Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“But, Mama, shouldn’t he woo me before we’re married?”
She softly laughed. No woman would ever dare to open her mouth and let out a loud laugh. “Maybe. But you must prepare yourself that you won’t have time for romance. If a marriage must happen, then it will, and it is your job to be a good wife and represent this family.”
“What if I don’t like him?”
“I didn’t care for your father either. But we learned to love each other. Aren’t we happy?”
I thought about the way they danced in the kitchen, and Papa always shared his food with her.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“You will be happy too. Even if the way you get there isn’t how you planned it.”
I wondered if Mama was alive if she’d have shown up to my graduation. I wondered if she’d have stroked my father’s tie and told him to give me a chance. She’d always reminded me of what my future held, but she also pushed me to achieve more.
“I can still do that, but maybe I can do more too,” I argued gently. “I have time, and I can help with the business until the time comes for me to marry.”
My father dug his hands into his eyes, a clear sign his stress was increasing as his patience decreased. Not that he ever lost his temper with Mama and me, but I knew it happened, and after Mama passed, he rubbed at his eyes more than he didn’t.
“Verana,” he half sighed-half warned. “I’ve hired a new CFO.”
The seemingly random announcement had alarms whispering in the back of my head. But my father rarely spoke business, so I grasped on, absorbing every word. “Already? Roman passed away less than a month ago. What about the board?”
“The board approved.”
“Who?”
“Camden Conti.”
“Mr. Conti’s son?”
“Yes, you’ve met him before. You were young though.”
Mr. Conti had been my father’s closest friend for years. I vaguely remembered his son with white-blonde hair and hunter green eyes. I remembered him not smiling much, and when he did, it never met his eyes, but he seemed polite. We all did in this world.
“Where did he work before? Does he have much experience?” I bombarded him with questions, trying to squeeze my way through the crack he opened.
“Of course, he does,” he scoffed.
“Sorry, I’d just never heard your interest in him before. Where did he work before here?”
He sighed, a hint to his patience slipping even more. “Somewhere abroad. He left, and we took the opportunity to snatch him up.”
“Why did he leave?”
“Not the right fit for them. But he’s right for Mariano Shipping.” His eyes narrowed for a moment before lowering to the wine he swirled in his glass. “He will be a good fit for you.”
The alarms grew louder, and the opening he’d given to talk about the company grew—only it didn’t reveal an in-depth conversation where I proved my value as an employee. No, something else waited for me.
“Me?”
“Yes, we went golfing last month and discussed everything.”
“Everything being…”
“Your marriage together,” he said, but it lacked his usual confidence.
The dark wood paneling closed in on me. “My what?”
“You’ve known you’d marry whoever suited this family since you were little. That is the job you have. Attending college was never meant to change that.”
I knew that. I just thought I had more time. More life to experience before it was given away to someone I didn’t want to have it.
“Papa…”
“It’s done.” His hand slashed through the air, and I jerked back. My father rode the line of patience with me, but he never crossed it, and the sharp movement shocked me. When he watched me swallow and pull back, he softened, regret pulling his shoulders down. He looked away, the lines around his pinched mouth hinting at more frowns than smiles. Before Mama passed, it had been all smiles. Now he shook his head, the silver in his dark hair standing out more than ever before under the lights.
I’d obviously visited home over my four years away, but I’d never taken note of how much he’d aged. When did the man who hung my moon and stars get so tired? When did the man who snuck me an extra cookie lose control of his emotions?
He swiped his hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the short-tempered man who snapped, but all that was left was exhaustion. “We’re training him now, and once he settles in, we’ll focus more on your wedding.”
“He’s almost forty,” I said softly. I held tight to the emotions threatening to snap free, too nervous when he obviously sat so close to the edge.
“I was older than your mother,” he said without any of the concern rioting through me.
“By five years.” Panic slipped past my resolve to remain calm, and my voice rose. Camden was almost twice my age, and my father didn’t seem to care at all. “This is completely different. You and Mama had—”