Chapter Twenty-Nine
Being stuck in this house is making me stir-crazy. It’s been a week. I’m constantly followed around by the goons Jake hired. Okay, they’re not goons. They’re extremely professional and polite. I don’t know how he got my dad to agreeto having them in this house, but my father doesn’t seem to care too much.
My father’s men don’t like the newcomers, though. And if the looks of distrust and disgust from Hunter and Isaac are anything to go by, I’d say the feeling is mutual.
“Why are you walking around aimlessly?” my father asks.
“I’m bored,” I tell him.
“Bored?” He smiles. “Want to play a hand?”
“You feel like losing?” I quirk a brow.
“No one else I’d rather lose to more than you, Jazzy. Come on.” Dad leads me into his office.
Settling into the plush black leather sofa, I fold my legs up underneath me and wait for him to get the cards and chips.
“How are you finding the new job?” he asks as he shuffles the cards.
“Good. It would be better if I could actually be there, you know.”
“I know.” He starts dealing. “Got any big plans for the place?”
I squint at him. “Who told you I had plans?”
“A little birdy,” Dad says.
“CJ? He’s always had such a big mouth.”
“The question is why haven’tyoutold me?” he asks, and I get the impression he isn’t just talking about work. But he can’t possibly know about the other secret I’ve been keeping… I know Tío E and Elias would never betray my trust.
“Because I’m not ready yet. I have a proposal to present to you and I want it to be perfect.” I pick up my hand, keeping my expression neutral, the way he taught me to do while playing poker.
“If you’ve made it, it will be perfect, princess.”
“I don’t want to skid by in this job on nepotism, Daddy. I want to earn my place.”
“Jazzy, you’re my daughter, my oldest child. There is going to be nepotism.” He shrugs.
“It’s important for me to earn it,” I repeat.
“You have. Your career in New York, the companies you worked for already… Your resume is fucking impressive, Jazzy, way more impressive than mine. If anyone is qualified to run that place, it’s you. Not me.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it, Jazzy. You are so smart, determined. Just like your mom was.” My father doesn’t mention my birth mother much, but when he does, he only has nice things to say about her. Even though she kept my existence secret from him for six years, which I know he hates.
“She was smart. I remember when she used to take me to the library, and we’d sit and read books for hours. She said that reading was the way to build knowledge.” The memory has faded over time but it’s still there.
Dad smiles. “She was always smarter than I was.”
“You are smart. Look what you’ve achieved, and you work hard for everything you’ve got. Everything you give us. And now you like Jake, so obviously you’re getting smarter as you get older.”
“Likeis a strong word,” Dad says.
“Tolerate?” I suggest.
“Better.”