I gripped the phone so tightly, I had this crazy idea I was strong enough to break it. To crumble it to rubble like some superhero, but I didn’t want to lose the connection with her, so I lightened up my hold.
“When?”
“Last.” Breath. “Week.” Breath. “I had to be on a machine before they could get it under control. They just gave me.” Breath. “My phone back. Saw texts. Don’t be mad.”
I stared into the dark room. A single on campus, because I couldn’t afford to move off campus like most upper classmen did. This whole time, I’d been cursing her for being an immature baby for not returning my texts, and she’d been in a hospital on a fucking breathing machine.
“You need to come home.”
“He’s sending me.” Breath. “To Florida. A resort called Amelia Island. I’m to recover there over the break.”
“Then what?”
“Then he said, we’ll see.”
No. We’ll see wasn’t good enough. What the fuck did he mean by we? He didn’t have asthma. He wasn’t suffering in the constant frigid air. I’d accused her of making shit up about him because it seemed too crazy to believe. That the man I’d known for most of my teenage life was a monster.
A rich, stuck-up prick with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement. A man who’d disliked me simply because of my parents and upbringing. A father who thought I was beneath him and his daughter. That played.
Her using a burner phone to convince him she was talking to people back home less? That was different.
A man who’d learned his daughter had been in a hospital for a week and would consider sending her back to the place that was making her sick…? That wasn’t a joke. Or a cry for attention.
“Marc?”
“I’m here. I’m…” Processing. Conflicted between sitting in this bed, and getting up and selling my car to be able to afford a ticket to Switzerland. Or telling the dean tomorrow that I was dropping out. Letting Ash make her own choices without any impact to me.
“I’m going to fix this, Ash.”
“You can’t. He has reasons. I think. You’ll come to Florida?”
“Is that a good idea?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know if it’s safe.”
“You think he’d object to me seeing you, just to make sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t want him to think.” Breath. “You would even bother to make the trip.” Breath. “Tired.”
“Rest. Breathe. In, and out. You know how to do that. Easy in, and out.”
“Easy in, and out.”
I hung up and lay back down in the bed. I wasn’t going to sleep for the rest of the night. The sound of her carefully measured breaths filled my ears. This was my fault. She was there because she thought she was protecting me.
Why me? Why threaten me? Arthur Landen didn’t have a clue what happened between me and his daughter. Hell, he’d had no problem leaving us alone on the estate for weeks at a time while he was off in Manhattan. Because he’d probably convinced himself I was sufficiently cowed and awed by him to heed almost every warning he’d ever given me.
What if I could just remind him of that?
What if I could assure him I wasn’t ever going to have a relationship with his daughter? Wasn’t ever going to corrupt her, or tarnish her, or whatever he thought I might do to her because of my own personal history?
What if we just had a conversation? Man to man.
Landen Enterprises, LLC
Downtown Manhattan
Marc
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” George said. I glanced over at him and saw his worried expression. I’d told George what I’d wanted to do. Told him why. He’d offered to talk to Landen on my behalf. Secure the thirty-minute meeting. He’d driven me into the city since he was expected to have the car available for Landen today.
“I’m going to be honest.”
“Your honesty might be misconstrued. He’s very protective of Ashleigh.”
“Bullshit. He sent her to fucking Switzerland where she’s had nothing but health problems. That’s not being protective. That’s being authoritarian without thought of consequences. I have two choices. Drop out of school, or confront him.”
“Or let Ashleigh try to solve this on her own,” George pointed out.
That surprised me. “You would put her health at risk?” I asked sharply. “You? You adore her.”
“I do. But I also know her to be a smart, capable, young woman. She’s been managing her father for years. You do this now, it could have an impact on your future you can’t possibly predict. I worry about that, son.”
I bristled at the word son. He didn’t use it often. Only when he was being particularly dramatic when it came to my decision making.
“I’m not going to make any threats, or do anything crazy,” I promised. “I’m going to be reasonable.”
“And if you get angry?”
It wasn’t an outlandish question. George knew my temper(ament) almost as much as Ash did. “I won’t Hulk-out. I promise.”
He pulled up in front of a glass and steel building in the heart of the financial district. I didn’t linger, instead I popped out of the car, buttoned my suit jacket, and strode inside confidently.
In one year, I would be applying for jobs in every one of these buildings. Looking to amass my own fortune, build my own estate, and free myself from anyone who threatened to control my life in any way.
Landen’s offices were on the thirty-first floor. I took the high-speed elevator up and made my way to his executive assistant’s office. The guy took my name and confirmed my appointment.
As I sat there, I watched the young man work. Taking phone calls, scheduling, ordering various different reports from different departments. This would mostly likely be my first job out of college. A stepping stone, while I learned from the investor who hired me.
A lot of grunt work. A lot of messy work. But it wouldn’t be my job for long. I considered this man’s ambitions, and wondered how fast and how high he wanted to climb.
His phone beeped and he picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Landen.” He put down the phone and looked at me. “He’ll see you now. But he’s running a little late…”
“I’ll keep it short,” I told the guy. I didn’t want to interfere with anyone’s schedule. I just needed the man to see reason.
I walked into his office and watched as he stood up from his seat and held his hand out for me to shake. I took it in a firm grip and noticed that his eyes were slightly bloodshot. His coloring seemed flushed, too.
George had told me about the old man’s increased drinking, and it was starting to show on his carefully manicured image. I wondered if his clients had started to notice. I sure as hell wouldn’t put any investment money in the hands of a drunk.
“Mr. Landen.”
“Marc, what brings you to Landen Enterprises?”
He pointed to the seat across from his desk, and I sat. He did as well. “Any coffee, tea?”
“No, thank you, sir. I’ll cut right to the chase. I got word from George, Ashleigh had been in the hospital. A serious asthma attack.”