Page 13 of Royal Cocktail

It had to stop. She swallowed, then stood, wanting to be at the same level as her father. “But … honestly, I wanted to … talk to you … about it.”

He father sat behind his desk and leaned back, his hands under his chin, forefingers steepled. “Oh?”

Skye cleared her throat and remained standing, keeping her feet planted and her hands by her sides. Her father was very attuned to any signs of nervousness, and he considered them weaknesses. When he caught associates squirming and shifting, there were always consequences. His theory was if they acted nervous in front of him, how would they act in front of opposing counsel? Give something away through nerves, and you might end up screwing a client.

“Having me … speak is a … mistake. You’re trying to … gain new clients for … our international law practice. But … Daddy, I don’t …practice international law. I do appellate work. So … having me present this paper is … ridiculous.”

“I don’t disagree with your assessment, sweetheart,” he said, as waves of relief flooded through her. “But I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”

The relief turned to ice, and she froze. “Am I?”

“You wrote an incredible paper on agnatic primogeniture, and its role in the international community, particularly with regard to countries working to amend their constitutions to change that particular mode of succession.”

“I know what I wrote.” She stiffened as she spoke. It had been an odd topic for her law review article her final year of law school, but under the circumstances she’d been extremely interested in the subject. Now, of course, she regretted it.

First, Leo had broken her heart, and writing the article hadn’t been the balm she’d hoped. Worse, she’d been reminded of him every day that she was researching and writing. And those were a lot of days.

Now, she had a second basis for regret. Because apparently that paper was the lever her father needed to put her front and center so that she could—according to his plan anyway—just get over it.

Considering all that, she should’ve slapped Leo’s face even harder last night.

Her father remained silent, and she squirmed. She knew this was a mind game, forcing her to speak, and though she didn’t want to give in, the words came anyway. “Daddy, I don’t … practice that. It was … just for law … review.”

“And that law review article was extensively published and received numerous awards and accolades.”

“But it’s not what we do.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“Oh.” She sat down, then drew a breath. “Well, it’s not … what I do. Appellate law, remember? You can … share the article, but I … don’t need to speak.” Dial it in, Skye. She was having trouble controlling her breathing. Just the thought of standing on that stage—of speaking to all those people—it was both mortifying and terrifying.

She straightened her shoulders and put all her effort into slowing down and breathing properly. “Even if … the firm expands the international group, I … won’t be involved. So … why speak? It’s not … like that … article will rake in … clients.”

“One day, you will very likely be a partner in this firm, and you will be involved even if it’s not your practice area. On top of that, you’re wrong.”

She shook her head, confused. “Wrong?”

“I know you thought that it was ridiculous to add you to the symposium agenda, but we actually do have a potential new client because of that article and the promise of your participation in the symposium.”

“Oh.” She sat back, thrown off about that revelation.

“Come meet him.” He tapped a few keys on his computer, then turned his attention back to her.

“What? Now?”

“He’s just arrived. Douglas is with him,” he added, referring to one of the other partners.

“Well, then you hardly need me.” How could her father be so dense? She was not an asset where bringing in clients was concerned. Not by a long shot.

“Skye, the man specifically referenced your article. There is no way that Douglas and I are going to conduct this meeting without having you present. I’m not asking you as my daughter, I’m telling you as your boss.”

“Right. Fine. Whatever.”

She watched as his face softened. “Sweetheart, you wrote an excellent article. You are expected at the meeting. And you will do fine.”

She stood, looking down at the floor. “If you say so,” she said, but she didn’t believe it at all.

* * *