Page 26 of Bride on the Dotted Line (Blackstone Center #1)

She was always right.

Victor shifts in his seat, glaring daggers at me. So much time has passed since Mom was alive. Her death was the only thing Victor Harwood couldn’t protect his family from. And maybe, if I’d never wanted anything different, I would bend to his will today without question.

Maybe, if I’d never spent time with Mom in the kitchen, I’d want what my father wants for me. If I’d never learned to cook. If I’d never met Sienna.

My heart contracts.

I miss you, Mom.

She dreamed of seeing me run the company she started. But now, for the first time, looking at my father in the study he built, behind the desk he bought, in the giant mansion where he lives alone, I realize something: Harwood Restaurant Group isn’t my mother’s true legacy.

I am.

“Dad,” I start, but my voice comes out a rasp. I cough and try again. “This is more than a publicity stunt.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please?—”

“No. Listen to me, Dad. I’m in love with Sienna. I’m not going to leave our marriage just because you say so.”

Victor scoffs, grimacing like I’m a child who just declared a belief in dragons. “Love,” he sneers. “Do you know what a billion dollars buys, Son? It buys all the love you want. No need to go looking for it in the alleyways of the world. This is about the Harwood name.”

“Dad.”

“I was hoping Lionel’s appearance at the charity gala would remind you of that.”

“I …” But his words settle over me, stopping my retort in its tracks. “Lionel?”

The rageful look on Victor’s face slips, just for a second, and I see guilt there. Then he does the same thing he did when I asked him about the private investigator: he shrugs and looks through the window.

Harwood Restaurant Group isn’t built on sentiment, Nicholas, he had said to me at the gala. It’s built on power. Leverage. Control. Making the hard decisions, even without permission. That’s how we stay on top.

I struggle to keep my mouth from falling open as my third realization in a matter of minutes hits me. “You got Lionel an invite to the gala. You told him to approach me.”

Victor’s gaze travels to the stack of papers on his desk, then flicks away.

“You …” There’s a ripping feeling in my chest. “You hired him. To the board of the company.” I don’t know how I know it; I just do.

The stack of papers on my father’s desk is tall enough to cast a shadow.

I wonder which of them is Lionel’s employment contract.

“And Roderick, too. That’s why they left their jobs.

They have positions at Harwood Restaurant Group. ”

Victor tents his fingers, letting go of a tired exhale. “Yes, yes. Co-CFOs, a seven-year contract. You won’t be able to fire them without going to court.”

I’m lost for words. “How could you?”

“I was hoping you’d decide to hire them yourself, but you’re too stubborn,” Victor says, ignoring me.

“You’ll understand why I did this once you see that Lionel and Roderick are the best people for the job.

” He examines his cuff links, picking a piece of lint from his sleeve.

“What is a grudge in the face of a company like ours?”

I’m afraid I might push his desk over. Breathe, Nick. Control yourself. My feet carry me to the window, where I stare at buildings on the horizon and dig my nails into my palms.

I’ve been faced with my father’s uncaring personality a thousand times. This is different.

I glance over my shoulder. He’s not even looking at me. He’s resumed writing whatever it was he was working on when I came in, head bent over his desk.

At first, the betrayal is a knife in my back, a thousand cuts, sand in my veins. But when I try to find the words to counter it, the feelings to justify it, all I come up with is emptiness.

I have no anger, no despair left.

Just exhaustion.

My endless campaign for Victor’s approval, the constant bending to his demands. Always putting the company above everything else has hollowed me out. For years, I’ve let him dictate my life, trying to live up to his impossible standards, but the last month and a half has shifted the bedrock in me.

Sienna has shown me what it means to make a choice.

I square my shoulders, pulling myself to my full height, and turn around. Victor looks up at me from behind his desk.

“Are you ready to work, Son?”

Mustering everything I have, I shake my head. “Call me a fool, Dad, or ungrateful. I won’t give up the one person who makes me feel like I’m worth something.”

He glowers at me, but there’s surprise in the set of his mouth. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by cold fury.

“Then you leave me no choice.” He pulls the stack of papers toward him, dipping his quill into its inkwell.

“If you don’t end the marriage, you’re out.

Out of the company, out of the family business.

You’ll never see the inside of Harwood Restaurant Group again.

” Poising his quill over a page covered in tiny text—probably the Transfer Agreement we’ve been working on—he says, “Do you understand?”

I’ve never felt like this before. My heart is on the outside, exposed to the burning, quivering, thrilling world for the first time. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating.

I’ve been chasing something that was never meant to be mine.

I say in a steady, even voice, “Good. I’m done.”

Victor’s eyes widen. For all his threats, he never thought I’d say something like that. He jumps to his feet, slapping his palms on the surface of his desk.

“Don’t you dare …” His inkwell overturns, ink bleeding across the Transfer Agreement he hurriedly pushes aside. “Nicholas, if you …”

I stand for a moment, watching my father struggle to set his desk to rights again, ink staining his fingers. Then I smile and turn on my heel.

“ Where the fuck do you think you’re going? ”

Digging in my pocket, I pull out my phone and tap the first name that comes up in my messages. I don’t look back.

“I’m going to get my girl,” I say.