His tall, broad form filled up the doorway. “Leave us.” He pointed to her assistants.
One by one her three helpers scurried out of the room, closing the door behind them.
“Daddy.” Ryane watched him enter. His grey hair combed back, his commanding presence, his well tailored suit, everything about him spoke of power and prestige. “I was just thinking that my work should be in a different color folder, then I would know it was mine and not someone else’s. Everyone here uses these common folders.”
“Come here.” He took a seat by the desk and motioned for her to join him.
In less than a heartbeat, she went to the other chair.
“Princess.” He reached forward and took her hand.
Any conversation that started with him calling her princess usually had some sort of present attached to it, and she squirmed in her seat in anticipation. Maybe he bought her a paper mill for her to make her new acceptable file folders. “Yes, Daddy.”
He paused and cleared his throat. “I know this may sound a little harsh, but you have to actually get work done, no matter the color of the folder.”
She stared at him.
“Do you know why I have this business?” He squeezed her hand.
Excellent, she knew the answer to this one. Piece of cake, A+. “Because Great Grandfather started it and it was handed down to Grandfather and now you.”
“Well, yes.” He blinked. “And one day the business will be yours, and you will get married and have a son or a daughter, and we will have built something that will support generations of Windsomes yet to come.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She gave her father a sweet smile. “You make it sound like a fairy tale.”
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her father leaned in.
“Of course, Daddy.”
“No, do you understand?” The vein on his forehead became more pronounced.
She nodded. One day the business would be hers and she would have a baby. Wait, maybe she didn’t understand and she wrinkled her nose.
He let go of her hand. “You need to get married. Married to a man who won’t destroy what your great-grandfather, your grandfather and I spent our lives building. Someone who I will select and approve.”
Her mouth opened, but she had no words. Marriage? To a man her father selected? She was particular, extremely particular. Did he even know what it took her to choose her nail polish color? How could they choose a man?
“Our Seventy-fifth Anniversary Ball is coming up. Think how spectacular it would be to announce your engagement there?” her father continued. “You always come up with something special for these events, now you have a goal.”
“Daddy?” Her father already had this all planned. What did she do now?
“But no matter who you marry, I need for you to understand this business.” He pointed at her. “Do you understand me?”
Without a doubt, she understood him now. “Yes, Daddy.” Her eyes heated with tears.
“Now you need to do great things for the family.” His voice softened and he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried the corners of her eyes. “I want you to make me proud.”
“I suppose I can deal with the regular file folders for now.” With a newfound conviction, she stood and walked over to the stack. She swiped the first folder off the pile and opened it. “Look, this is about the land in Los Padres. Mother used to take me here.”
“There you go. Learn the land. Any man who earns the right to be with my Princess needs to know he is dealing with a brain as well as a beauty.” He got up and headed toward the door. “Our ball will be magnificent this year.”
“Daddy.” Her voice echoed through her office.
“Yes, baby.” Right before he left, he turned to her.
“If I learn the business, I can choose my own husband right?” She clutched the manila folder to her chest.
Rather than answer, her father smiled and left.
Somehow she had to learn the business that was Windsome Holdings or her father would choose some bland businessman. She gathered her items and headed toward the door. She needed to start her lessons right away or end up being sold to the highest bidder the night of their anniversary ball.
Chapter Three
Overgrown trees, patches of dirt and a run-down cottage that at one time was a sweet getaway. Cane in one hand, bucket of cleaning supplies in the other, Nash stood back and stared at his inheritance, his project, what would become his life’s work.
His father may have told him to give everything his best shot, but now, four days after the reading of his father’s will, Nash wondered why everything in life came with strings attached?
Change was fast, unforgiving and inevitable, something he didn’t know if he would ever accept.
With a sigh, he scanned the landscape. Once upon a time, his parents bought the little piece of land where his father built his mother the little cottage. Located near the Pacific Ocean and only two hours away from Los Angeles, the milder temperatures of Los Padres made it the perfect spot to spend the summers.
The first time his life changed in an instant, it was not an explosion or lab results, but rather two police officers showing up at their cottage and relaying the news of his mother’s car accident when he was eleven years old.
They never spent another summer here.
Yes, they drove by, even went inside, but Nash knew exactly why his father left this place in disarray. The man couldn’t come back, looking back hurt, it ached and weighed him down. Instead, he chose to move forward.
Maybe his father couldn’t return, but with the reading of the will, Nash finally had the permission to reclaim what was his—his childhood and his memories. By his father putting conditions on the land, he knew he had to work for everything, take care of it, and never ever take anything for granted.
Time was against him. Then again, when was time ever for anyone? Still, needing to get to work, he finally fished the keys out of his pocket and opened the door.
Sepia light streamed in through the covered windows showing cobwebs and years of dust, which made the entire space appear blurred and washed out. Gone was the happy area where a family of three collapsed in laughter on the floral printed couches. The faded pictures captured times before anyone knew it could end abruptly. The table was piled with magazines and mail as if someone would be arriving soon to deal with everyday life.
In all honesty, he didn’t know if he wanted the cottage. He only knew he couldn’t give it up, couldn’t sell the last remaining image of what he once was.
As he walked toward the kitchen, his steps kicked up dust and out of the corner of his eye he swore he spied a mouse scurrying away. At the moment, everything seemed overwhelming. How was he supposed to clean years of neglect out of this place, then do the repairs? “Start at the beginning,” he repeated what his mother always told him, went to the sink, and turned on the water.
After a pause, the flow began, sputtering rust colored liquid that soon turned clear and continuous. He dumped some cleaning solution in the bucket and stuck it under the faucet. In order to know what he was dealing with, he needed to clean up first.
Once he had a bucket full of suds, he grabbed some rags and wiped off the dinette table. With one clean spot, he put his phone down and turned on some music, reminding himself to bring his speakers tomorrow.
He pulled his hair into a ponytail and got to work.
Starting in the kitchen, he wiped and cleaned, starting with the cabinets and working his way down. The hard rock music he loved throbbed through the kitchen and he found his rhythm. He didn’t know how many times he dumped out the dirty water in the bucket, but it didn’t matter. Every bucket was one step closer to his goal.
He propped his cane against the counter, then got down on his hands and knees to tackle the floor. While his muscles ached from all the exertion, he was determined to have one clean room before he took a break. Again, he submerged his scrub brush into the water and
using both hands scoured away years of accumulated dirt and grime.
A pair of shiny red stilettoes entered his space, coupled with two matching sets of black leather loafers.
At the intrusion, Nash tightened his hold on the brush and looked up. Stacy and her destructive duo stood there.
“Well, well, I never thought I would see the day.” She tapped her foot. “The rock star on his hands and knees.”
“That can’t be the first time he’s been in this position.” Cash elbowed his brother and the twins laughed, more like cackled.
“Now, now boys.” Stacy ran her hand along the top of one of the dinette chairs and rubbed her fingers together. “Nashville, I never did understand your music.”
“I never asked you to.” He forced himself up and turned off the tunes.
“Is it strange watching your colleagues, all those other musicians, go on to have successful careers while you have been reduced to hobbling around in a rundown hovel?” Her tone came out innocent. Cyanide mixed with sugar.
He braced himself on the table. “I could have stayed in the industry if I wanted.” After the accident, more than one offer came his way, but without his band mates it didn’t matter. If he planned his settlement money carefully, he had enough to basically retire. Only now, all that faced him was nothing, nothing except this cottage he had to save with his sweat, not with his savings.
“You know, for someone so good at finances that he could have been an accountant, you are acting a fool.” His stepmother inched closer. “If you gave up this farce of trying to save this monstrosity, we can take the money and I will support you in trying to get back into the industry you love.”
Rather than speak, he picked up his bucket and returned to the sink. It took every bit of his strength not to dump the dirty water on her and her minions.
“Nashville! Help!”
At his stepmother’s screech, he spun around, spilling the water all over his freshly clean kitchen and knocking over his cane. “What is it?”
“A mouse!” She grabbed the twins. “A mouse. It went into the corner.”
“You better be careful, they are known to carry disease.” With a chuckle, he stepped over to get his cane. “Maybe you shouldn’t come around here.”
“Look, you’re walking.” Colton pointed.
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than Nash slipped in the puddle of water, ending up sliding onto the floor and landing on his good knee.
“Here, let me help.” His stepbrother went to run forward.
“Stop!” his stepmother screamed out.
In an instant, Colton froze.
“Nashville has to do all the work himself.” She took hold of her son’s sleeve and pulled him back. “Remember anything he does, no matter how trivial, will only add to the selling price.”
The two of them stared at one another. Nash reached over, retrieved his cane and got himself up.
“Let’s go boys, can’t say we didn’t try talking some sense into him.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re never going to make it, Nashville.” With her words out, she and her offspring left.
He glanced around. Their intrusion tracked in dirt on his one clean spot.
Chapter Four
“Do you believe in arranged marriages?” Feet in the warm pool of bubbling water below her, each hand being tended to by a manicurist, and her hair stylist behind her giving her blow out some final touches, Ryane looked at her reflection in the mirror. Was her father serious? He couldn’t truly want to marry her off, he had to be joking, he only wanted her to get serious.
In unison, both her manicurists shook their heads. Her pedicurist shrugged.
She wrinkled her nose and turned back to the one person who knew her every deep dark secret, not limited to the exact color combination to make her signature blonde hair. “Nick?”
Her hairstylist finished working on the lock of hair and looked up to the ceiling.
He paused and Ryane held her breath waiting for the verdict.
At last, he faced her. “Like a set up?”
“No, like someone else choosing your spouse.” She furrowed her brow.
“Don’t make wrinkles.” Nick ran his fingers over her forehead. “Our aesthetician is out today.”
Before she could ask another question, her phone rang. Belinda jumped up from her chair and ran over. “It’s your father.”
A shudder ran through Ryane.
“It’s Mr. Windsome!” Nick cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled out.
In an instant, the entire salon silenced. Windsome Holdings owned the entire building that housed the salon and the salon as well. She figured after the news her father dropped on her in her office, she needed to start learning the company business right away, and this was one building she felt most comfortable with.
Belinda hit the button and put the phone up to her ear.
Ryane swallowed. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Where are you princess?” her father asked.
“The Barton building. I walked through the lobby and everyone there said hello. I then visited the little boutique they have on the third floor, and now I’m at the salon. You always said it was important to frequent the businesses that rent in our buildings.” Even though he couldn’t see her, she smiled.
Everyone around her nodded.
“I suppose every journey begins with one step.” Her father sighed. “I also have begun a journey of my own.”
“What’s that?” Maybe he put this finding her a husband thing to rest. She couldn’t just be given away like a dog at a pound. This wasn’t medieval times where a woman needed a husband. She had to show him she could run the business on her own. Any man her father found would only want her for her name and her money.
“Tonight I have someone I want you to meet, a Mr. Patrick Allen. He has an MBA from an Ivy League school, his reputation is impeccable, and from what I have been told, he is quite handsome.”
Her stomach dropped. “Isn’t this a little fast Daddy? I told you I can learn the business.”
“Buying a dress and getting your hair and nails done is not learning the business.” Her father barked into the phone. “Meet me at the office at seven sharp. I will be chaperoning this event personally. I’ll call you with any follow up details.”
“But Daddy—”
“I have made up my mind, our Anniversary Ball is just around the corner. Stay by your phone in case I need you.” The line went dead.
All right. The man was serious. She wondered how he was finding these suitors, but truthfully she didn’t want to know. All she knew was she had to get out of there. “Everyone stop!”
The people surrounding her held their hands up like they just finished a reality show competition.
Before tonight, she had to show her father she was more than manicures and dresses. She needed to get away, needed to think, needed to make a plan, be strong, take a stand. “Turn my phone off.” At even voicing the words, she put a hand to her chest. Never had she disobeyed her father.
Belinda gasped. “Your father said to be available.” She put the phone down and backed away.
“Then I will do it.” She snatched up her phone and looked at it. How did one even turn the device off? “Never mind.” With a huff she shoved the device into her purse. “I need to get to work.” Before she second-guessed her next move, she slid her freshly polished feet into her stilettoes and walked out, then rushed to her car parked right in front of the building.
At seeing her, the attendant opened the door, and once inside Ryane glanced at her phone again. Her eyes heated and she knew the tears would start soon. Was her father serious or was he merely trying to scare her?
Again, her phone rang. This time it was her father’s office.
Her first thought was to throw the phone in the back seat, out the window, run it over. Instead, she answered, “This is Ryane.”
“Hello Ryane, it’s Mrs. Peabody. Your father wanted me to tell you that a cocktail
dress is appropriate for this evening.” The woman sounded official, as if she was about ready to tell Ryane she had to sign a contract. “He also wanted me to remind you to be available should any more details arise.”
She started the car and glanced over at the passenger seat with the file folder from the Los Padres property she'd tossed there earlier. “What if I don’t have a cell site?”
Mrs. Peabody paused and let out a little noise. “Well, I suppose you don’t have control over that, but this is the city so you should have no problem.”
The property was far and located in the forest. Trees had to block cell sites. “I need to get to work.” She hit the accelerator and took off.
Her navigation led the way, and for the first time in a long time, she had a goal other than making sure Belinda knew the time of her next hair appointment.
Once she got out of the city, the drive up the coast went surprisingly fast. She glanced at the reception on her phone and the bars seemed to dwindle with each mile.
By the time she got off the freeway and traveled through the canyon leading to her company’s property, she had only one tiny bar, something that would normally upset her, but right now it was nothing if not liberating.
At last, she turned down the one-lane road that ended at a huge barbed wire fence. “Windsome Holdings.” She read the sign. Everything on the other side, her family owned. Acres and acres of prime property with trees, and wildlife and some of the most incredible flowers. Too many years had passed since she had been out here to her mother’s favorite piece of land. Her father told her to learn the business. Well, she needed to start here by reacquainting herself with something close to her heart. She glanced down at her cell phone and nodded. At last, she'd hit her goal. “No service.” Finally, she was unreachable.
She got out of the car, and went to the fence, frowning that it was unlocked. Well, that could be her first piece of business. With a shrug, she stepped inside and winced when her heel sunk into the soft ground below her. A businesswoman couldn’t be concerned with designer shoes and pedicures. There was something to be said for communing with nature, maybe it would give her some clarity.
Fantasy: A Modern Romance Inspired by Cinderella (Seductively Ever After) Page 2
