Page 4 of Arranged To Be Mine

I stepped off the elevator at five minutes before eight in my perfectly pressed Armani suit. My heels clacked across the tile floors and my head ached. Perhaps I’d done my bun a little too tightly, but I wanted to send the right message: don’t fuck with me.

The receptionist, a young woman whose name I could never remember, looked up with a smile that faltered when she saw my expression. She stammered out a polite greeting that I returned with a nod before continuing past her desk and deeper into the office. I didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries or ask about anyone’s weekend. I had one destination and one purpose.

My father’s corner office.

The door was closed, but I didn’t knock. I never did. I pushed it open and found him exactly where I expected, sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, silver hair perfectly combed, and wearing one of his expensive custom suits.

He looked up when I entered. Didn’t smile. Neither did I. He knew I was pissed at him.

“Darcy.”

“Father.”

I closed the door behind me and crossed to one of the leather chairs facing his desk. I didn’t sit. Sitting implied this would be a long conversation.

“You’ve weakened us,” I said. No preamble. No softening. “As a family. As a company. You’ve made us look petty and vindictive over a handful of llamas.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t defend himself. He just nodded once like a man accepting a verdict he’d already handed down to himself.

When he told me he was suing the Jack Montana, I thought he was joking. All bark and no bite. A silly neighbor argument. And then that stupid attorney actually took the case. There was no talking my father out of it once that blowhard convinced him he could win. Was he planning to slaughter the damn things?

“That whole thing was an exercise in futility and humiliation,” I snapped.

“I know.”

Good. At least he wasn’t delusional about the damage.

I crossed my arms, studying him. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased since yesterday. If anything, it had settled deeper, becoming part of his posture. He was a man who had lost a legal battle against llamas. And he had lost very publicly.

“Jack’s lawyer,” I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “He made you look like a rich bully trying to steal a family’s pets.”

My father’s eyes flashed with something dark. “That son of a bitch made me look like a fool. And he made that fucking twit Jack Montana look like a victim.” He shook his head, disgust evident in every line of his face. “The man has ten llamas. Ten! On a residential property. But somehow I’m the villain.”

“You should have hired him for the lawsuit.”

The words hung between us. My father’s mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Maybe next time.”

I uncrossed my arms and moved to the window, looking out at the City of Angels. All glass and ambition and people scrambling over each other to get ahead. Beautiful people all hoping to become the next big Hollywood star, like Jack Montana.

“Did you really think Jack was running a farm?” I asked without turning around.

He audibly sighed. “Well, he might not be breeding them to sell them, but they’re definitely breeding.”

I turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that the problem? You don’t like witnessing the miracle of llama conception?”

“My fences are high enough that I never see them.” He paused, and then his lips curled back. “But I can hear them.”

“Ew.”

He nodded, eyes glazing over. “It’s relentless, Darcy.”

“Well,” I said, shaking off the thought of llama sex noises, “you’ll have plenty of time to figure out that situation now that you’re stepping back from running the company.”

He nodded with a faint smile. “Yes, I will. The next few months will be transitioning you into the CEO role. Time to step out from the shadows and let the world see who you are.”

My chin raised a fraction. “I’ve been working toward this my whole life.”

“This afternoon’s press conference will be the first step in that direction,” he went on. “You need to be flawless today. It’s nearly the season to get people in the ring-buying mood. The holidays are our biggest sales opportunity. The runway to prepare is shortening.”