The Billionaire's Pretend Girlf - Leslie North Page 0,52
ever seen you during the wedding week. Don’t you think you guys could make it work?”
Daniel was quiet for a moment, contemplating his friend’s words. He wanted to make it work—more than he could even express. But there was still one major roadblock in the way. “She didn’t seem to think so. And honestly, I get why she had her doubts. Personally, I don’t know how it could work. I work all the time. I’m never here. That last night—she didn’t say anything, but I saw the way she looked when I told her what my schedule was going to be for the next month. I think that was when she decided she couldn’t stay.”
“So be there,” Grayson urged. “Work less. Figure it out.”
“Quit your job,” Blake offered.
A bitter laugh ripped out of him—an echo to Jackie’s suggestion. “You really think that’s a valid option?”
“At this point, why not?” Grayson said. “You don’t need the money, and god knows you don’t need the grief. Your job makes you miserable, and it is never going to change. You know that. Are you really going to spend the next thirty years of your life unhappy and alone?”
His words were a knife to the heart. But his best friend was right.
“You’re right. I don’t want to keep doing this shit forever.” Daniel pinched at the bridge of his nose, already dreading what the conversation with his father might be like. “There’s gotta be a happy medium.”
“And I promise you, buddy,” Grayson said, “there is.”
Daniel drifted around his penthouse that night, trapped between two worlds. On the one hand, it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined cutting ties with his father’s business and striking out onto his own. But on the other, the threat of being directionless, unsuccessful, or worse always loomed around the corner.
Around ten that night, his father called while Daniel was splayed out in bed. He answered it on speakerphone, not even having the energy to lift the phone to his ear.
“Hope you didn’t get too comfortable,” his father barked, in lieu of a greeting.
“What now?”
“Cairo deal fell through.” His father tutted. “No fault of yours, of course. But now, you have to go make it right.”
As soon as the words sank in, Daniel sat up in bed. Something hot and wild was coursing through him, stirred to life by his father’s demand. Drop everything; jump when I say jump. This job wasn’t prestigious. It wasn’t even fun. He was an overpaid bitch worker. Kept around to do whatever his father commanded.
It was clear now. Clearer than ever. Paycheck be damned. What good was it having money that he was never around to spend?
“I don’t know if now is a good time,” Daniel started, his fist already clenched.
“What do you mean, it’s not a good time? We have fix this. Now. I’ve already got a flight lined up for you. Leaves tomorrow—you just need to confirm if you want a three p.m. departure or a six p.m.”
Everything in Daniel’s body went taut. His mouth hung open, equal parts stunned and enraged. “I just got home, Dad. I want to sleep in tomorrow. I want a day off.”
“You’ll rest when you’re dead.” The phrase that had haunted Daniel for years.
“But I don’t want to live like this anymore,” Daniel blurted. “This isn’t even living. This is just going wherever you point your finger, whenever you point it.”
“And what’s the problem with that? You love this job. This is our business. This is what we’ve built—together.”
“No, it’s what you’ve built.” Finally, some of the words that had been locked up inside his chest for too long were ready to spill out. “Of course I want to help your business. Of course I want to help you. But how much will be enough? I can’t give you everything at the expense of my own happiness.”
“You’re happy—look at your penthouse. Look at your bank account. Now tell me that isn’t happiness.”
“There’s more to life than that, Dad. You used to know, didn’t you? Or maybe you never did.”
His father scoffed. “Please. I have a family. I have you. I know what happiness is.”
“Then give me the chance to know that for myself. You want grandkids? Not gonna happen when I have to fight tooth and nail for twenty-four hours of freedom.”
“Listen, we’ll look at cutting back your hours—"
“No.” His tongue met parched lips, and for a moment he wondered if the words would pass his lips.
And then they did.
“I’m quitting.”
His father was silent—maybe for the