Sugar Daddies (22 page)

If only it was that simple.

But it
was
simple. He’d picked too well, too fucking well. And even though I was proud and stubborn and full of bitterness, I was still that little girl watching Harrison Gables on YouTube and marvelling, and dreaming, and imagining a day when I could be like him.

“What do I have to do?” I said, and my voice was quiet. “What does this internship programme thing actually mean?”

“Sales training,” he said. “The best of the best. Some field experience. Some product experience. A little stint in marketing. You can specialise for the final section. It can mean whatever you want it to mean.” His eyes met mine and they held firm. “Please,” he said. “Katie, I know things haven’t been smooth for you, and I know you don’t think the best of me, but please, just think about it.”

I’d done sales around college, insurance telemarketing to earn money for Samson’s livery. I’d been alright. More than alright. My bonuses had bought him a new saddle, a fine job from a proper saddler.

“And there’s no underhanded tactics, no moving goalposts? Just six months of a stupid programme and I’m on that plane?”

He nodded. “That’s exactly how it is. Unless you want to stay.”

Never. Not in a million years.

“Salary?” I said. “What’s the salary?”

“Twenty grand to start. Bonuses on top.”

Twenty grand could see me right, with my other little earner on the side. Twenty grand was nearly three times my rate at the restaurant.

“Working hours?”

“Nine to five, Monday through Friday. It’s all regular stuff, Katie.”

The thought of being away from Samson pained me. It fucking hurt. And I knew then he had me. I was already considering it, already feeling it.

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

“And who is going to give me this
best of the best
training? Let me guess…” I sneered. “You?”

He laughed aloud. “Christ, no. Do you really think I’m that arrogant?”

I didn’t answer.

“Please, Katie, give me some credit. It’s a long time since I founded this business, and a long time since I was at the coalface of business development. Sales has changed, marketing has changed. The programme is cutting edge, led by the best of the best. The best of them all, I promise.”

“Great,” I mocked. “I can’t wait to meet this
best of the best
. It’s going to be so much fun.”

“So, your answer is yes?”

I stared at him. “I don’t know you’ve left me with much choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he said, and blue eyes met mine. Blue eyes like mine.

Harrison Gables, I’m doing this for Harrison Gables. And Samson. And Jack, too.

“When do I have to start your poxy programme?” I sighed. “When do I have to sign up?”

“I’ll introduce you right now,” he said, and my stomach lurched. Torn jeans suddenly seemed such a stupid idea. I wanted to bail, say I’d come back tomorrow, at least wear something that looked like less of a teenage middle finger to an arrogant sack of shit father, but I didn’t have time. He was already on the phone, instructing someone in.

“Please,” he said. “My daughter, yes. She’s ready to meet the team, I thought you could… Thanks, right.” My stupid father smiled like the cat who’d got the cream, grinning away until there was a rap at the door. He stood, smoothed down his tie, and I wished I was in any other clothes than these. I folded my arms across the stupid slogan on my chest, and looked at the table top. “Katie,” he said as the door opened. “I’m very pleased to introduce you to the head of the Favcom internship programme. The best of the very best. Your mentor for the next six months.”

I think it was the scent. Or the size of the shadow. Or maybe that prickly sixth sense that gives you goosebumps.

My eyes moved up slowly, and my heart was racing. Thumping.

My heart knew.

Bay leaf green eyes were staring, wide, a steel jaw gritted hard. Killer angles. Tailored suit.

Those bay leaf eyes stared right at me, and I stared right back.

And I could have died.

“Carl,” my father said. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Katie.” My father smiled at me, oblivious, entirely oblivious. “Katie,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Carl Brooks. The best of the very best.”

Oh fuck.

I’m always direct, even in the most
awkward
of circumstances. And these were awkward circumstances. Really fucking awkward.

“We’re already acquainted,” I said, and David’s eyes grew wide in perfect unison with Katie’s.

There it was. The familiarity I’d experienced. Not one I’d have ever pinpointed, not without seeing them side by side in the flesh, but it was the eyes. The brows. The cheekbones, too, maybe.

She jumped in before I had a chance to expand, and I watched in morbid fascination as she flustered and blustered her way through an explanation.

A shitty cop-out explanation.

“I, um, I know Rick,” she told David. “He’s a designer. We’re friends. We know each other, met online, and I met Carl, through Rick, because Rick is, um, Rick is Carl’s…”

Don’t say fucking friend.
I despise it when people get all fucking wimpy and avoid calling a spade a spade.

David gave a little gesture, shook his head. “Yes, yes, Katie, Carl’s boyfriend. I know Rick well.”

Katie was a far deeper shade of pink than I’d ever seen her, even when I’d complimented her on taking two dicks in her tight little pussy.

I looked her up and down, and my professionalism was offended by the girl before me. If I hadn’t known better I’d have dismissed her as a waste of time, a sulky child, just like her sister. Her fucking
sister.
A self-entitled little ratbag who expects an easy ride.

Bite me, baby.
Her t-shirt was faded and shrunken, and I could see at least an inch of her belly, the curve of her hips heading into the top of some thoroughly tattered denim.

She looked away from me, folded her arms, and I registered her embarrassment.

She’d a whole case full of clothes back home at ours, I’d lugged them back and forth to the car enough to know, and every single item I’d seen her in would have been better suited to the office than the mess she’d chosen to rock up here in.

David was smiling. “Well, what a small world.” His eyes met mine. “You didn’t mention you’d met my daughter, Carl. This is a surprise.”

Wasn’t it just.

He laughed a little. “Didn’t you realise? Did you two not… talk? Surely you talked?”

David wanted answers, I could tell, but direct has its limits. I couldn’t tell the guy she’d called him a blank space on her birth certificate. Couldn’t tell him that she claimed she
had
no father,
knew
no father, that she wanted nothing to do with her fucking father.

And yet here she was.

Large as life in Daddy’s office.

My office.

And lucky number twenty on my internship programme.

“I guess I didn’t put two and two
together,” I said, and my eyes were burning hers.

“I’m surprised
you
didn’t realise, Katie,” he said. “I’ve been working with Carl for twenty years. This is extraordinary.” He handed me a batch of application paperwork, blank. “Katie hasn’t officially applied yet, Carl. She’ll need talking through the procedure.”

“You’re starting late,” I said to her. “You’ll have some work to do. A lot of work to do.”

She closed her eyes, embarrassment practically steaming from her. And then she shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

Her nonchalance made me bristle.

David’s phone started buzzing on the table top. “No rest for the wicked,” he said. He checked out the caller ID before sighing and indicating the door. He slapped my back on the way past.

“I’ll leave her in your hands, Carl,” he said. “Take good care of my little girl now.”

He could count on that.

“Sit,” I said, and Katie sat.

I took David’s seat and stared at her, and she stared at me.

“This is fucking awkward,” she said.

“No fucking shit,” I said. I reclined in my seat and weighed her up, piecing together the situation. “So, you’re the love child?”

“Something like that.” Her expression was sour. “I’m the love child and you’re the sugar daddy. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“You said he was a blank space on your birth certificate.”

Her eyes were like fire. “He
is
a blank space on my birth certificate! He’s an idiot, a prick, I don’t know how you can even stand to work with him.”

I couldn’t comprehend her venom. “David’s the best man I know, Rick excluded. The best man I’ve ever known.”

“Poor you, then,” she snapped. “Your standards must be pretty low.”

“No,” I said. “They’re not.”

I pushed the application form in her direction, but she didn’t take it. “I’m here because he’s blackmailing me,” she said. “Holding Harrison Gables to ransom unless I do six months on this intern thing.” I looked at her blankly until she continued. “Harrison Gables is a horse whisperer, from the States. The best.”

“I see.” I pulled the application form back. “In that case this
intern thing
isn’t for you. I’ve already got one joyrider on my programme, I don’t need another.”

She pursed her pretty lips. “Verity?”

“Yes, Verity.” I slid the paperwork back in the file. “I’ll tell your father your application was unsuccessful.”

“You’ll what?!”

“I’m serious,” I said. “I turned down over fifty worthwhile candidates for this year’s scheme. Fifty people who wanted it, fifty people who’d have worked hard for it, fifty people who were devastated when they didn’t make it. We have room for twenty on this programme, and right now I have eighteen who want to be here and one who doesn’t. I doubt Verity will last another week as it stands, and I’m not taking on another timewaster.”

“You’ll fire Verity?!” she laughed a bitter laugh. “That’ll be quite a turn up for the books. Princess Verity usually has the whole world fawning at her pretty feet.”

“Not here she doesn’t,” I said. “Not with me.”

“She won’t let you fire her,” she scoffed. “Not with Harrison Gables at stake.”

“She won’t get a choice, believe me.”

Blue eyes looked at me and softened. “I don’t like telling people about my father. I wasn’t trying to lie, or hide anything, I just don’t…”

“Surely you did due diligence?” I said. “When you were scoping out our profile, Rick and I, surely you… checked? Surely you recognised where I worked? Surely you knew? You should have known, Katie, rather than rolling up at some stranger’s house without the most basic idea of who they were.”

“I
did
check you out. I checked both of you out. I knew you worked for some swanky agency in Cheltenham, some tech thing. I didn’t know you worked with the sperm donor. His office is in Stroud, not Cheltenham. Your company name isn’t even the same as his.”