Fuck…
I shut my eyes as my legs writhed under the sheets, as my fantasies of him fucking me ran wild. My clit throbbed against the pleasurable vibrations—swelling with every passing second, and I came apart under my own hands.
When I came to, I tossed the vibrator into my nightstand. I took a few screenshots of the fake guy’s pictures for good measure, and then I swiped left.
Meredith
Before
A few days later, I stumbled out of a taxi with a carton of fresh coffee in hand. My stilettos softly scraped the city pavement as I struggled to keep pace with all the other associates who were running late to jobs in The One World Trade Center.
By the time I made it inside the building and scanned my badge for Vogue, I was almost thirty seconds late. Any other job, and those seconds wouldn’t start to matter until they became minutes. When you were working as the right hand to the top magazine editor in the country, i.e. the Queen of Everything, being one second late was an eternity.
I rushed to the glittering elevators and hit the button for the 25th floor. In the mirrored glass, I smoothed my hair and used napkins to stave off the drips from the coffee lids.
When the doors finally glided open, I expected to see my boss greeting me with a scowl and a “Finally.” The man and woman standing in front of me were far much worse.
“Dad?” I said, stepping off onto the floor. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a better question,” his companion—my annoying and insensitive Aunt Catherine, said. “Why have you been ignoring his phone calls? Why have you been ignoring mine as well?”
I held back a groan. “I have a lot of work to do today. As you can see, this is my job, so—”
“Your father cleared it with your boss already,” Catherine said. “She says she sent you an email.”
I set the coffee carton down and pulled out my phone. Sure enough, my boss’s email was at the top of my inbox.
* * *
Subject: Today.
Your billionaire father has decided to interrupt my day with some type of important meeting instead of calling you on the phone/respecting my business hours. You’re still responsible for doing all the work that’s due by six o’clock.
Don’t worry about my coffee, and don’t let this ever happen again.
Also, if you plan on returning to being a boring little heiress, let me know by the end of the day.
M. Winters
Vogue
Editor in Chief
* * *
“Whatever it is,” I said, looking between them, “it’ll have to wait. I’m already behind on my work and I don’t have time.”
“This can’t wait, and it’ll only take fifteen minutes.” My father ushered me back onto the elevator, hitting the button for the closest lounge.
I refused to make eye contact with him or my aunt, and I set a timer for fifteen minutes on my phone.
The second the elevator stopped, they motioned for me to follow them to a booth near the windows.
I sat on one side of the table, and they sat side by side on the other. Then we just stared at each other, like usual.
My father and I had never been that close. He was a wealthier version of a deadbeat dad as far as I was concerned and I didn’t want anything to do with him or his money.
My mother had left him once she discovered he had twelve ongoing affairs, and I took her side in the split. He fought her tooth and nail on child support—neglected to see me unless it was my birthday, and he paid the socialite press to steer clear of me once I shunned my status and decided to live a normal life to work for my own money.
It wasn’t until a few years ago, when one lone photographer caught me stepping out of a shitty brownstone, that my father swooped in and demanded that I move into a twenty-million-dollar condo at his expense. He’d been ensuring that we see each other at least one a month since. Always in public.
Of course, that’s what this is…Our monthly public meeting. How could I forget? Allow me to put on a fake smile, just in case he’s hired some press to snap pictures of this.
“Well, I guess I’ll be the first person to break the ice,” My father said after another minute of awkward silence. “I have some important news for you, Meredith. But first, I want us to find a way to get past our differences. I’m well aware that I haven’t been there for you as much as I should’ve and believe me, I regret that. If I could do it all over again, I would’ve begged for your mother to stay. I would’ve worked hard to make her my only one.”
My fake smile started to slip. Even if the first part of his words were halfway true, the latter ones couldn’t be. From the way my aunt gave him the side-eye when he said them, I knew a part of her didn’t believe that either.
“Now, I can’t go back in time and fix things,” he said. “but I think I can start right here and now. I want us to go into a new year stronger than we’ve ever been.”
I said nothing.
“Perhaps we can stop having public meetings and have some genuine ones with just you and me. You can finally introduce me to all your friends.”
“I only have one friend.”
“Gillian, right? Well, you can finally introduce me to her, and I can introduce you to the people in my life as well.” He looked somewhat genuine. “And perhaps, over time, we can have the type of relationship where we don’t have to worry about whether or not the stories we hear about each other are true.”
“There aren’t any stories about me.”
“Ha! Quite the contrary.” Aunt Catherine chimed in. “That’s part of the big reason why we really needed to talk to you today.”
“Just tell me the news so I can get back to work.” I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve bought another million-dollar building, congratulations. If you’re partnering with Catherine’s media firm, congratulations. All bases are covered. Can I go now?”
“Your father is dipping his toe into politics.” She smiled. “He’s highly qualified for tons of positions, but after tons of research, he’s decided to help people who—”
I stopped listening, waited for her to finish babbling about whatever unnecessary position he was taking away from someone who would probably do a better job at it.
I wasn’t wasting a ‘Congratulations’ on this.
“We also need you to lead your father’s annual women’s conference, so that people will see that you’re spending more time together,” she said. “People like to see that quality in high profile men like him.”
I knew there was a catch… “You’re already a multi-million-dollar philanthropist, Dad.” I said, looking at him. “Shouldn’t that be enough at this point in your life?”
“I’ll be able to answer that after I win.” He laughed as my aunt kissed his cheek, and I felt bile rising up my throat.
“Anyway…” Catherine set a folder on the table. “Back to you. I had your father’s team do some digging, and I’m not sure I like what they’ve found.” She lowered her voice. “We’ll need to discuss all of the men that you slept with in the years before your mother—Well, you know. They tell me that you were quite promiscuous…”