Single Dad

by River Laurent

  I, on the other hand, cannot say any such thing. I push away from my desk and pace the floor restlessly.

  What hell is wrong with me? Have I completely lost my mind?

  I’m behaving like a class one asshole. But what am I supposed to think, when she goes from fucking me on the edge of my desk to telling me she has lunch plans with somebody else? What’s so important about her plans that she can’t cancel them in favor of lunch with me?

  Which is part of the reason I know she’s going out with a man. Does she look at him the way she does at me? Does she make him feel like he’s the most important person in the world? Does he feel like a king when he’s inside her?

  “Damn it,” I growl, going back to my chair. I sink into it, but shoot up again. I stand and run my hands through my hair. Trying to work is a complete waste of time now. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I should’ve congratulated her for working so hard and let that be the end of it. What is it about her that makes her impossible to resist? Like she’s a drug I can’t get enough of now that I’ve gotten a taste.

  I run my tongue over my lips, picking up the last lingering bit of her there.

  Fuck, how am I supposed to forget her? I don’t want to forget her. I don’t want to learn to live without ever feeling again, the passion she sparks in me. I didn’t know I was capable of anything close to what she does to me. I don’t know that I’ll ever find a woman who can do the same.

  Damn it, indeed. I need to get out of this room. I can’t sit here at this desk, minutes after we used it for other things, knowing she’s going to meet up with someone else. I can still smell her perfume and the scent we created together.

  A short walk around the block should do the trick.

  I barrel my way down the hall and into the elevator before anybody can try to pull me aside with their bullshit. I’m already notorious for my short fuse when interrupted with trivialities, but my reaction if anyone should interrupt me right now, would put any prior blow-ups to shame.

  When I reach the lobby and step off the elevator, I catch sight of something unexpected—and not entirely welcome. There she is, walking through the revolving doors and out to the sidewalk. Nobody would know that I just fucked her on my office desk less than fifteen minutes ago. She looks absolutely calm and put together.

  I hate myself for this, but I need to know. I start to follow her. I need to be sure of who she’s meeting up with. If it’s a man, I want to know who the man is. I want to be able to size him up and understand whom I’m truly up against. And if it is a girlfriend, or her mother or something, I’ll feel like the world’s biggest jackass, but I’ll also be the happiest jackass in the universe.

  She’s on the sidewalk now, looking both ways.

  Is he late? Standing her up, maybe? Does she feel her heart sinking, the way mine sank when she turned me down for lunch? God, if I were to meet me on the street right now, I’d look at myself with nothing but pity. Maybe a little contempt, come to think of it. I’ve never followed a woman before. I’ve never acted like a stalker. Yet, here I am, practically sneaking up behind her.

  A long, sleek, black car pulls up fairly close to where she’s waiting, and the rear door opens. A man climbs out.

  I snarl, my lip curling in disgust. And that’s before I recognize who it is. When I do, the blood that was just moments ago racing like fire through my veins turns to ice.

  Vince Weissman. That bastard.

  How dare he even step foot in front of my building?

  He ushers her into his car and follows her, casting a hasty look behind him before closing the door. The car speeds off to wherever the two of them are going.

  While I stand here, reeling.

  Sam? Having lunch with the CEO of Arcane Technologies? It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she be going out with him? Especially after…

  The truth hits me like a ton of bricks. Jesus Christ!

  Especially after, she just finalized the changes to the prototype. Changes which will ensure it runs properly during the demo and every time after that.

  It can’t be.

  Have I really been so blind?

  Have I made the biggest mistake of my life in trusting her, bringing her into my confidence, allowing her such access to something which has meant almost as much to me as my own child? This drone and the technology behind it have the ability to make or break my company. Everything is riding on this.

  And she just rode off with the man who’s probably my only true enemy.

  I walk back to the bank of elevators in a daze, like a man who’s just been through a bombing or climbed out of car wreck. I don’t know which end is up right now. I feel as if I have completely lost my grip on reality. Sam? Sam is the leak. The rat! I don’t want to believe she could have anything to do with the leak, but it’s the only answer that makes sense.

  I barely feel the elevator rising up to the top floor as I go over the facts of the situation.

  All right. Logic. No more thinking with my dick. Just pure logic.

  No more than a few weeks after Ryland hired her—maybe a month, I’ll have to check the specifics in her file—we found out about the leak when Arcane came forward with their version of my drone. Which means they had enough time to make use of the stolen plans. It isn’t as though I made it easy for anyone to do it—I even made sure to order separate files for each aspect of the design: exterior, power, fuel, structure, aerodynamics. Someone would have to have accessed all of it to make use of any of it.

  She could’ve easily done it. Ryland has access to all of the files, as does Lou, Ralph, and probably Steve. And me. We’re the only five people. But she might have caught sight of Ryland while he inadvertently went through the files at some point. After all, they work very closely together and she definitely could have had access to those designs.

  Now’s not the time for that. I can’t go to him before I have it out with her. So help me God, if she tells him what she discovered today…

  By the time I reach the top floor, the numbing shock has worn off. All that is left is cold fury. That bitch. She thinks she can ruin me with her body? I never suspected her for a moment. It makes me feel sick to think of how easily she played me. Hell, I dropped into her hands like an overripe fruit.

  I shake my head. Incredible. Her working for the enemy behind my back. It’s almost exactly like what I did with Regina…I imagined it all in my head. She’d been so ready and willing to fuck me because she was screwing me. It would be funny if it weren’t so sickening. God, she’s probably sleeping with Weissman too. It turns my stomach to imagine his liver spotted hand on her creamy skin. My gut burns.

  Fuck you, Sam Harper.

  I slam my fist on the wall outside Erica’s office. The pain radiates into my arm.

  Erica comes running out, and stares at me with widened eyes. “What’s the matter?” she gasps.

  “Nothing,” I snarl and walk past her.

  I stopped thinking with my brain from the moment I saw her. Not anymore.

  She has no idea who she’s dealing with. Neither of them do.

  Samantha

  The one good thing I can say about having lunch with my father is that it’s at least just the two of us. No insufferable stepmother or stepsister to make things worse than they already are.

  And he has to pay attention to me, for once. And why not? It’d been his idea for us to get together.

  Only, I’m the one with the attention problems today. I can’t stop thinking about Lincoln long enough to hold onto the thread of our conversation. I keep getting lost.

  Dad doesn’t look surprised. He’s never been much for having faith in my intellect, after all.

  Which is another reason why I wonder what this is all about. What’s he getting at?

  “I imagine things in the office are getting quite interesting, with the tech conference coming up like a freight train.” He chuckles, as though we’re sharing some great joke.

  I can’t help but frown. “Since when do you
care what my work life is like?”

  He manages to mime an expression of disappointment, his mouth curving down at the corners. “That’s mean, and unfeeling. And untrue, to boot. I care very much about your work.”

  “That’s not what you said on Friday night. In fact,” I murmur, leaning closer with my arms crossed on top of the table. “You made it clear that you don’t believe I could ever come up with anything worthwhile.”

  “I was angry. You must try to understand my position in the family. Having to sit between you and my new family. Trying to bring everyone together, trying to create a single family unit when it’s so difficult to get the three of you to see eye-to-eye. I was deeply vexed, especially since you were so rude to your sister.”

  “Stepsister,” I correct.

  “Case in point,” he replies, eyes narrowing. “You refuse to meet me halfway.”

  “So that’s why you were so cruel, then? Because I made your life more difficult?”

  “Of course. I would never be so unsupportive, otherwise.”

  What a laugh. Who does he think he’s trying to fool? Like we only met yesterday. Like I haven’t dealt with his complete lack of support throughout my entire life. “Very kind of you.” I sit back when the server arrives with my salad, which is at least an excuse to keep from talking so much. If we’re eating, there will be less of an opportunity for us to trip over our words. Why wouldn’t we be awkward? We barely know each other, after all.

  “So, as I was saying,” he continues as soon as the waiters leave, “I’m sure your work has been quite stressful lately. But stress helps move the day along, doesn’t it?”

  Why does he care so much? I can’t make heads or tails of the way he keeps going back to work. “Yes. It’s been very busy, but rewarding. I’m sure we’ll come out on top.” I raise an eyebrow, deciding this is the time to play my ace in the hole. To take him by surprise. “I mean, just because Arcane Technologies poached the design Lincoln created…”

  I couldn’t have imagined a better reaction if I tried. His eyes go wide, his pale skin goes red. Like he’s ready to burst. I’m surprised steam isn’t pouring from his ears. “How dare you accuse me of something like that?” he huffs.

  “Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? I heard it through the grapevine earlier this week, after meeting with you for dinner,” I challenge coolly.

  He scowls angrily. “Do they know you are my daughter?”

  “Don’t worry, nobody knows that you’re my father. If they did, I never would’ve gotten the job.”

  He visibly relaxes and even manages to force a smile. “Of course, since you took your mother’s maiden name when you were sixteen.”

  “Of course.” I silently thank my guardian angels or inner voice or whatever it was that told me to take her name. I’d much rather live the life of a normal woman than the life of Vince Weissman’s daughter, no matter how many surface perks came along with that. I’ve always left that privilege to my many stepmothers and their children.

  His color starts to return to normal. “I find it highly offensive that you would accuse me of theft.”

  “What is it, if not theft?” I ask. The fact is, I didn’t know until just now that he’d taken Lincoln’s design. It was a hunch of mine, nothing that I heard from work. I read about Arcane’s test run, the same as everyone else.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that my engineers were working on the same technology months before Guardian began working on it?” he asks, cutting into his steak. “Has it ever occurred to you that your boss might have stolen the idea from me?”

  Unthinkable, but he doesn’t know what I know about Lincoln. He’s a man of character, principle. He wouldn’t take the easy way out like that. If anything, he does everything the hard way. He’s the most stubborn, pig-headed man I’ve ever known, and considering my lineage, that’s saying something. “I suppose that isn’t unthinkable,” I lie around a mouthful of salad. Maybe he won’t hear the obvious contempt in my voice if I keep my mouth full.

  “I only wish we could get over the hump,” he admits, shaking his head ruefully.

  “The hump?”

  “The temperature issues. We’ve been having them. I’m certain you have, too. The core temperature jumps up and fries everything.” He shakes his head again.

  I’m so ashamed of my father I feel as if I might throw up. My father is a thief. If he was merely researching and working on technology which would make it possible for drones to travel faster and longer, why would he just so happen to come up with the same exact issue we’ve been battling all this time? It would mean following the exact same process of design, development, and everything else. What are the odds that his engineers designed an exact replica of the ill-informed design Lincoln created for the Excalibur GTX3?

  Slim to none, that’s what.

  And my father is fishing for answers. I know he is. God, he has so little faith in me. It’s a struggle to keep my expression neutral as I pretend to mull over his statement. “It’s a challenge,” I murmur with a shrug, staying as noncommittal as I can.

  “I suppose that whoever comes up with a solution first will be the one to win over the investors at the demonstration,” he observes, sounding as though he only just came up with this revelation on the fly. He should’ve taken up acting instead of stealing other people’s work. He might have been more successful at it.

  There are only three people who know about the exact problem we were having with the prototype: me, Lincoln and Ryland. I highly doubt that Lincoln would leak the details of his prize project to his biggest competitor, so that leaves only one person.

  I feel sick at the thought. Ryland?

  Is he really capable of something like this? It’s hard to imagine. They are best friends and Ryland plays the nice guy so effortlessly, it is impossible to think it could be a pretense. Besides, I’ve come to admire him so highly since he hired me. We get along so well and he seems to have a real, deep affection for Lincoln.

  Does he, though? If he did, he wouldn’t have betrayed him. I know he did. It could only have been him. Maybe he’s tired of playing second fiddle to his best friend. Maybe he wants a bigger piece of the action. I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking my father what he promised Ryland in exchange for his treachery.

  My heart sinks even more. I realize now that he only hired me because of who I am. He must’ve known somehow, that I’m my father’s daughter. Maybe that was why he’d been so dead set on getting me into the company. So he could use me and my connection to my father to further himself.

  I slide my hands under the table, into my lap and clench them as hard as I can in an attempt to hide my rage. My palms sting when my nails sink into them, nearly drawing blood. The filthy, lying bastard. Cozying up to me in the lab, using me. Lying to Lincoln. Making him trust him, believe in him.

  I’d been so wrong about him, about everything.

  “What’s the matter?” My father peers at me, examining me.

  I’m giving myself away. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Another mouthful of food. I can barely taste it anymore, and I sure as hell don’t want to eat anything. I’m surprised my stomach even accepts what I swallow, I feel so sick and awful. For myself, for Lincoln, for everyone involved except for Ryland and the man seated across from me. I can’t even think about him as my father anymore.

  “Work, eh?” He grins, taking a huge bite of his bloody steak. The juices drip down his chin. The sight is nauseating. He dabs it away with a snowy white napkin.

  I force a faint smile and shrug. “Yes. Would I be your daughter if I didn’t allow work to get in the way of a good meal?” I pretend to share a good-natured chuckle with him and lean forward with an expression of interest as he starts off on a story about his company.

  I stare at him and nod at all the appropriate places. I know what this lunch is about now. It is a fishing trip for him. He wants to know what I know.

  I think of Lincoln. If my father gets the design, he will b
e destroyed. I have to figure out a way to help him.

  Samantha

  My stomach’s in knots, tightening further every moment that passes. It’s amazing I’ve managed to hang onto my lunch. What am I going to do?

  I’ve paced the floor of the lab so many times, it’s amazing that I haven’t worn through the rubberized industrial tiles. I have to figure out a way out of this. I can’t let Ryland and Dad get away with it. No way. They’re the bad guys, and the bad guys shouldn’t win.

  I’m not a child. I know the bad guys win sometimes. Maybe even a lot of the time, since they have the resources and all that jazz. But it won’t be like that this time. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  I should go to Lincoln and tell him about Ryland, but accusing his best friend of corporate espionage is no joking matter. I’d better be damn sure of the truth of my accusations before I take them to him. What happens if I’m wrong? What happens if I drive a wedge between them? Neither would ever forgive me, and it would be impossible to continue working here under those conditions. I need proof of some kind.

  That, combined with the fact that they might find out whose daughter I am, leaves me with very little choice. I can’t go off half-cocked on this. It’s too important that I get it right.

  An idea starts forming in my head. Sketchy, but maybe worthwhile. Is there a way I could mix up my findings somehow? I haven’t saved any of my files yet, haven’t returned them to the shared folders for access by others. “Others” meaning Ryland, Lincoln, or the head of security. Even Lou doesn’t know the specifics of what’s wrong with the original design. I know because Ryland told me so.

  I stop in the middle of the lab. How do I know I can believe anything he’s ever told me?

  I carry on pacing. I have to take a chance, anyway.

  If Ryland doesn’t know the specifics of my ultimate solution, I might be able to sabotage the information he leaks to my father. I left the real plans in Lincoln’s office earlier. I could always go in and change the file, or even pretend I made a mistake…