believe those are her reasons for saying no. I’m not used to that word, and I don’t fucking like it. Not when it comes to women, and not when it comes to business.
“Looks like Larry Knowles is signing on. I need to go make sure his video connection is good,” Hassan says after reading a message on his computer screen.
The kid’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old who agreed to work for me when I recruited him if I gave him stock options in my companies and mentored him. He keeps up with everything in my Chicago and New York offices without missing a beat. These meetings with lots of people appearing by video are a pain in the ass to set up, but he makes it look easy.
While he’s in the conference room, I grab a piece of notepaper with the Durand Enterprises name and logo on top and write out a note.
“All set,” Hassan says when he walks back into his office. “Maureen called in when I was in there, and Shane texted that he’s on the elevator.”
I pass him the folded note I wrote. “I need this delivered to Daphne Barrington at Safe Harbor today with flowers. Not red roses. Send something that’s nice, but not over the top. And I want you to deliver it yourself.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a text and I check it.
Giselle: Thanks for getting me Starbucks this morning and letting me drive my car today.
I write back.
Me: You’re welcome. Have a good day, love you.
Even though my visit to Safe Harbor yesterday was caught by one photographer, most of the reporters and photographers have backed off now. I decided to return to the security procedures I’ve always used for Giselle, which is two guards following her in separate cars anytime she’s driving her car or riding in someone else’s car. I can’t risk someone taking her for ransom, or worse.
“Olivier?” Hassan asks as I’m about to leave his office.
I turn to look at him, and he says, “How about sunflowers?”
I smile. “That’s perfect. Thanks, Hassan.”
I head into my meeting about the status of the real estate company I’m acquiring, hoping I can keep my mind on the many details of the deal. It’s hard to keep my thoughts from wandering to Daphne, though. Now that I’ve seen her office and I know a little more about her, I’m even more intrigued. I just have to show her there’s more to me than a lot of money.
Later that evening, tumbler of bourbon in hand to celebrate finalizing the acquisition at today’s meeting, I’m standing outside my daughter’s closed bedroom door, trying to persuade her to open it. Or at least respond.
“Giselle…I know you’re in there, your car is in the garage. And you’re not in the shower, because I can’t hear it running.”
Nothing. I’ve been home for half an hour and I haven’t seen a sign of her.
“Should I text?” I quip. “Or go get you a venti latte mocha grande espresso?”
I’m shit at ordering from Starbucks. The baristas look at me like I’m about a hundred years old when I order a large black coffee. Giselle has to remind me several times what she wants, or better yet, order it herself.
“It’s a tall iced caramel macchiato, Dad,” she says, her tone grumpy and nasally.
So she’s been crying. Fuck.
“You want one? We can take the McLaren. I’ll let you drive.”
“I just want to be alone,” she says.
“Why don’t we get some dinner and then you can be alone?”
After a pause she says, “I’m not hungry.”
“Giselle.”
“Go away, Dad.”
“You sound like you’ve been crying. I can’t go away when you’re upset.”
“Yes, you can.”
I lean a hand on the doorframe, taking a sip of my drink.
“I could, but I don’t want to. Will you just open the door?”
Silence. I walk over to a table in the hallway and set my glass down, then unbutton my shirt sleeves and roll them up, needing to get out some nervous energy. My instinct is to yell and bang on the door until my daughter opens it, but the therapist I saw when I took full custody of her told me not to do that.
Talk it out, she said. So I lean both hands on the doorframe and take a deep breath, trying again.
“Giselle, your old dad’s been through some shit over the years, you know. Whatever is going on, I just want to listen and help.”
I hear laugher mixed in with tears.