Page 107 of Impossible Love

“How did you get him to do your dirty work?”

He shrugs. “Blackmailed him.”

“How?”

“I simply said that I’d show the MacLaines how he’d been cooking the books for decades. He was delighted to lend a helping hand after that.”

“How did you know he was dirty?”

My father tips his head back and roars with laughter. “I didn’t, Victoria. It wasn’t until he caved to my pressure that I knew I’d been right.”

“That’s extortion.”

“That’s business, Victoria.”

And just like that, any second thoughts evaporate. I truly don’t want to see my father sent to federal prison. I won’t go out of my way to ensure he’s prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

But I won’t protect him. I won’t hide what I know.

And I will never, ever work for him again.

I pull myself taller and lean in. “What you’ve done is wrong on every possible level. I can barely look at you.”

He begins to laugh again but goes silent when I smack my open hands onto the desktop. “You disgust me.”

“Come now, Victoria.” He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers like some sort of cartoon villain. “Land acquisition isn’t exactly the most squeaky-clean way to make a dollar, but it was good enough to pay for your sailing and piano lessons and your fancy Ivy League education and your condo, am I right?”

I walk backward toward his office door. I don’t want to turn my back to him.

“It’s a little late to get all high and mighty on me.” He stands up and shoves the chair away behind him. It smacks into the credenza.

I take another step back.

“Since you happily accepted all the goodies my money provided, I figured you weren’t morally opposed to what we do around here. If you wanted a clean conscience, you’re in the wrong line of work, sweetheart.”

I’ve reached the door. I fumble behind my back for the doorknob.

He walks around his desk and comes closer. I’m backed right up against the door.

My father stops just inches from me, places his hands on my upper arms, and leans in to kiss my cheek.

I might vomit.

“Now listen up, my brilliant and beautiful daughter. I’ll expect you back here bright and early tomorrow. We have a lot of details to wrap up.”

Yes, we sure do.

I push him away, throw open the door, and run out. As I’m racing down the hallway toward the stairwell, the truth of all this hits me, hard.

My father never intended to make me partner.

My father is a criminal.

And the only value I brought to this company was my appearance.

I stumble down the stairs, my throat burning with the sobs I’m suppressing. I run through the glass-and-chrome lobby.

“Have a nice evening, Miss Backlund,” the security concierge says. “Is everything all right?”

---