at-work off.”

I glanced up. “It’s nothing. A girl at work disappeared and I’m just a little concerned. That’s all.”

“What do you mean disappeared? Like kidnapped?”

I rolled my eyes. “You always assume the most dramatic scenario possible, don’t you?”

She slipped off her stool and grabbed the wine from the refrigerator. “Well, if it’s got you all somber and mopey with dark circles under your eyes, I’m assuming something really bad happened.”